Unruly Phoenix Xiaoyao - Chapter 307: His Majesty was coerced

“Release faster! Why aren’t today’s chapters out yet?”“… Senior Sister, it’s only six in the morning.”“Then what about yesterday? There was only one chapter!”“… Romance slice-of-life stories rely heavily on the details. Inspiration is needed when writing.”“Then, where does your inspiration come from? You’re clearly single.”“… My imagination.”“In that case, why don’t you date someone? You can get some material too.”“… I need to write. I don’t have time.”“How about I help you?”“… Help me write?”“Of course not! I mean dating!”“… Senior Sister, stop joking around.”***This is a slice-of-life university love story between a struggling web novel author and a beautiful illustrator, in which they mutually suffer social death.Single female lead, no melodrama, no angst.

As the number one pill alchemist of the immortal world, Mu Chen had always believed that it was because he had single-mindedly focused on concocting pills that led to him to neglect disciplining his disciple. Which in turn, caused his disciple to be led astray by the seduction of devil cultivation, leading to the three realms to fall to disaster. After his rebirth, Mu Chen resolved to properly teach his disciple, give him the very best resources, earnestly love him, carry him close to his heart, teach him by way of example, and didn’t let him grow corrupt.

Sure enough, his disciple became more and more “intimate”. Every day his disciple even crawled into his bed, rubbing against his chest and clinging to his thigh. It was just that his expression isn’t exactly quite right……

- Description from novelupdates

He died on the wedding of the girl he had a crush on, after a long and successful career. After convincing Yama to send him back to the world, he decides to fix the areas in which his life went wrong. Realizing the lack of love and romance in his past life, he sets out to conquer the hearts of various women.

“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.