Star Gate - Chapter 131: The Commonalities of Martial Masters (III)

Crossing to a garbage star in the interstellar age, Ji Yu is so poor that she is about to plow the soil and eat it, but… the soil is poisonous and can’t be eaten… There is no way, she can only lower her body to pick up the garbage, sell it and sell it. of……

For example, no one wants such beautiful grass seeds. Pick up a bead and sell it online.

But as soon as I posted it on the Internet, someone made a negative comment: “All the grass seeds and fruits are sold. Are you crazy to think about money?”

A few days later, the man slammed the wall in regret: “Kneel and beg you to sell me one grass seed and fruit, only one! One is fine.”

Ji You said coldly: “Not for sale!”

For another example, these shattered stones on the street are so shiny that nobody wants them. Pick them up, polish them into bracelets, and sell them on the Internet.

The crowd made nasty words: “Broken rocks are all sold, haven’t you seen the money?”

A few days later, everyone wept bitterly and said, “I have no eyes, I am clumsy, such a beautiful and beautiful stone, please beg me for one.”

Ji You said, “It’s gone.”

- Description from novelbuddy

“Missus, time to fulfil your duties!” Mu Yuchen demanded as he pulled Xi Xiaye closer with his arms intimately wrapped around her waist.

It was a meticulously planned feast for the powerful. Her fiancé had knelt down on one knee and proposed to her sister instead. Robbed of her right to her inheritance, she was prepared for the Xi family to throw her to the wolves.
As she slipped away from her family that had turned their backs on her, she found him — Mu Yuchen, the low-profile and reserved noble that ruled City Z and led Glory World Corporation.

“Mu Yuchen, let’s get married!” He looked up at her, then suddenly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Let’s go. Any later and the civil affairs bureau will be closed.”

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.

The first time they met, she said to him, “Mr. Song, I see that you’re I’ll-fates, and I’m afraid that you will die soon. The people around him accused her of being a fraud, and threatened to beat her...