Mistaking My Sister-In-Law for My Wife After Getting Drunk! - Chapter 654 - : The White-Haired Old Man

The Third Dimension is collapsing. The Fourth Dimension is descending.

First it seemed that only technology would evolve, but who knew the world itself could too? It wasn’t as simple as climate change or tectonic movement. No, the fundamental laws of physics that governed everything were changing.

Leonel was fairly lucky. His family was decently well off, his father loved him enough to brew vomit inducing nutrient rich smoothies every morning, and this was both the day of the National Championship and his 521st confession to his dream girl, Aina. As his father always said, nothing was more important than respect and persistence.

Unfortunately, everything changed that night. At the after party of ages, the world reached a saturation point and an apocalypse descended.

Abilities awakened. Sub-Dimensional Zones opened. Invalids rampaged through the Earth like a virus…

Those who could evolve would have a slim chance for survival. Those who couldn’t would die.

This novel will be a unique spin on the dungeon/system genre. Dungeons won’t be dungeons and the system won’t be a system… Take a look to find out what I maen :)

How long can you hold out as a fugitive under the capture of top inspection officers?”

Wang Yun had just arrived in this parallel world, only to find himself participating in a reality show, playing the role of a fugitive.

How can he evade capture by the various program’s hunters?

The longer the escape, the higher the reward, with a maximum prize of ten billion.

…

“Ding, congratulations to the host for obtaining the peerless rogue system.”

“Ding, congratulations to the host for obtaining god-level parkour skills.”

“Ding, congratulations to the host for obtaining god-level driving skills.”

A battle of physical strength.

A battle of wits.

The world is stunned!

……………………………………………………………

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Mu Mu transmigrated in the novel that had the plot like a fraud marriage with a man dressed in women’s clothing, rich man regretting and taking revenge after rebirth.

The body he had transmigrated into was none other than that of a scumbag who was a fraud man dressed in women’s clothing. He was also the one that the protagonist took revenge against.

And now, he was standing at the door of the Civil Affairs Bureau with that damn protagonist, holding the newly-released marriage certificate in his hand.

Mu Mu agitatedly raised his head. He saw the fierce and sinister expression on that damn protagonist. He was twitching the corners of his mouth, showing a grim smirk of wishing to eat his blood and flesh.

Mu Mu’s legs were weak and his eyes turned dark. He was trembling: “My good brother, why don’t we get a divorce?”

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.