The Reincarnated Goddess is Fierce - Chapter 311: Buy Another Set

One day, I was given the mysterious power of Hwanmong.

Opening his eyes after transmigrating, Chen Yi found himself kneeling in the Punishment Hall of the Marquis’s Manor. The reason? As a live-in son-in-law, he had actually dared to run away on his wedding day.Consequently, not only was he thoroughly despised by the entire manor, but he was also indefinitely grounded as punishment.However, Chen Yi was more than happy to enjoy the peace and quiet. Having exhausted himself with endless toil in his previous life, simply being a wealthy, idle son-in-law in this one sounded pretty damn good.From that day forward, relying on a Daily Intelligence System to passively harvest fortuitous encounters, he dedicated himself to mastering the zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, medicine, and even the Dao of fishing. He lived a supremely leisurely and blissful life within the manor.……Many years later, when the surrounding barbarian nations launched a massive invasion, Chen Yi—who had already reached the absolute pinnacle of perfection in the arts, medicine, and fishing—helplessly sighed. Stepping directly into the realm of a Land Immortal, he shocked the entire world with a single battle.Xiao Jinghong: “Husband, didn’t we agree you were just going to be an idle son-in-law? Why are you a Land Immortal?!”

Ma Ran has a special ability [Roleplay]. He could create a persona and once there are enough people believing it, he could obtain the role's ability.A while ago, he convinced a large part of humans that he can restart the timeline at the moment Earth was destroyed.

“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.