The Demonic King Chases His Wife: The Rebellious Good-for-Nothing Miss - Chapter 2515: Realization (6)

With the revival of spiritual energy and the breakdown of the order of species, it is a difficult test whether human beings can still stand at the top of the biological chain.

(There is already an old book, The Strongest Descends in the City, you can read it.)

- Description from novelbuddy

“Rebirth in the 90s: The Counterattack of the Delicate Wife” is now available, please support it, dear old and new readers.Bai Xiao was reborn in 1985, back to when she was 18 years old during the release of the college entrance examination results. Her grandmother and uncle, afraid she would break free from their control, had hidden her university admission notice. Nobody would dream of stopping her from attending university this time. In her past life, her soldier brother and married sister protected her; this life, she would protect them.Chen Shimei's trash father, stepmother, and stepsister can all step aside, I don't know you.When she resolutely jumped into the river, that person... this isn't murder, sister is reclaiming her special ability from her past life.A certain man: Whether it's suicide or murder doesn't matter, you owe me a life-saving debt. Marry me in return!............With over a million completed writings, quality guaranteed, we welcome new and old readers to collect and support with recommendations.

The afterglow of the Middle Ages has not yet dissipated, but the best times have come.

The protagonist travels through Edward VI of the Tudor (duo) dynasty in the 16th century, centralizes power, rebuilds the parliament, and establishes the United Kingdom of Britain. It will take you to experience the most powerful dynasty in Britain, the dawn of the empire on which the sun never sets.

“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.