Online Game: Low Drop Rate? I Have a Guaranteed Drop System! - Chapter 110: Slaughtering the Beast Wave, Rich Quest

[MATURE CONTENT]Arella is an angel.Well, she used to be an angel. A real, bona fide, halo-wearing, wing-flapping celestial being. That was until one tiny whoopsie where she unfortunately burns a pair of wings at a banquet happens.Fine!There was more than one tiny whoopsie.Fast forward a few hours later, and Arella found herself booted from the pearly gates with nothing but her wings and an eviction notice.Her family called it a “vacation.” Ha! A vacation, in the human realm of all places!One hundred years later, Arella calls it her new life. Turns out, living among humans isn’t half bad—especially when you can turn invisibly smug at their lack of ability to fly. Early retirement has never been so blissful. That is, until the heavens smack her face with a message: Arella’s back on duty. And her new job? Marry. The. Demon. King.Wait, what?!Marrying the Demon King isn’t exactly on Arella’s bucket list, especially when demons and angels have been sworn enemies for eons. But orders are orders. So, off she goes, wings drooping and attitude cranked to full sass, to meet her new husband—a devilishly handsome demon who seems unnervingly smitten with her.Not to mention the heat that surges within her the moment she lays her eyes on him. Cue in dinner dates, fiery arguments (literally), and a series of catastrophes involving Arella purposefully setting a demon's hair ablaze with her holy fire.But as Arella settles into this bizarre celestial-demonic union, she uncovers a sinister plot that threatens not just her marriage but their entire reality. Turns out, angels and demons might have to join forces to stop a threat that neither side can handle alone. And Arella? She might just be the unexpected key to saving everyone.Armed with nothing but her quick wit, trusty angelic powers, and a painfully doting husband who may or may not leave her love notes carved into rock when she is angry, Arella must navigate battles, betrayals, and the occasional marital spat to protect their world. After all, nothing says “happily ever after” like saving existence itself, .... right?Right?One fallen angel. One absolutely smitten demon king. And a whole lot of chaos.

“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.

Lin Yan is a professional car racer who fell from grace after her sister set her up. She becomes an actress for the sake of her boyfriend, who later cheats on her with her sister. Her life, career and relationships reach a slump.

Enter Pei Yucheng, the president of the JM corporation—a multinational conglomerate. He is unfathomable, cold and aloof. At random, he would mysteriously lose control of himself, and Lin Yan is the only one who is able to calm him down. The first time she meets him, she feels an indescribable fear deep within her soul. Unbeknownst to her, they had met each other a long time ago, but she had chosen to forget him…

Soon, something puzzling and strange begins to happen to her. Occasionally, she loses consciousness and ends up in Pei Yucheng’s room the next day, completely unaware of how she ended up there. She suspects that something has possessed her…

Jianghu was in turmoil, an era of great strife. The leader of Great Qin wielded the Mo Blade, leaving the world battered and bruised. The ageless figures of Jianghu crouched upon the mountains, and with a single turn, they cast the entire world below them. Strong men measured the earth with their feet, and heroes of Jianghu could cleave the heavens with one sword, yet in the blink of an eye, they were drunk in the embrace of beauties. The Taoist carried his sword, the Scholar drunk on wine. Wearing tattered clothes, a beggar grasped a rotten branch and dared to storm the ancestral hall of the Taoist Sect. On the willow-lined causeway, in the long pavilion, a man who had sat withered for thirty years turned and stepped out, holding a peach blossom, with a flick of his wrist, he shattered ten miles of red candles. The era of Great Qin was renamed the Great Yuan Era. The youth with the Wooden Sword left his mountain village behind.