Peasant Woman’s Decreed Life as a Wife - Chapter 86 - : Old Madam Ye

After making preparations for transmigration into the VR world “Mystical Era”, the previous veteran player Xia Yuan becomes an NPC, and is even made the fourth son of the Duke of the Empire!Already prepared for a boring aristocratic life, he never expects that the era has totally changed!As the last obstacle, his family has been labelled as a villain by the new aristocracy and will soon be crushed by history! Xia Yuan has no choice but to gradually strengthen his own power according to his knowledge of the game's history.Lost treasures, forbidden ancient weapons, secrets of immortality, forgotten epics...With one's own strength, save the world! Change fate! Rise from the ashes!...The knight swears, the mage sings, and the dragon spreads its wings!Pursue magic and truth, and control the fate of yourself and the era!Stand in the clouds, above the floating city and the throne of the sky!The bell rings, and the signs finally appeared.-It’s time for the stars to align-

The end of the beginning marks the beginning of a new era. Gods and demons were buried in the past, their history had crumbled into dust. As of now, twelve scriptures were passed down.

With the passage of time, during an excavation, a mysterious scroll of star map was unearthed at Egypt. As if carrying its mission, it abruptly appeared, yet abruptly disappeared. During its disappearance, a youth was brought along with it…

- 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.