This Lord is Very Scientific - Chapter 8 - 6: No More Acting Cute!

When Cui Qichao’s ancient emperor blood awakened, he began to suppress the emperor’s instincts in various worlds…by crazily farming.

Yandi Shennong’s blood, quality farming guaranteed.

Cui Qichao: I love farming, farming makes me happy!

- Description from Novelupdates

Ye Nanqi and Shen Du upgraded from being enemies to love rivals, fighting against each other for the affections of a pure-hearted girl. Except, on the day of the pure-hearted girl’s wedding, they ended up rolling together on the bed, and unexpectedly got married to each other.

After the marriage, the two thought of countless ways to make the other party be the one who asks for divorce, but when Ye Nanqi took on the role of the “bad husband” by bringing up divorce first, his love rival changed his mind.

Shen Du: “Not divorcing.”

Ye Nanqi: “…”

Shen Du: “Not even in death will we part.”

The pure-hearted girl, “???”

The love rivals turning into lovers scene–although it does not have sweet and sticky typical entertaining scenes, lacks gold finger cheats, and the back story is slightly dark and exaggerated–in fact, this story is a tasty big cookie = w =

- Description from Novelupdates

She was an unprecedented assassin, a trump card deadly agent, but transmigrated through into Ye City’s number one prodigious good-for-nothing young miss. I am an ugly woman? I will break out from my cocoon into a gorgeous butterfly that will blind your snobbish eyes! I am useless piece of heap? Lightning in my hands, I will smite you to a well-cooked crisp!Her greed and lust for money had no end. She is lewd to the core with no bottom in sight, sworn to have love fortunes blossom all around her. However, a certain someone holding a blade in the left hand and a sword in the right hand began cutting those love fortunes one by one! The person smiled with perked brows, “Little Ninth, it looks like I have to let you become occupied!”

“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.