Richest Man: Divine-Grade Reconstruct System - Chapter 172 You Did It On Purpose (3rd Update)

Ling Chen was a peerless master hiding within the city hustle as a nobody-courier, until he stumbled into the world of the beautiful CEO, Nanrong Wanqing, the 'untouchable flower' of Donghai City, due to one of his work assignments. From then on, watch as his life is thrown into an exciting disarray!

Wei Ruo, a highly skilled doctor, was time traveled as a female supporting role in a novel. She was left neglected in the countryside for ten years and returned back when she was thirteen years old.

Seeing that she only knew how to grow flowers, grass and vegetables all day long, everyone thought that she was a peasant woman.

As the female supporting role, Wei Ruo did not want to fall in love with the male lead, nor did she want to compete with the female lead. All she was thinking about was to make money, make money, and make money!

When the fake daughter was still worried that Wei Ruo’s return would affect her status, Wei Ruo had quietly saved up a private fund.

When the fake daughter was still trying to attract the male lead’s attention, Wei Ruo had already made a big fortune.

If you want money, you have money, if you want food, you have food, The shop was opened one after another.

Later, her brother became the first minister, her father became the general, and the one sitting on the emperor’s chair was her husband.

- Description from Novelupdates

Jiang Yang and Qin Xu both dislike each other. Every time they meet they become filled with hatred. Both have feelings for the school idol but they didn’t expect that the other party was actually a cross-dressing man. In an instant, their world views were shattered.

“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.