Nine Heavenly Thunder Manual - Chapter 372 – Ancient Gray Beas

The eternal struggle between good and evil, Qin Shuang steps onto the path of cultivating, meeting various heroic individuals on her way to immortality, experiencing various events on her journey.

- Description from Novelupdates

She is a descendant of an Ancient Chinese Aristocratic family. Having just transmigrated into a young lady’s body filled with aphrodisiacs, she had no choice but to pounce at a random man upon arrival.

Unexpectedly, not only did she get caught red handed, she’s also pregnant with child before marriage.

In the end, the baby she carried for ten months turned out to be a little fox, and it could cry “Mama” once born? Fortunately for her, the child is well-behaved, kind, and caringly protective of his mother.

In this world filled with both evil and good, this pair of mother and son will work together to destroy all their adversaries. As for the scumbag relatives who scorned them, they will make them pay dearly with regret in mind.

But then one day, baby fox’s father suddenly showed up, not only to steal the child, but to steal her too? How can there be such a good thing? This foolish father of his, didn’t even ask for little fox’s opinion?

Stabbing his hands to his hip, a certain little fox demands: “You want to be my father? First pay up then go behind the line. Mother, I think next door’s Uncle Wang is quite rich, you can just become Uncle Wang’s daughter-in-law.”

- Description from novelupdates

Once an imperial princess, now reborn among the lowest of s*aves of the nobility.

“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.