Second Life Ranker - Chapter 658 - Scythe (8)

Easily cowed and bullied, she was the useless, ugly woman with no talent in medical skills. Supported by millions, he was Tianning’s most respected duke with the power to move all under Heaven. On their wedding day the bridal sedan was carried to the front doors, but the Duke of Qin’s gates were shut tight.

They told her, ‘Come back tomorrow.’

All alone, she walked step-by-step full of pride through the duke’s doors. Little could they imagine, this unattractive good-for-nothing was a beautiful, genius doctor of poisons!

—

After transmigrating to the past, poisons expert Han Yunxi finds herself on the verge of being married off to the country’s second most powerful man, the Duke of Qin. Her future life seems set–except her husband is an unfeeling ice block, her in-laws think she’s a eyesore, the empress dowager wants to use her for her own goals, and poison-related plots abound.

Alone, the intelligent (and sensible) Yunxi must carve her own space from the intricate web of court intrigue and the jianghu, relying on her words, wits, and wisdom to survive. Adapt when necessary, use force when required; to survive and thrive is the name of the game to a prosperous life.

No matter what, she’ll prove her right to live!

- Description from novelupdates

Champion dream of an e-sports boy!
Champion dream of an e-sports boy!
Champion dream of an e-sports boy!

- Description from Uukanshu

One day, Fang Jueyu was called into the study by his parents.Fang Father: “Son, you've turned 20 this year, and it's time to tell you some things!”Fang Jueyu: “What is it? You're not going to suddenly tell me you're a wealthy man, are you?”Fang Father is surprised: “You already know?”Fang Jueyu: “What? Really? I was just saying that.”Fang Father: “However, that's not the point. Today, I am going to pass on our family's heirloom that has been handed down from generation to generation to you!”From then on, Fang Jueyu's life underwent a dramatic change.What? You want to talk to me about antiques and calligraphy paintings? Do you want Wang Xizhi's calligraphy or Zheng Banqiao's paintings? Oh, right, Van Gogh even gifted my great-great-great-grandfather a painting!Why, you ask? Because it was my ancestors who funded their education!You want to talk to me about sports cars? Are you talking about Lamborghini, Ferrari, or the Bugatti Veyron? I hold shares in those companies, and I'm even the largest shareholder!What? Your family owns a mine? Sorry, but many of the gold and diamond mines in Africa are ours too!

“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.