Fury Towards The Burning Heaven - Chapter 1717 - Charging up Azure Supreme ThearChapter Peak Solo

In Xu Yun Yao’s previous life, she overcame all obstacles barring her way just to become a queen. However, under the suppression of several ministers headed by Tang Song Nian she failed in the end. Just out of reach with bitter hatred in her heart, only to wake up and find herself reborn as the daughter of Tang Song Nian, as she died early.

Xu Yun Yao: I will trample you! You old fart! You dare to oppose this palace!

Tang Song Nian (laughing with joy): Aiya, our daughter’s boldness is truly too powerful.

Xu Yun Yao: I will kick you! I will bite you! You dare lead those ministers to slander this palace!

Tang Song Nian (gratified smile): I knew little treasure loves father best.

Xu Yun Yao: …….

- Description from Novelupdates

Miss Witch's 'warm' daily life in the Cyber Interstellar Era, occasionally epic and impassioned.————She was a timid girl who grew up in the cyber metropolis.She was a crying child trudging through the mud.She was a Legendary star admired by the vulgar masses for her transcendence.She was a dark songstress who brought sorrow and tears to the world.She was a cold-hearted Witch who could not speak of false hope.She was a bloodstained Angel singing the finale...

In the age of the Warring States, the world is at war!

At this moment, a great empire is about to be established, and at this moment, this empire is at stake.

In this vast world, Young Master Qin shouted loudly, “I want this great Qin Wanshi–!”

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.