Legend of Fu Yao - Chapter 220 - Untitled

I seem to have reincarnated in the world of an r-rated romance fantasy novel. And not just as an ordinary character, but as the witch who loses her life to the crazy male lead!

Luckily there is a long 200 years until the main characters are born and grow into their roles.

Now that my life is not in imminent danger, shall we leisurely think of ways to avoid death?

However, I had not taken notice of a very important detail about the time I’d be spending ‘safe from imminent danger’. 200 years was by no means a short waiting period and by the time the younger version of the male lead appeared in front of me , I had completely forgotten the original novel’s plot!

Oh, whatever, now that it’s come to this, the only way to survive is to raise the male lead into a sane and stable adult! The first step to avoiding death by the hands of the tyrant male lead is changing this extremely frightened child’s life.

“It must be very inconvenient for you to have me suddenly show up on your doorstep, I’m sorry. You can tell me to go away, I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense. Do I look like someone who could be inconvenienced by a little boy like you? Also, what do you mean by you’ll be fine even if told to go away? It’s not like you have anywhere to go back to, kid.”

The little boy burst into tears.

‘Oh, this is so not it.’ Was what the witch thought to herself as the little boy sobbed

The reborn Xu Renshan originally bought 50 times the lottery ticket with his memory, but he passed away with a huge sum of 200 million yuan.

Originally, he could successfully interview with the advantage of rebirth and become a civil servant, but he changed his mind when he met a rich woman on a blind date.

The civil servants who work from nine to five can’t compare to soft rice.

…

Many years later, the tens of billions of rich women, heh, his assets are increasing by tens of billions of income every year, and the unit is US dollars.

- Description from novelbuddy

The Old Gods are gone. Lost and Forgotten, their honor shattered and their kingdoms broken by treachery.The Peace of the Myriad Heavens has been severed. And from the ashes of war and chaos, the Twin Towers of Babel have been created as a beacon of hope.Can Altair, a child born of the Old Gods whose name has long since been forgotten, survive, or will he be cast into the Nine Hells?***“So...” Arsene continued, enjoying his child's flush expression. “I've got a few things to teach you. What I'm about to give you is some peak wisdom. Think of it as my Ten Commandments: One, never trust a bitch with red hair. Trust me on this. Two, the pull-out game is not a real thing. She will get pregnant. Three—”“F-Father…”“ —Never get yourself more than one wife. It sounds fun. It is fun. But it's truly a nightmare. You better be writing this stuff down. This is some grade-A wisdom right here. Four.“...Please stop talking…” The Prince pleaded.“Shhhhh. Just let this happen. Four…Bro's before hoes isn't a thing. The hoes come first. Remember, Booty is more important than Wa— ”“STOP!!!!!”

“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.