Into the Creations - Chapter 41: World of Vampire Detective [23] R-18

Su Yao, who was clearly a real daughter but died, was reborn.

In her last life, she swallowed her anger, and then she was cruel and cruel.

No one would think it would be too fishy to suck her blood.

Once again, she will be the last month, crowned with pearls, shining brightly.

Someone followed behind her while digging a hole for her, and painstakingly persuaded her:

Without so much effort, do you see the crown on my head?

You are the most gorgeous one above.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.

Li Hua's reign as the twenty-first century's deadliest assassin ended in fire and betrayal. Her own sister, Li Min, turned their elite force against her, leaving nothing but ashes where a legend once stood.In the moment of her death, Li Hua's soul tore free from its earthly bonds, hurtling across the boundaries between worlds until it anchored itself in a new vessel in a realm of ancient martial arts and mystical cultivation. Through this impossible transition, her inner space remained intact—and with it, Little Firefly, her spirit companion.Here, where qi flows like rivers and mountains bow to those who master their cultivation, Li Hua will forge herself anew. No longer content to be merely an assassin of mortal flesh, she sets her sights on ascending to immortality itself—a journey that will shake the very foundations of heaven.

“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.