Urban Extraordinary Immortal Doctor - Chapter 2272: Strike First to Gain the Upper Hand

When Su Yaya awakened, she found herself in a novel world as the CEO’s Substitute Wife–-a mere cannon fodder. Knowing that divorce and a tragic ending was awaiting her once her look-alike, the President’s first love returns, Su Yaya only trusted one thing: Money.

She shouldn’t have got drunk, so she wouldn’t have court the troubles.
She slept with a handsome man and would be sent to the police?
Oh, my sweet Jesus…
“So you just ran away like nothing happened after you slept with me?”
“Old jerk! Even if I had the initiative, it was you who took advantage of me!”
As a saying goes, the more spoiled a president gets, the more likely he becomes a scumbag.
An adorable ‘wildcat’ vs. a scheming frenemy.
This was a love rivalry between a modern Cinderella and a Big Boss.
As time flew, the world was like a fleeting show.
When they met again after several years of separation, he held her hand tightly and swore that he would never give her any chance to leave him again!
Finally, he asked her to marry him and pampered his cute wifey with his endless love.

- Description from Novelupdates

[ Mature Content Ahead! ][ Warning: Narcissist & Coldblooded Mc, Narcissist System ] [ You can Skip volume 1 which is simple slife of life + Smut, All Mc does is cuck the top four families and a sect master ][ The above suggestion is must if you hate slow pace smuts, also please purchase privilege and help me in Win-win, 180 coins for 50 chapters ][ Foot fetish & neck fetish ]This book has nothing special aside from how you can alter the fate of Main character.You can choose a option.Ding! Mc has found a girl.1. Add her to the harem2. Kill her.[ The choice lies in your hand]

“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.