I Swear I Don't Have A Python In My Pool - Chapter 964 - : Li Daye Left Grieving

Five years ago, Gu Jiayu, who climbed out of the mountain nest, entered the entertainment circle in order to cultivate, and in order to overcome the shortcomings of emotional gaps, he used an excellent acting skill to hook up a Chinese “little nobleman” abroad. After a month of falling in love and feeling love, he ran away with guilty conscience after the other party proposed marriage.

Five years later, Gu Yingdi had become popular all over the country, but he had a four-year-old son beside him. 

One day, the little handsome guy pointed at the man who took up the entire page in the financial newspaper and said, “Dad, this man looks like me!” Gu Jiayi glanced at the calm, handsome man in a suit and shoes in the newspaper, and asked with a guilty conscience, “He has an onion head, and his body is black and black like the top post. Are you sure you look like him?” That night, “Top Door Post” came to the door … Gu Jiayu, “My son, hide your tail!”

- Description from Novelupdates

Everyone said Su Xiaofeng from Lihua Village was lucky, despite having two kids to drag around, she still married a big shot from the Imperial Capital, making everyone green with envy.But the truth was this:In the 21st century, Su Xiaofeng, a leftover woman who started her own business, died unexpectedly while pregnant and was reborn into the body of a village girl from the 1990s.Right after arriving, she discovered the shocking news that she was pregnant.Touching her chin and then excitedly patting her stomach, Su Xiaofeng said, “It's like finding what you've been searching for without any effort at all.”To ensure that after the baby's birth, she could do whatever she wanted, Su Xiaofeng rolled up her sleeves and got to work, and by accident, she obtained a Spiritual Mirror, renowned for its wealth and beauty.From then on, she went further and further down the path of stepping over Lianhua, tearing apart local thugs, torturing her unkind mother, and beating up big shots... wait, no, on the path to getting rich.Only, her twins were beginning to look more and more like a certain big shot from the Imperial Capital.This story is fictional; rigorists beware!

He was the continent’s strongest and most revered alchemist, Ye Zifeng. He was under one person and above millions. However, due to an unpredictable event, he had died. After his rebirth, he had become the supertrash of the Ye family and suffered disgrace. To make matters worse, he had an argument with his fiancé that led to the break off of his engagement. In this second life, he will work to change his own destiny. He vows to return to the peak of the world, trample on those who laughed at him and rewrite his legacy!

- 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.