On Our Wedding Night, I Discovered the Crown Prince's Hidden Illness - Chapter 188: Commandery Princess Returns

Gao Yang was a military enthusiast, an ordinary one, who loved knives, guns, and adventure.In an accident, Gao Yang found himself in Africa, where he unfortunately experienced a plane crash. Although he miraculously survived, his life henceforth was one where he could only scrape by under the muzzle of guns, for he had become a mercenary.What heights could a military enthusiast reach in the international Mercenary World?Please, wait and see.

The servant looked at the grieving princess. “Your Highness, the Regent Prince sent your scholar fiancé to the Western Butcher’s daughter!” 

The princess gritted her teeth, speaking to her servant that it matters not as she has other suitors in line. Many days later, much to her dismay, the servant ran in a hurry. “Your Highness, the Regent Prince expressed his intention of becoming your suitor! All other men in line were sold to Gou Lan Red District!”

The princess was distressed. She said to her servant it matters not. She’ll soon be married to Prince Fuma. Then the uneventful came. The servant once more ran to her, almost tripping in the process. “Your Highness, Prince Fuma was imprisoned at home! Meanwhile, there’s a red sedan chair waiting at your residence for your marriage! It was led by the Regent Prince!

The princess was stunned. For a day such as this to come, it seemed impossible. This nothing but a sad story of a female boss crossing back in time to hold the thick thighs of the big boss. But while raising him, she was eaten in the process.

- Description from Novelupdates

What if your worst enemies suddenly became your most devoted allies—because you turned them into irresistible, enchanting femboys?Meet Cecil: a cunning, ruthless mastermind hiding an extraordinary power beneath his calm exterior. With a single stroke of his feathered pen, he transforms those who dare to cross him into beautiful, loyal members of his ever-growing harem. But this isn’t some silly game—it's a calculated campaign to build a nation unlike any other.In a world of secrets, magic, and brutal politics, Cecil must navigate a treacherous landscape filled with dangerous foes and hidden agendas. His targets? Only those who insult, threaten, or betray him. His allies? A charming, fiercely loyal band of femboys who live by his side in a shadowy sanctuary.If you think power is all about strength and magic, think again. For Cecil, true power lies in control, seduction, and a pen that changes fate.Welcome to the Velvet Court—where loyalty is beautiful, and revenge is intoxicating.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.