Warrior Training System - Chapter 220 Thighs are life (R-18)

Three reincarnations. Fourth life.

She was chosen to grow up as the Child of Fate; but when the real Child of Fate appeared, she was sacrificed for that child.

In the second life, she was abused.

In her third life, she lived as a beggar.

“This country is not safe. Let’s defect!”

LeBlaine chooses to be re-born into a new family to defect. The family she chooses is…

… the family of the future biggest villains in the Kingdom.

“Let’s try to get along until the time of my exile!” is what she tried to do. But what happened was…?

“My daughter is the cutest IN THE WORLD!”

“Give me that building, I can use it as my sister’s bathroom.”

“Don’t worry, LeBlaine asked me not to hit you. Not to not kill you.”

“WHO, WHO MADE MY SISTER CRY?!”

“That’s a jinx and must be rid of. It’s that or you and your family get out of here.”

Su Xiaolu was transmigrated into this world as a newborn, and the instant she opened her eyes, she was deemed a burden and a jinx by a venomous grandmother-in-law.

Her father, Su Sanlang, gritted his teeth and said, “Alright then, you can separate us from the family and we’ll leave.”

For the sake of keeping her alive, they were forced to leave the main family and start a new life elsewhere. They ventured into a new profession, went hunting, and their lives gradually improved.

Despite being called a jinx, she became the apprentice of a divine physician at the age of three, inherited his legacy, and became known to the world. She treated her brothers’ brain disease and her eldest brother became a profound martial artist while her second brother became a scholar. They all brought glory to their family.

Now a divine physician herself and well-versed in nutritious recipes, she owned the largest restaurant in the Zhou Dynasty and earned so much money that she couldn’t possibly finish spending them in ten lives.

Her family grew more prosperous and their horrible relatives showed up, trying to ride their coattails.

Su Xiaolu smirked. “Close the gates and release the tiger!”

“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.

It all started when a minute before we began morning activities, something suddenly occurred. The floor started shining a dazzling light, the shining expanded in an instant, and 30 classmates, including me, were laying on top of a place we didn’t recognize.