Tenebroum - Chapter 210: A Brief History Lesson

A piece of divorce paper sent Xia Xinghe into a state of destitution. However, a car accident later, she transformed into a professional hacker with more money than she could ever spend. All those that have belittled, bullied and laughed at me, please line up, I’ll show you what the meaning of face-slapping is! Wait, wait, wait. That guy over there, the ex-husband that I no longer have any relations with, don’t cut in line. What, you want to help me face-slap these people? “Not only that I will help you face-slap myself!” The wickedly handsome man with billions of dollar in estate raised his own palm to slap his own face without reservation!

Three years ago, Cambria Vale was the trembling bride standing beside Maddox Raye the powerful billionaire who humiliated her and destroyed their marriage before it ever had a chance to bloom.Now she’s back. Not as his wife, but as a rival. Hardened. Beautiful. Unrecognizable. And hellbent on revenge.When a media scandal threatens Maddox’s empire, he’s forced to remarry the one woman he thinks he can control. But Cambria isn’t here to be tamed. She’s here to burn his kingdom to the ground.The only thing more dangerous than betrayal… is falling in love with your enemy again.

By the time I realized it, I had reincarnated into another world.

I kept sleeping, and at some point I became a Demon Lord.

Even though I never wished for it.

But for me to not have to work, this world is the best. It must be true that good things happen to good people.

The flavor of Sloth is as sweet as honey. Glory, diligence, virtue, or honor. I have no interest in anything like that.

What’s there to hide? The Lazy king is… none other than me.

“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.