I Become a Landlady in the Game World - Chapter 371 - 213: Buying the Goblin

I scoffed. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”Cade squeezed his face into displeasure as he stepped closer to me, “What doesn’t matter anymore?” His blue eyes turned a shade darker than they should.“You are our mate, Isn’t that what you wanted all along?” Kael spoke and I snapped my gaze at him.It was too late! Nothing could ever make me want them. I loathed them so much that it hurt. Perhaps that’s what happens to a broken soul who was given a second chance.“Iris…” Zane called. He was the calmest of the three, his eyes were soft, trying to reach out to me and I stepped back avoiding him like a plague.They were monsters. All three of them.I find it hard to breathe but this was my decision to make. Gone was the fragile old me.“I, Iris Orlene…” I stared at the triplets dead in the eyes, inhaling sharply. Not a single drop of emotion was left in me.“Reject you all three Alphas; Cade, Kael, and Zane Verek to be my mate.”***Iris Oren, once the cherished daughter of Alpha Oren Roland and Luna Selene of the Blackbane Pack, I faced a dire accusation of treason for allegedly poisoning the former beta who’s now the current alpha, Alpha Darius Verek, the current ruthless leader who betrayed and murdered my parents when I was just a kid, accused me of their murder and took over the alpha throne. Now, I am a despised maid in my own pack. I am publicly condemned in the council room, surrounded by hostile pack members, including Alpha Darius, his sons who are triplets, Cade, Kael, and Zane, my childhood sweet hearts, and my former best friend Liora. Despite my weak protests of innocence, no one believed me, and Darius sentenced me to death by being buried alive but the council pleaded as he shifted the punishment to 200 strokes of whips with sulfur powder but unknown to me, it was changed to a silver powder, very dangerous to werewolves.During this brutal public punishment, I couldn’t make it, I died.Waking up again, I realised I'd been brought back to my past life, on my 18th birthday, days before my death.In my past life, I am a weak and wolfless omega who can’t even defend herself and has loved the triplets so dearly that I could do anything for them without considering my dignity. Now I am reborn, I am determined to change my fate.

Teenage earth dweller Lu Qingfeng died in a car accident and traversed to a world of cultivation.He acquired the Login Ring of “Primordial”, a massive immersive online game developed by the Earth Federation two thousand years later, and travelled across primordial worlds.

Through an array of coincidences, Alex comes to learn that making pills is one of the best ways to earn money in the game, 'Eternal Cultivation.'

“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.