MTL - Start with a Mechanical Hunter - Chapter 441 miniature black hole

As a top manager, everyone constantly tries to curry favor with Li Xiwu. And due to her identity as Mrs. Pei, the rich and the powerful would always greet her politely. A celebrity instructor, and the wife of a man from a rich family… Is there anyone who would not envy her? However, only Li Xiwu knows that she is a substitute for Mr. Pei’s unrequited love, and none of her titles or privileges have anything to do with her.***

Losing yourself after being someone else’s substitute is a tedious thing. Having gained that epiphany, Li Xiwu began to ponder how she should claim alimony of astronomical proportions from Mr. Pei. However, while she was obsessing over how to get rich from the divorce, her mother-in-law, who had always disliked her, invited her to take part in a variety show, while promising to make her rich. Li Xiwu’s lips curled into a grin. “Fortune favors the brave!”At first, her mother-in-law constantly attempted to embarrass her, and netizens were all moaning about how she was the most pitiful rich daughter-in-law! Later, her mother-in-law was inseparable from Li Xiwu, and would keep bragging about her to everyone she met, leaving the netizens cheering: Leave the face-slapping to Mrs. Pei! Li Xiwu did not expect herself to shoot to fame in the variety show either. However, while she was convinced that she could get a smooth divorce afterward, her mother-in-law called her son immediately as soon as the variety show ended.“Divorce my baby, and I will disown you!”Mr. Pei: ???

Terminally ill before even reaching the age of 40, Song Nuanyi awaited a gloomy end. Her death just happened to clash with her son’s wedding. Yet, her children, who she painstakingly raised, her mother-in-law, who she served for so many years, and her husband, who she exchanged vows with to love and cherish forever, none of them noticed her. When they finally discovered her corpse, they simply said, “Just bury it.”

Everyone else went on to enjoy the wedding while her funeral was empty with no visitors. No, one person did come. She watched as the person she despised cried his heart out in front of her grave, revealing his love for her. The sorrow in his voice made tears well up in her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, she had returned in time to the day before her wedding. The memories of her past life were still vivid in her mind. She hurried to the race track and found the man to blurt out, “I’m getting married tomorrow. Don’t you want to crash the wedding? Don’t you want to steal me away?”

The man was stunned before snickering. “Ms. Song, did you hit your head?” She added insistently, “I’m asking you one last time, are you brave enough to come?” The man did not answer but pulled out a credit card instead. “Ms. Song, if something is wrong with your head, go and have it checked.” She took the card and said, “I’ll take this as your betrothal gift.”

Having said that, she left. The man was dumbstruck, as he never expected her to take his card.

News of the self-righteous young lady of the Song family seeking out the capital’s number one playboy, Young Master Jin, spread quickly. Someone asked the man what happened, but he just blew a whistle and said, “Come along with me tomorrow. We have a big business to do.”

Song Nuanyi was anxious because she did not know when he started liking her in their past life. Would he even show up tomorrow?

Character Setting:

Song Nuanyi – self-righteous, aloof, noble young lady

Wu Chenjin – frivolous, dandy, young master

The century long war had just ended and humanity had managed to get their hands on alien technology, sending them years ahead in terms of technological advancement, fulfilling their hope of finding life outside their planet and their desire to dominate these extra-terrestrial existences. The effects of their technological advancement alone wasn’t capable of giving this result.The appearance of mutations which granted supernatural powers among humans was another boon giving them the chance to act out their darkest desires.Their joy took a dark turn when it was revealed that they were nothing more than livestock to the mysterious race, Xillthars, who cultivated them to that level. Like fattening livestock.Shortly before this dark turn of times was a forbidden creature, Kieran who had been born into the lowest levels of a society created by the greed of humans. To him, life had always been hard, but things got worse after the arrival of the Xillthars as he found himself on a trail of shocking discoveries about himself and the world around 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.