Back to the Past: The Rise of the False Heiress Marrying the True Tycoon - Chapter 6: Skinny

Luo Jun is a glorious little security guard, and also the best one, there is no one!

In the prosperous city, Luo Jun is like a fish in water with super skill and extraordinary wisdom.

The enemy was fierce and broke it with his fist.

The enemy is cunning and breaks it with wisdom.

However, the beauty and maturity of the divorced female proprietors, the unparalleled wisdom of the Bingshan president’s sister, and the heroic appearance of the police flower sister, when their intertwined love network attacked and killed, Luo Jun’s fist and wisdom had lost its effect? I can’t break it!

- Description from MTL

“Ride this, my beloved consort!” Instantly rewarded with a punch in his charming face. He looked hurt, “I just wanted you to try out the mythical beast mount!”

Zhu Tong was born in a wealthy family, but the pampered young master suffered from a serious cleanliness addiction, and there were so many things that even God can’t stand it, so he was given a sickness and even coughed three mouthfuls of blood.

The day before his death, he was inexplicably bound to a system.

The system told him that he was actually a cannon fodder villain in a danmei novel who humiliated the heartthrob protagonist and suffered the consequences. If he wanted to survive, he had to find the only one in the novel, the white moonlight, who was not attracted to the protagonist and get full favorability from him.

In order to find him, Zhu Tong changed schools.

The new school was located in a remote small county with eight-person dormitories, a canteen for big pot meals, and only one public toilet in a teaching building.

Zhu Tong: In order to survive, he will endure!

- 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.