MTL - Legend of Concubine’s Daughter Minglan - Chapter 321 Demon (2)

As soon as he opened his eyes, the white scorpion was worn on the body of a notorious dude.

I heard that her father is an upstart in the North City, and his fame spreads far and wide from nothing;

Her illegitimate eldest brother is a genius, and went to Jiangjing University as the champion of the market;

The illegitimate younger sister is the versatile school belle of the international class next door, gentle and courteous;

The fiancé is a wealthy son of finance, a school god, and he didn’t take her seriously…

And she, just an ordinary person with a low IQ, was kicked out of this family at the very beginning.

Bai Po: All right, then she will study hard and try to be an ordinary person~

All (smiling faces of fans): …you are the best? ?

The eldest lady who was assigned to Xiangcheng had no background, no knowledge and skills, everyone could step on her… Can’t step on it? ? ? ?

[The only beauty in the world is lazy and wanton, whoever provokes her will be killed, whoever criticizes the heroine madly vs the noble and glamorous male protagonist who exudes a majestic aura and IQ crushes all the male protagonists present]

ps: The male and female protagonists are very Su

Conception: love to learn, be a good person.

- Description from novelbuddy

The Great Film Emperor, Ji Mian thinks that Young Master Xiao Jiashu is an arrogant, poison-mouthed, spoilt, rich snob who exploits his strong background to ruin people’s lives on a whim. But when he somehow obtains the ability to read minds, Ji Mian comes to realise that Xiao Jiashu is probably the most adorable person in the world.

This is a story about the rise of the acting-fanatic, Xiao Jiashu, as he silences his haters and wows the world with his magnificence.

- Description from Novelupdates

Reborn as a sword, he lived for hundreds of years, and then he occupied the body of a 15-year-old prince.

“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.