My Necromancer Class - Chapter 3: New Blood

Pei Jiu picked up a girl by the riverside. He settled her on the mountain, and planned to send her back once she recovered. This delicate girl was a useless crybaby, so Pei Jiu had to be a nice person. He cooked her food and washed her clothes. He let the troublesome girl ride on his shoulders so she could pick fruits. During winter, he would warm up the bed for her. One day, she hugged Pei Jiu’s arm with a smile. “Big Brother Pei, you’re really an honest and a good man. I will marry you and give birth to your babies!”

Pei Jiu eyed her critically and scathingly enumerated her shortcomings. She was ignorant and spoiled. She only knew how to pester and flirt with people all day long. Give birth to babies? Go ahead, give birth to caterpillars.

The delicate girl bawled so hard that she passed out. The next day, Pei Jiu returned to his mansion and told his servants to prepare for his wedding ceremony. When he returned to the mountain in the evening, Pei Jiu opened the door as usual, but he found that the cheeky girl had disappeared. He searched the whole mountain for her to no avail. No one would act like a spoiled brat in front of him anymore. What a headache.

Note : 娇 (jiāo) : tender/delicate/pampered/spoiled

- Description from Novelupdates

In the 21st century, Wu Yue originally thought she was a lonely ghost, but she didn’t know that she was from the 1980s until she was reborn back to her own body.

After all these years of losing her soul, she has always been a fool.

Her father also ordered her a baby kiss?

The other party is still the sweet pastry that everyone wants to marry.

Wu Yue, who has been nurtured in the new era, decided to get rid of this fiance who thought she was a fool.

But she didn’t expect that there was a tall person waiting for her in front of her.

The new book has been opened, {the world is not as good as you}

- Description from novelbuddy

Since I’m good-looking, I might as well become an actor.

“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.