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... ughter with an unreadable expression. He had expected many things from her tonight, resistance or half-truths or even defiance, but...not this.

"A merchant company?" His voice was steady, but Qingyan could see the tension in his posture.

"Yes!" she confirmed, her tone unwavering. "Nothing to worry, father. I'm running this under someone's identity, no one's going to find out, well not yet."

For a moment, silence between them longed. Then, Hua Zhen exhaled, shaking his hea ...

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Who, in the ancient mythology, held an artifact and killed the first emperor of the human race?

Who, at the beginning of ancient times, closed the gate of the God Realm, Jedi Tiantong?

Who set a lifespan limit of only one hundred and thirty years for the people, and even the Great Emperor was not spared?

Who, turned into a black hand that covers the sky for eternity, shrouded the world?

Yang Shou on Earth: “Yes, yes, I did it all, I just want to live.”

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The Girl Who Bore the Flame RingFinal Chapter: My Happiness
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How long I’d been here, I couldn’t quite recall. From this sorry situation, I as always raised my eyes to the sky; a sky in which the great, massive sun was clad in levity. Sunlight poured gently upon all. What a blessing it would have been for the world if only the skies could remain clear. For tomorrow too, and for all days to come, I was to continue to pray for calm. To endure for those who cried, with desperation I remained in prayer.

And then, one freezing, forlorn, soulless, stagnant, drizzly day we died. Or so I thought…

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“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.

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My name is Ye Yong, and I’m panicking right now. I was just reading a novel and accidentally got hit by my phone and I transmigrated and became a villain.

Right now, every day, my thoughts are occupied with how to avoid the male lead and how to make the female protagonists fall for me.

I think and plan my actions carefully, and I make every move according to plan. However, the development seems to have gotten off track. The most obvious changes are the female protagonists, who became different than how they were in the novel. They-

Crap, I gotta run, talk to you later.