MTL - The Rebirth of an Ill-Fated Consort - Chapter 146 My lady, my gentleman is good.

Heaven and earth are the guest house of all living beings, and time is the passing guest through the ages.

The difference between life and death, just like the difference between dreaming and waking, changes and cannot be questioned.

So beyond life and death, beyond heaven and earth, beyond time, what is waiting for us?

This is Ergen’s sixth novel “Beyond Time” after “The Immortal”, “The Devil”, “I Want to Seal the Heavens”, “An Eternal Thought”, and “Three Inch of the World”.

- Description from novelbuddy

Marry him for a contract, but it is love that supports them to live together.

In order to raise medical expenses for the seriously ill father, she had to sign a contract with a strange man, she would be his wife, and he was responsible for paying for the treatment of her father.

Life after marriage is very ordinary. He is the CEO of the company. He is busy working every day and occasionally has a look at her, but he is full of disgust. However, she fell in love with him little by little, and she was very sad when facing his indifference. Neither of them knew how to resolve the misunderstanding between them.

After experiencing the death of her father and an unexpected pregnancy, they finally opened their hearts, and sincerely, began a happy life.

Tang Sect, the most famous martial arts sect of all. By stealing its most secret teachings to fulfill his dreams, Tang San committed an unforgivable crime. With his ambition attained, he hands his legacy to the sect and throws himself from the fearsome “Hell’s Peak.”

But he could have never imagined that this would reincarnate him in another world, one without magic, martial arts, and grudges. A land where only the mystical souls of battle lay.

The continent of Douluo.

How will Tang San survive in this unknown environment? With a new road to follow, a new legend begins…

- 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.