Refusing the Rich: The Young Master's Escaping Bride - Chapter 23 The Look of That Man

Arcane energy weaves the world, and the ninja world is no exception.

The Book of Medivh from Azeroth contains knowledge of two worlds.

For mages, knowledge = power.

Enemy country? war? Tailed beast? Otsutsuki?

In front of the Master, tremble!

Time, for me to control; space, let me roam.

Parallel time and space, self rise, regret unfortunately, self end.

In the name of the new guardian—

Master, open a cross-border portal!

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The boutique “Pirates of Light Swordsman” has been finished, character guarantee~

- Description from novelbuddy

Scheming female assassin transmigrated to become the weak Eldest Miss, her story is wonderful and stunning, attracting peach flowers to blossom open. Cold calculating emperor? Genius bad crown prince? Insidious happy-go-lucky prince? Gentle physician? Ice-cold mystery male? Who is her true love? Haha, but she only eats, definitely will not take responsibility! Beautiful men be careful!

- Description from Novelupdates

What would you do if you found out you're really a dragon?What if you found out magic is real?What if the guy who just saved your life is actually really cute, has a big sword and runs a small business granting wishes?!Misha Long knew moving countries would be a big deal, but he had no idea how big until things start going wrong. Very wrong.But he isn't alone.By his side is the enigmatic Bran D'Arcy, magic master and sword slinger. For Misha, it's an exciting new world he's stumbled into.But for all the wonder and beauty in it there's a danger lurking in the magic, an old evil that won't just threaten him and those he loves, but the entire world.Oh, and he now has a tail.

“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.