Gospel of Blood - Chapter 126: Awakening

Reborn in a parallel world, he became a rookie fishing channel host.On the first day of fishing, he caught a corpse, unexpectedly solving a major case.On the second day, he caught a broken radio, miraculously receiving a broadcast from the future.On the third day, he caught a book of intrinsic skills, casually practicing it and becoming a supreme master.On the fourth day, he caught a string of ancient coins, uncovering a thousand-year-old sunken ship.......On the nth day, he caught a nuclear submarine.Fang Hao was baffled.Why couldn't he catch a fish but instead caught all sorts of strange things???The online audience was also stunned. When would he actually catch a real fish?

On their wedding night, she gnashed her teeth, yelling, “Your Highness, that’s shameless!”

Set off by the flickering light of red candles, he curved the corner of his mouth into a wicked grin, “Actually, I can be more shameless…”

…

When they met for the first time, he was the young prince who lived in his day of brilliance, while she was the pampered princess of the adjacent state.

When they met again, he became the crippled underdog suffering from frustration, while she became the lackluster hostage stranded in an alien land.

In his mid-life, he was defeated in the fight and had his legs broken; his wife passed away and he didn’t have anything left except his father’s detestation… After constant blows took the edge off his spirit, all he wanted was nothing but serenity.

In her teen-age, her state perished and her home lost; she lapsed into an awkward situation after being abandoned and having her marriage annulled… As endless hardships isolated her from happiness, everything she wished for was no more than peace.

…

“Lu Zhishan, when I first met you, I didn’t think I’d marry you…too old,” after years passed by, one day, she lay on his laps mumbling, with a kind of hazy beauty on her boozy face, “and lame.”

“Mu Nanzhi, you have the wrong memory. At our first meeting, I’m neither old nor limp.”

“…When was that?”

“When people were celebrating your first birthday,” that man assumed all gentleness and joy crept on his eyes and brows, “On that day, you were ‘drawing lots’ in the rear hall. I also sneaked there to have a look. But, out of my expectation, you directly grabbed my true-love knot.”

…

How vivid the red love pea is embedded in the exquisitely carved dice,

Just as my feelings for you deep in my bones.

- Description from Novelupdates

‘He’s so cute I want to kick him flying through the air.’

Bai Yao runs a seafood restaurant in a seaside town. One day, he saw a small sentient sea otter being bullied.

Out of pity, he helped out the little sea otter.

The sea otter acts quite defensively, baring his teeth, all while still covered in wounds yet to heal.

His way of saying thanks, is gifting Bai Yao an oyster in his pocket that’s been sitting there for who-knows-how-long.

Bai Yao ends up bringing the wounded and exhausted little sea otter back to his restaurant, giving him food and a shower.

Though the sea otter is still quite scaredy and defensive. He wouldn’t let Bai Yao rub his cute little face, or even ruffle his fur.

That’s not all the quirks of the little sea otter either. Bai Yao realised he’s a dummy that didn’t even know how to anthropomorphise.

Later that day, Bai Yao wakes up in the middle of the night, when there is something soft he’s holding in his hand.

He looks, and sees the little sea otter has put his paw in his hand. The sleepyhead is also snuggling on him, his head brushing against his chest.

Not feeling drowsy enough to sleep anymore, Bai Yao just props his head on his arm, watching until the otter finally wakes up.

When he finally does, he looks around, and sees that it’s Bai Yao; he squeaks, and then nestles his face against the fingers of Bai Yao.

Amused, Bai Yao asks, “oh? I thought you were a tough little guy that didn’t like petting?”

- 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.