Marrying My Father's Enemy - Chapter 143: A Scene

Ascension of the Hollow Star

At five years old, the child from the metaphysical family is about to leave the mountain, and the bigwigs of the capital city have come out to see him off.What's so great about a little dumpling?Yun Xiaoqi innocently spreads his hands, claiming he never intended to show off his powers; his simple wish is to be a good child while subtly dominating all sorts of spirits.Many oppose him during this time, and the “Little Celestial Maiden” Yun Ying teams up with various metaphysical leaders to continuously challenge him, only to be soundly beaten, losing face.Finally, the bigwigs bow down in reverence: it’s we mortals who were blind and offended the little ancestor!***The news of the little dumpling ruling over the metaphysical world reaches the Nether Realm.The Lord of the Nether Realm frowns: this milky little master must be the youngest and most temperamental special envoy from the Nether Realm.The little dumpling, carrying a lantern, walks among the mountains and rivers of the earth, guiding the souls with a proud stomp, declaring: Lord of the Netherworld is not much older than me, who are you calling childish!The noble and refined Lord of the Nether Realm lands and transforms into a twelve-year-old boy, gentle as jade: whatever the little envoy says is right.Yun Xiaoqi keeps waving his hands: nope, I'm just working here.

Abandoned at birth in a humble stable, Shirone was raised by commoners—but he was anything but ordinary. Blessed with remarkable insight, he taught himself to read at a young age. A fateful visit to the city introduced him to the wonders of magic, igniting an unshakable dream of becoming a mage. Yet, beneath the city's dazzling facade lurked a ruthless social hierarchy, where power and privilege crushed those who dared to rise above their station. As Shirone uncovers the world's darkest secrets before even coming of age, one question remains—can he defy fate and claim his destiny as a mage in a world determined to keep him down?

“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.