World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time - Chapter 32: Miami

[Sweet, satisfying, pampering, lots of face slapping.]Zhang Caishen's era had come to an end and he could never rise again, or so they said. But why did he seem to be getting richer and more powerful even if he was now crippled and abandoned by his betrothed?Why was he suddenly so unnaturally lucky?The answer was simple; his new wife!!Lin Alix was not lucky when it came to her family. She was the older, less loved and less talented one in comparison to her younger sister who stole everything from her.But fate intervened and she got lucky when it came to a husband, not only was he wealthy but he loved to spoil her.Suggested by her infinite luck gaming system, Alix married her sister's unwanted crippled husband to be and stepped on the path of a winner in life.She swept up music awards, gained international recognition and got her revenge on her cruel family while becoming Beijing's most envious wife.“Are you crazy, you willingly married a crippled man?” her friends asked.“Yes, but have you seen how much he pampers me?” she asked in turn.“She will cheat on him, he is a cripple and he can't perform his husbandly duties.” others gossiped.Alix looked at the so called crippled man who climbed into her bed night after night and laughed. Sorry, he was more than capable.“Honey, I am here to perform my husbandly duties.” he would always say coquettishly when he flipped her over.This book is participating in the WSA and the author will appreciate all your support.Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, nothing should be compared to the real world no matter how similar.

The hellhound is a legendary beast known for its fierce loyalty and formidable power, serving as a guardian of the underworld. During a cataclysmic cosmic conflict between gods and devils, the hellhound is tragically killed as collateral damage, his life extinguished in a battle far beyond his control.Millennia later, the hellhound is reincarnated as a human, awakening in a world that has forgotten his true nature. Retaining his past abilities, he must now attend a prestigious academy for those possessing supernatural powers, designed to train the next generation of guardians and warriors.As he navigates the complexities of human emotions and relationships, he must also confront the remnants of his past life. Whispers of the cosmic conflict still linger, and dark forces are at play, threatening to disrupt the fragile balance between realms. In a world where alliances are fragile and danger lurks around every corner, he must learn to embrace his identity as both a hellhound and a human.

Born of a great family, world shaking genius.

“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.