Reborn Spoiled Ming Wangfei - Chapter 106 - Once Again Going On Stage

A gas explosion caused Bai Xue to be reborn on Bai Ruxue’s body.

Fortunately, her department store followed her. Rice noodles, grains and oils, vegetable and fruit snacks, clothing and department stores are all available.

She took the supplies in her hands and exchanged money for a house, a car, a job, and gold!

Threatening, with the supermarket in hand, I have the world.

Zhang Mou came to the door: How to repay the grace of saving life?

If the handsome man is like this, the grace of saving his life should be promised with his body!

- Description from novelbuddy

One night, a premeditated entanglement.She seduced him and claimed him as her own.After a year of entanglement, she still could not compete with his destined one.After the divorce, Sheng Youxia offered a high price for a child.Requirements: supermodel legs, a strong waist, 180cm height, 180mm, 180 minutes, rejecting those who are only appealing in appearance but useless otherwise.Fu Shilü saw the advertisement posted by his ex-wife and ultimately couldn't hold back, sending her a message.“All your requirements are based on me, right? Just say you can't let go of me.”Sheng Youxia responds with a cold laugh: “Cured? Send me the test results.”

Finding himself in a world same but also different from his own as this world now has Pokémon in it.With a rich family and a system he will climb to the top and catch'em all.His grandfather is a steel-type Elite among the 18 top Elites in Drakoria. His father is the Leader of a national gym.Julian: All roads lead to Riches, so it is better to be born RichFamily background + resources + system = JulianJulian: It's not that you are too weak, but that I am too strong.Disclaimer:- I do not own the right to the cover image.If you are the rightful owner and would like it removed.I will take it down promptly.

“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.