Yin-Yang Harmony System - Chapter 160

It has been adapted into comic：CEO’s Sudden Proposal / Flash Marriage Deep Love

She didn't understand why he took her to get married at first sight. She was just friendly to his daughter at the hospital, but she did not expect that his daughter haunted her to be her mother. It's only the first day of their meeting!

She thought he married her only because of his daughter, but in fact, he was deeply attracted by her kindness and simplicity, and he loved her deeply.

For the rest of her life, Will she love him like he love her?

This book, alternatively titled “The Heavenly Court of Great Qin,” unfolds the tale of Qin Jun, who finds himself transported to a realm where he assumes the role of a demoted prince. Despite the challenging circumstances, destiny has more in store for Qin Jun than despair—enter the Mythology System!Under this system's influence, any character from mythology can be summoned into existence - The awe-inspiring might of the Supreme Heaven Great Sage, Sun Wukong, capable of shaking mountains and rivers with a single strike of his staff; The Thousand-Mile Eye and Favorable Wind Ears, acquiring profound perception of everything in the world.The Tathāgata Buddha, holding the Buddha Land within the palm of his hand, becomes an indomitable force from which no one can escape. Amidst this divine realm of Gods and Demons, Qin Jun solemnly pledges to rise as the preeminent Divine Emperor, determined to carve his path to unparalleled strength.

“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.