Becoming The Business Magnate's Spoiled Wife - Chapter 102

Crying blood and tears, she pledged a poisonous vow. The gods did not fail her. She was sent back to a decade ago. The legitimate daughter of Jiang family returned from hell.

One of the six people called heroes, Raid, fought alone against the Devil, and ended up dead.

After meeting with a suspicious god, he woke up again and found out he has born again as a baby.

Moreover, as a daughter of his former companions.

In order to regain his former power, Raid/Nicole has to go through a life of hardships to reach the ideal he aims for.

Monsters appear frequently, instances are everywhere!When various classes shine brightly, Li Haotian awakens to what everyone considers the most useless Illusion God class—the Mechanic!But what others don't know is that Li Haotian's Mechanic can unlock a special talent every ten levels![Unlimited Ammo]When others are cautiously navigating instances, Li Haotian is already surrounded by countless Superpower Mechanical creations—Gatling guns, Rocket Cannons, bombers, Wolverines, Terminators, intercontinental missiles, Aircraft Carriers...and, unlimited ammo![God's Eye View]While others are carefully exploring the enemy's situation, Li Haotian is eating hotpot and watching the enemy gradually fall into the encirclement of the superpower army, grinning.[Air Drop Support]When the enemy is playing outdated tactics like blitzkrieg and encircling points to reinforce, Li Haotian remains calm, pointing to the sky—the superpower army instantly descends thousands of miles away, covering the skies of Sakura Country!Abyss Dungeon, Slaughter Dungeon, large group instances, international war instances... Li Haotian sneers and goes alone.Because, I alone, can rival a million troops!

“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.