The Comeback of the Cannon-Fodder Supporting Actress - Chapter 23: The Era of Face-Slapping Rebirth of a Woman

All the firsts I want to remember were with you.From the summer when I was eighteen and knew nothing to the summer when I turned thirty-one and learned so much.Even the seasons without you felt like you were deeply ingrained.“We’re just friends, so there’s nothing special between us.”You pushed me away with a poker face, but because we were friends,I endured those countless days,and it seems you still don’t know it.So, it looks like I’m going to repeat the same futile effort.“Did I ask if you needed a man? If you do, I’ll be your man.”You need to get to know the thirty-one-year-old me.If you look at me with those eyes you didn’t see before.“You’ve become a real troublemaker.”Now that you’re here, it’s just the beginning of .

Lin Xiao was an orphan who strived to get stronger while living with his sickly younger brother in an unnamed small village.

What are you going to do when you pass through another world?

Yalin(MC): Perhaps, many of those seniors who passed through another world would like to use violence to solve their problems, but I like to control the fate of a country with economics and races with faith, I use benefits to instigate others so that I profit, and even making them take risk for me without them even knowing. In each country the highest is the king and behind the king is a string that is attach to my hand, for I am their puppeteer.

Yalin(MC): Certainly the credit does not only belong to me, I must give my thanks to the great knights and their leader Zero(Code Geass). The supreme master of blood, the moon princess(Tsukihime), the black and white princess, and also my ‘good friend’ called by his title the ‘God’s left eye’, president of the neutral autonomous city. Finally I must give thanks to my loyal and competent subordinates!

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.