The Legendary Son-in-law of the Emperor - Chapter 821 - 818: Purpose

Mu Sheng had researched quantum mechanics and engineered cross-sea bridges in her past life. However, she became a small-time celebrity plagued with a bad image overnight. This sad foolish woman was made to marry a sick man to counteract his bad luck. Even when her kidney and marrow were taken from her, she was glad to help. Memories of how her body’s original owner sacrificed everything for a scum flooded Mu Sheng’s mind, making her eyes roll.

The news exploded in the entertainment industry. Mu Sheng performed a 1440 degree somersault when she skied on an entertainment program and left everyone awestruck. The anti-fans felt she must have edited the image or hired a stunt double. Two weeks later, the International Ski Federation invited her to join them as a lifetime member. In time, government research, hacking, calligraphy and brush painting, and music associations all reached out for her to join their ranks one after another.

So what? She ended up marrying a useless man who was on the brink of death and would become a widow in a matter of time. Things did not quite play out as everyone expected. The useless Mr. Li did not die and ended up healthier than ever. He even shockingly turned out to be a mysterious big shot in the corporate world. Mu Sheng did not wind up a widow and Mr Li. loved her to bits.

Mu Sheng glanced at a man. “Now that you have been healed, can you sign the divorce agreement?”

Li Hanchen smiled. “There’s one more thing you haven’t healed.”

Mu Sheng frowned. “Are you still unwell?”

Li Hanchen said, “I love you to death and there’s no cure for it.”

He had found a ray of hope amid the darkness and her name was Mu Sheng.

Zhao Yu transmigrated to the body of a down-and-out loose cultivator in the Canglong Mountain range of the Cultivation World, and discovered that he had awakened the ability to devour the Dao fruits, which allowed him to enhance his cultivation talent by consuming heavenly materials and earthly treasures, as well as elixirs. Ultimately, through the power of devouring the path’s fruit and his own efforts, he became a colossus in the world of immortals.

Not for the Alliance, nor for the Horde!

For the justice in our hearts, to seek an explanation for all the innocents, and to fight for those civilians who are ignored by the nobles, Vanessa VanCleef has set a small goal. I want to push Stormwind City first!

Ps: There is an old book with 5 million words, and the quality is guaranteed. Please rest assured to collect it.

Ps: Group numbers 639, 265, 715

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.