Master Xiao, Your Wife Has Reborn - Chapter 122 - Richer?

At some point in the 21st century, the Christian God stopped listening to the prayers of humanity. Monsters with colossal strength and endurance began to emerge and humanity entered its darkest period.

In her past life, Michelle was an ordinary doctor who worked in a small hospital, but once in a while, a strange envelope would arrive at her apartment and she would take up a weaon and turn into a deadly assassin known for her stealthiness. But being a top assassin, Michelle had many enemies and ended up dying, only to wake up in the body of Michelle Grace, a pampered young miss in a world similar to ancient dynasties, except that cultivation existed there. Not everyone could cultivate, but Michelle Grace could.The original Michelle Grace was engaged to the Crown Prince, and he killed her before Michelle took over the body, so after making a deal with Michelle Grace's father, the Archduke, Michelle took on the name Grace and started a revenge plan on the Crown Prince, his lover, his mistress and his father, the Emperor.A bit troublesome: Michelle gained the attention of two men who together were the Dark Lord. They were horrifyingly powerful, so Michelle had to be careful around them. Luckily, they didn't have in their plans harming her, as they were intrigued by her constitution. Michelle possessed a rare blood, which they could use.

When Bai Mufan opened his eyes, he found that the whole world had changed!

The concept of men and women in this world is reversed, women are respected, it is normal for women to go out to earn money to support their families, and men even aim to become a househusband in life!

The most frightening thing is that Bai Mufan also found that there is an extra boyboy system in his brain, clamoring all day long to make him the world’s number one boyboy!

Bai Mufan was angry.

“Even if I, Bai Mufan, am ugly and can’t find a wife for the rest of my life, I definitely won’t be a badass!”

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.