Bloodline Reckoning: The System Made Me Filthy Rich - Chapter 33: Torture

“My lady, you don't have to use your divine body on him! It's not necessary! Allow me instead!” Morena pleaded.“No, I must... After all, it's my story. I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want.” She laughed, her voice dripping with manipulation.I was just a high school student who loved writing.My entire life revolved around novels. Thousands of stories consumed, countless worlds explored, all building toward one dream: creating my own masterpiece.Then a freak accident killed me, my best friend, and some random boy we'd just met.As I took my last breath, only one regret burned through me: I never got to finish my novel.Everything went dark.When I opened my eyes, I stood before a god. She smiled at me with cruel amusement and offered a deal: complete my story from the inside, as a character that never existed in the original plot.Before I could answer, reality shattered around me.[Ding! You have successfully transmigrated into “The Life of an Evergreen”]'...What?'I wasn't the hero. I wasn't even a villain. I was nobody... a characterI never wrote.But here's the thing about being the author: I know every secret, every twist, every character's deepest fear. I wrote this world with my own hands... which means I know exactly how to break it.“You think you can rewrite your own story?”“I already did once. What's stopping me from doing it again?”If gods want to play games with my creation, then I'll show them what happens when the author steps into his own world. I'll manipulate every character, exploit every plotline, and twist this story until it bends to my will.Because when you know how everything ends, survival becomes child's play.The real question is: how far will I go to finish what I started?===Discord: https://discord.gg/38HTkz2Yw3

To exist in a certain place, at a certain time—it's always either by chance, or by choice.But sometimes,There is a third force.One that doesn't ask.One that doesn't explain.It simply places you—wherever it wants.Arséne had always been dragged into places he never chose.Situations he never asked for.Realities he never belonged to.And when, at last, he decided to act on his own terms—To take the initiative,To move first,To choose…He simply died.

“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.

After the divorce, Gao Jun discovered that the persona of the wealthy single lady had collapsed.“Madam, please stop confessing your feelings to me,” he said.“You know I'm not someone who takes things lightly.”