Transmigrated as Investment Banker in Cultivation world - Chapter 185: Playing around

After Lin Qi married into the Huo family, the entire Huo family was eagerly awaiting her to give birth to an heir for the ailing young master.She originally thought that marrying Huo Tingdong meant she was destined to be a widow, never expecting that her vegetative husband would suddenly awaken.Overnight, with a divorce agreement, she became a discarded woman of the wealthy family but suddenly disappeared from Beijing.Seven years later, she returns with two powerful sons by her side, with countless people lining up wanting to be the stepfather of these children.The most regrettable thing Huo Tingdong ever did was to force that little ancestor to sign the divorce agreement. To win her back, the once all-powerful man poured his heart into appeasing her, pampering her to no end, but the two sons were determined to be his biggest obstacles.Eldest son: “Daddy! Your posture while kneeling on the washboard isn't as handsome as mine!”Youngest son: “Daddy! Your speed at swiping cards isn't as fast as mine!”Huo Tingdong never expected that the biggest hindrances on his path to win back his wife would be these two little treasures!

“Today’s sign-in +1 is not used, please start today’s sign-in!”

“Sign in successfully, get 10 billion cash, which has been transferred to the bank account, please check.”

Ding, 10000000.00 yuan has been credited to your bank card.

“The treasure chest has not been opened today, do you want to open the treasure chest?”

“Successfully open the treasure chest, get a luxury cruise ship worth tens of billions, a private helicopter worth tens of billions!”

Chu Ping: “This system is too awesome!”

Kiro is a slave branded with a deadly collar, forced to work in brutal mines under the ruthless Kargal Empire. Each year, slaves are hunted for sport in the deadly Hunting Games—a fight to the death on a savage alien moon. This year, Kiro is chosen to play. Sent into a wilderness filled with monsters and traps, survival seems impossible. But something ancient watches from the shadows—and it has plans for him.

“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.