Became a Failed Experimental Subject - Chapter 77: The Hero’s Synonym

“Then why don’t I marry you!” Yu Dong suddenly proposed.

“You…” Xia Feng thought he had misheard.

“You see, you’re looking for someone to marry to ease your mother’s heart, I also want to get married, we’re right in front of the doors to the Civil Affairs Bureau, and with all our papers too!” Yu Dong exclaimed while holding up her red household book.

“And the most important thing is that we just broke up with our exes. This is fate, ah!”

Right up until they left the Civil Affairs Bureau again, holding a newly registered red book, Xia Feng remained dazed still wondering, how did he end up getting married?

Did he just pick up a wife at the doors to the Civil Affairs Bureau?

What Xia Feng doesn’t know is that Yu Dong traveled back in time from 10 years in the future.

Now, having a second chance in life and able to secure a good husband, Yu Dong will live her life at full throttle and without regrets.

- Description from Novelupdates

Mo Chu was reborn. She opened her eyes to find herself in a world where a thousand years had passed. The docile animals and plants became very aggressive, and elemental abilities that existed only in stories and legends now appeared before her eyes! Fortunately, upon waking up, Mo Chu gained a nice-guy brother who had a sister complex. Unfortunately, she had a one-in-a-million sensitive constitution, so she couldn’t consume 99% of the available food. However, there would always be a solution. If she couldn’t eat the food of this era, couldn’t she come up with new food? And so, she made fries, grilled fish, beggar’s chicken, and various other delicacies that were not available in this future world. As a glutton, Mo Chu was satisfied with this outcome. However…

“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.