Rebirth Of The Urban Immortal Cultivator - Chapter 1153 - Divine General Naran

This story tells the life of two people, a noble only in name and an older wife from the army, married through a tentative agreement. In the bone-chilling cold, they spend their time hunting, gutting, and cooking by the fireplace. Their daily life passes peacefully. This is the warm love story recounting their daily lives.

After waking up from a car accident, Qin Xue realized that she had traveled back to the 1980s, and what's even more shocking is that there's a ball in her belly. What the hell is going on? Can someone please explain this situation to her? Wasn't that handsome brother not fond of the original host? How come he turns out to be the father of the child?!

Chu Molin: After returning from a mission, how did the house go from being a trash heap to being clean? And how did my willful, arrogant, and unreasonable wife suddenly turn into a gentle and lovely sheep? Also, what's the deal with that belly?

Baby 2: Big brother, Dad and Mom are so silly. It seems like we were sent by Dad to top up their phone credits, right? Baby 1 responds with a hopeless look in his eyes!

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“For a long time, we humans have been like the chosen race, without any natural enemies, and have long been at the top of the food chain. Unfortunately, I have to tell you...” “When there is only one bird in a forest, then the forest is basically fake, and the bird was put there by someone...” “No matter how a fish swims, it can never meet any of its kind, which only means that the fish is kept in a fish tank...” “Yes, we are the birds in the forest and the fish in the tank.” “Yes, the world we live in is virtual!”

“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.