The law of Fiction: Harem in the fiction world - Chapter 178 Ch 176: The Decoy [Pt1]

My name is Chen Mo, a gaming nerd.Recently, I've been obsessed with a single-player game called “Absolute Immortal” and have defeated the final boss, [Lady Yu], over a hundred times using cheats.Then, I transmigrated.I became Lady Yu's lackey.On my first day at work, why does it feel like Her Majesty is looking at me strangely...?...My name is Yu Youhan, Imperial Consort of the Yuan Dynasty, with immense cultivation power, dominating the nine provinces.I recently had a 'dream'.In the dream, I was wantonly tormented by a man, utterly powerless.I initially thought it was a mistake in my cultivation, thus giving rise to a heart demon, until that 'inner demon' appeared right in front of me......Within the high walls of the deep palace.'There are many ways to conquer a heart demon, it doesn't necessarily have to be through force...''Your Majesty, I, I admit defeat!''Who allowed you to admit defeat? Dare to defy this palace, and you'll be punished for another hour!''...'

One day, Luo Jian woke up from his sleep and found himself in a locked chamber where the door and window were all sealed. A note with a few lines written on it was tacked to the wall: “Escape from this room within an hour, otherwise, you will die.”

There is a sequel called Reincarnation Night (轮回之夜) that takes place in the same universe but has different main characters

- Description from Novelupdates

He was a wealthy and mysterious financial backer who had appeared before her when she needed money the most. After the courtship, she took the money and left.

“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.