Sons of a devil - Chapter 136: when innocent burn

“My sister threatens to take my mate. And I let her keep him.”Born without a wolf, Seraphina is the disgrace of her pack—until a drunken night leaves her pregnant and married to Kieran, the ruthless Alpha who never wanted her.But their decade-long marriage was no fairytale.For ten years, she endured the humiliation: No Luna title. No mating mark. Just cold sheets and colder stares.When her perfect sister returned, Kieran filed for divorce the same night. And her family was happy to see her marriage broken.Seraphina didn't fight but left silently. However, when danger struck, shocking truths emerged:☽ That night wasn't an accident☽ Her “defect” is actually a rare gift☽ And now every Alpha—including her ex-husband—will fight to claim herToo bad she's done being owned.***Kieran's growl vibrated through my bones as he pinned me against the wall. The heat of him seared through layers of fabric.“You think leaving is that easy, Seraphina?” His teeth grazed the unmarked skin of my throat. “You. Are. Mine.”A hot palm slid up my thigh. “No one else will ever touch you.”“You had ten years to claim me, Alpha.” I bared my teeth in a smile. “Funny how you only remember I'm yours... when I'm walking away.”

After avenging her brother, Xie Liangchen felt unburdened. Though she now owed a favor, she believed that with death, all debts would vanish like a snuffed candle.But as thunder roared, she found herself back at the tender age of fourteen. Beside her, Marquis Xuanwei had yet to develop the formidable and menacing presence he once had.Xie Liangchen was about to feign ignorance...Song Xian, with a slight lift of his eyes and a glimmer in his gaze, spoke in a deep voice: “Trying to shirk your debt?”“Didn't you say, 'Marquis, your great kindness will be repaid in another life, even if I must become an ox or a horse?'”Song Xian, who was on the verge of reaching the pinnacle of success, was abruptly pulled back to his nineteen-year-old self by Xie Liangchen's shocking revelation—Is this repayment of kindness or revenge?A powerful alliance with dual rebirths, overflowing pampering, and a thrilling tale of empowerment.

I accidentally changed the whole world, the resurrection of the dead, genetic variation, recovery of the qi, mountain and seas reborn, land and seas expanded and evil spirits have started to appear.

Ghosts are now commonplace. Some people now have three heads and six arms. Some people have obtained martial arts techniques and ordinary people are now just cannon fodder.

Fortunately, I have acquired an ability which can make various items mutate.

books into martial arts or cultivation manuals,

fruits into precious treasures of heaven and earth or poison that you can only imagine and…

weapons, that can split the earth or gain sentience!

- 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.