Conquering System: Harem With Infinite Rebirths - Chapter 67: Come Live With Us

I am a female secretary of an overbearing president in a typical dog blood drama text.

The kind of person who doesn’t have a name at the end of the day, and could only be called “secretary”, one who wears a tight fitting black dress and a pair of 10cm high heels every day, running around in front of the president, humbly praying for the president’s attention, and hating the heroine.

In fact, I really don’t. If I like the president, I’ll be struck by lightning.

I’m getting more and more sick of the president lately. Except for the outstanding appearance that the author forced on him, this person is really useless from head to toe, low in EQ, and low in IQ.

A legendary business genius who is all-powerful, but he doesn’t even understand anything, chickens know more than him.

I had to reject all of his unreasonable demands every day, and on the way, teach him relevant knowledge of economic law and finance, and gradually…he became a master.

I’m so tired, I really want to quit my job.

- Description from Novelupdates

The top student from the Agricultural University, Qiao Mu, was digging in the experimental field when her hoe struck through to the godforsaken Tupo Village.No money, no rice, no tall, rich, and handsome guy, the aunts and the older female cousins pecked at her every day, making her meals less than satisfying with constant bread rolls, leaving her so hungry she felt faint.Luckily, the Heavens took pity and rewarded her with a tall and handsome man, who was enthusiastic and bold. His debut move was to climb straight into bed, sparking rampant gossip in the village: that Qiao girl, the third daughter, is nothing but trouble at such a young age, shamelessly bringing some wild man into her boudoir to fool around – absolutely shameless!Muniang looked to the sky and bellowed, “Alpacas! You think I'm Hello Kitty when I don't show my claws?”Make a fortune, become rich, fight off the scum, raise a husband – life became increasingly lush.

In the twilight years of the dynasty, treacherous villains rose to power and demons plagued the world.Qin Zheng, bearing a scroll of virtuous deeds, traveled through time and found that by beheading those wrapped in sin, he could attain virtue and enhance his martial arts prowess.Thus, Qin Zheng glanced at the Ghost Head Greatsword in his hand.“The auspicious moment has come, to the execution!”With a great shout, Qin Zheng swung his blade and beheaded his target!!----------------This book is also known as “I've Become an Executioner After Time Travel?” and “Achieving Sainthood Through Merit, I Seek Elevation by Executing Sinners”......

“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.