MTL - The General’s Little Peasant Wife - Chapter 2148 Not negotiable

Transmigration? A Chong Xi Marriage? Sickly husband? How worse can this get?

Mo Qian Xue now lives in a soddy, destitute, small house with broken furnitures. The grass had grown wild and unruly from lack of proper care. The rice pot in the kitchen, it’s left empty. Well, this mess seemed quite manageable, however, why is it they only have one quilt in the house?

Not only does she serve her husband food and refreshments during the day, does she need to make sure he’s well “fed” at night too?

“It’s getting late now… we should go to bed. Said the sickly husband. She simply closed the door, turned off the lights, and went straight to sleep.

“If you dare move, I’ll kick you out of the bed!” She threatened.

In the end, the man still managed to wrap himself around her no matter how she resisted. The sickly husband wasn’t as weak as he appeared to be!

Mo Qian Xue worked hard to become rich. She built workshops, opened factories, one aided by her sickly husband towards prosperity. Fortunately, she could live a peaceful life far from bickering relatives, but then, much to her dismay, she still had to deal with the villagers knocking on her door.

So they want her money? They want her position as a wife? Since when was she, Mo Xian Que easy to bully?! They want to make her lose face? Alright, let them come a little closer then… give them a…. slap!

Nemesis!

If Arianna had known that irritating man would change her life in the worst way possible, perhaps she would have poisoned his coffee the first day they met. Arianna who was tricked and about to be married off to a Loan shark by her uncle’s family, finally found a way to escape. However, that was all ruined when Marcel, the feared lord of the underworld captured her. The one thing she desired the most – her freedom – was taken from her.

Marcel prided on the fact that he was well feared, respected, and revered in the city. His name caved terror in the hearts of people, however, his reputation is put to test when a familiar stranger relieved him of his property right under his nose. Anger simmers in his veins as he goes on a manhunt against the pickpocket who robbed him.

When he gets Arianna, Marcel is sure to show her that nobody steals from Marcel Luciano and goes scot-free. On the other hand, Arianna loathes him so much and would do everything to escape that crazy Mafia. Unfortunately, what if she ends up stealing his heart as well. Read to find out.

~~~~~

“You’re a monster, Marcel,”

“Don’t monsters deserve to be loved too?”

*Note – this book has strong sexual themes, strong language, violence, and gore. It would leave you on the edge and get you screaming for more. So if you can’t handle the burn, drop it without abusing me in the comment box (I won’t take it lightly if it does happen). If you can handle the burn, then welcome to the Mafia world!

.....

[You have become the first ever Player of Life in human history.]

-What did I just see? He can see the flu virus?

-The cell he made grew in the culture medium. This really looks like an embryonic stem cell… Is this true?

Leukemia, dementia, schizophrenia, lung cancer, and pancreatic cancer…

‘Can I overcome it all?’

[Of course.]

A confident message popped up.

Rosaline, the living cell that had become a part of his body.

With this cell, any research he did was nothing but successful!

His story of overcoming all diseases and illnesses begins here.

Disclaimer: Please do not take any medical advice from this novel or any other web novels.

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Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

“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.