MTL - Supreme Throne of Doom - Chapter 133 Holy See's confidence

As the eldest daughter of the Yang Family's main branch, Yang Ruxin's pleasure was building the family fortune and supporting her younger siblings. But why was that blind and lame guy such a Relentless Spirit?When she cooked, he would come to light the fire;When she set up her stall, he would follow to hawk her goods...“I say, Mr. Gu, do you have to help with everything I do?” Yang Ruxin asked with a hint of annoyance.“Yes,” Mr. Gu nodded earnestly.“Then right now I want to...”“Wife.” Mr. Gu hurriedly stood up from his wheelchair, “as long as we don't part, I'll give you anything you want.”

Yu Zhi, a senior salted fish in the world of cultivation, transmigrated into the outer room of the third son of Marquis Wu’an in the Daqing Dynasty. This girl was fair and beautiful, with a delicate body and a soft body. She was presented by a local official when the third son went out to investigate a case.

After Yu Zhi figured out his own situation, his mentality was very stable. The outside room is the outside room, with food and housing included, high salary, low requirements, good-looking boss, good figure, generous hand, where can I find such a good job?

Yu Zhi, this salted fish, was flying in the waves in Daqing.

Keeping on, the boss looked at her with increasingly hot eyes.

Keeping on, the boss insisted on marrying her as the boss’s wife despite the family’s opposition.

No! A marriage with the wrong family has no future, and an office romance is a no-brainer. She just wants to be a low-level employee, not a high-ranking employee.

But facing the boss’s temptation, Yu Zhi touched his chin, tempted! Otherwise, change the map and continue to hang on?

With a thunderbolt from the blue sky, the young minister of Dali Temple and the third son of Marquis of Wu’an’s mansion were actually bewitched by a small concubine from a lowly background, and insisted on marrying her as his wife.

On the day of the wedding, Jing Chengfang’s heart was broken.

Qi Dafei, no one believes that an outer room can secure the seat of the third wife Wen, and everyone sits and waits for Yu Zhi to be divorced

But a year or two passed, not only did Yu Zhi not get divorced, but she was even spoiled by her husband more and more coquettishly

Three years and five years have passed, and Yu Zhi still hasn’t been divorced. She has both children and is held in the palm of her husband’s hand

She has become the most envied woman in the whole capital!

No one knew that Yu Zhi was the woman that Wen Jiuxiao had married with all his might. He didn’t love this world, but for her, he was willing to treat the world kindly.

- Description from novelbuddy

Never had the Radcliffe family expected their son-in-law, a loser in their eyes, to be the hidden Dragon Lord who had lived for myriads of years...

“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.