Rebirth Of The General's Granddaughter - Chapter 179 - Evildoer Goes to the Mountains, Pledging Their Love on the Lantern Festival [3]

Tian Mi, a single mother with two children, has finally gotten her life under control… that is, until a handsome VIP at the hotel where she works claims to know her and is somehow in possession of her wedding ring from her former marriage. If that wasn’t enough, her ex-husband, now a successful entrepreneur, has also shown up, and is looking to rekindle their relationship. Who is this stranger? Why has her husband returned? Will she choose new love over an old flame?

When Zen was just five, his kingdom fell in flames. His people vanished into dust. His parents - his world - were taken by death. Left behind with nothing but silence, the young prince was forgotten by history. But his story… was only just beginning.He walks alone at first. Weak. Broken. Powerless.But the fire in his heart never died.He seeks strength enough to tear through the heavens, enough to break the chains of fate itself. Not just to see the faces of his lost parents once more… but to take revenge on the ones who destroyed everything.But can strength truly reach beyond death?… or will it only turn him into something worse?This is not just the story of a fallen prince.This is the legend of The One Who Walks Beyond the End.

France, 1934. The scars of the Great War still shape the military minds of the Third Republic. Trapped in the past, its generals place their faith in fortifications and defensive warfare, while across the Rhine, a new German army rises, faster, deadlier, and ready to crush everything in its path.Into this world awakens Captain Étienne Moreau, a man who should not exist. He remembers another life, one where France falls in 1940, where German tanks storm through the Ardennes, bypassing the Maginot Line. One where his country surrenders in a matter of weeks.But here, now, he has a chance to stop it.As an officer in the 2nd Armored Division, he fights for reforms: pushing for mobile tank warfare, warning of Hitler’s growing ambitions, and challenging the high command’s obsession with World War I tactics. Yet, his ideas are dismissed as radical, madness from a young officer who “thinks he knows war.”Surrounded by political intrigue, military infighting, and rising fascism, Moreau must carefully navigate the system, winning allies among future leaders like Charles de Gaulle, while avoiding suspicion from the French High Command. His knowledge is a double-edged sword, if he is too aggressive, he risks being labeled a traitor. If he does nothing, he will live to see France burn.As war draws closer, Moreau faces a terrifying question: Can history be changed? Or is France doomed to fall, no matter what he does?Time is running out. The Blitzkrieg is coming. And he may be France’s last chance to fight back.

“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.