Married Thrice to Salted Fish - Chapter 147

The most beautiful old ancestor of the immortal sect, who lived for five thousand years, repeatedly broke the rules of immortality and was punished by the Heavenly Dao.Upon opening her eyes, she became the true daughter of the Xia family, who had been kidnapped into a mountain village as a child.She thought she would have to suffer through all the hardships of the human world, but who knew that when she woke up she was directly 14 years later, on the very day she was rescued—She wanted to run wild and be beautiful on her own, but her whole family pampered her to the heavens!Want to do scientific research? Three big brothers donate a research institute.Headache and cold? Powerful parents gather authoritative experts overnight, starting the examinations from cancer.Rumors in Capital City are never-ending: The Xia family's daughter is a spoiled and arrogant waste!The Xia family rose in defiance, but Xia Ye just laughed: I'll handle it myself.The foremost classic instrument of China, she made it casually 500 years ago.The ancient texts that students memorize until they're bald, necessary for the college entrance exam, were written by her 700 years ago in a drunken stupor.The world's seventh greatest unsolved mystery—a relic Sky Pit with a diameter of 7,300 meters—was created by her 1,000 years ago during a quarrel with Heavenly Dao.Everyone was waiting for her to show off and fail miserably, but the Xia family kept receiving calls from the Mutant Plant Association, metaphysics masters, supernatural organizations, cultural archaeology bureaus... “Has the old ancestor returned?”Later, Xia Ye ascended to the second spot on the global rich list. At the award ceremony, she raised an eyebrow: What happened to the divine retribution and punishment, it seems quite nourishing?By her side, the world's richest man, the Heavenly Emperor in a suit and shoes: How could I truly punish my own wife...

Cricket System: Rise of Raj> Pavan Raj was born to play cricket. But when his dreams were crushed by strict parents, jealous rivals, and heartbreak, he gave up everything… until fate gave him another chance.One silent prayer, one wish to return—and he wakes up in his younger self’s body.But this time, something's different.[System Activated]With a mysterious Cricket System that levels up his batting, bowling, fielding, and strategy, Pavan Raj sets out to rewrite his life.No more hesitation. No more missed chances.From gully cricket to selectors' eyes, from self-doubt to sixers—this is his second innings. And this time…He’s playing to win.

“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.