Undying Warlord - Chapter 608 Cut In Half

Li Jing passed through, into a modern world where all the people cultivated immortals.

Everything here has to rely on the aura of self-cultivation to motivate.

With no relatives, no money in his pocket, and no understanding of how to practice, life is struggling.

Until Li Jing walked into a chicken shop and found that he could see the blood bars of the chickens…

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- Description from novelbuddy

When the Earl’s daughter, Serafiona, met the Holy Beast, she realized that she had reincarnated as the villainess of a fantasy novel that she had read in her previous life. This is the story of Serafiona avoiding her worst fate and her dream to become an adventurer with the Holy Beast, Lu.

[ADULT CONTENT WARNING: Explicit intimacy and mature relationship themes. 18+ only.]Seven years together. Two years married.To the world, Alexander Montclair is the perfect husband gentle, patient, and calm. A man who never raises his voice and believes love should be quiet and understanding.But behind closed doors, his silence speaks louder than anger.In our marriage, his family comes before everything. His mother’s wishes dictate our lives, while my own needs are expected to wait. Every compromise, every apology, every sacrifice, it’s always me who gives in.The only time I feel chosen is in our intimacy moment, when desire briefly drowns out duty and that's when he listens to me instead of his family’s voice.But sex moments can’t hold a marriage together.This is not a story about cruelty or violence.It’s about emotional neglect, quiet obedience, and the slow ache of realizing that love without choice will eventually break you.After seven years of loving him, I must decide: Remain the husband who is always second or finally choose myself.

“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.