Matriarchy: This Assassin Lives Off His Lover

Once, while reading a novel, I came across a comment: “Truck-kun: the standard vehicle for transmigration.” I thought it was funny and admired the commenter’s imagination. Little did I know that one day I’d be sent on my way by a truck myself.

When I woke up and saw the cinnabar mole on my arm, a nameless rage rose within me. In an instant, my resentment shot through the roof.

I’m a perfectly respectable man, yet I’ve got this chastity mark on me. What kind of feudal relic is this? What backward thinking!

This is a Matriarchy world, where women earn the money and support the family while men are beautiful flowers. Seeing those men decked out in finery, whining that peaches are so chilly, makes my eyes hurt. I, Mo Yu, refuse to associate with them.

Still, the women here are wonderful: they can be elegant in public, cook at home, build successful careers, and beat up thugs.

With a free meal practically delivered to my lips, should I take it? Or take it? Or take it?

A man should always strive to be strong and never forget who he is. Men always want to pursue greater strength. The childhood fantasies of immortal heroes and the longing to roam the world with a sword in hand were, at their core, a desire for more powerful, mysterious abilities. Even after growing up and knowing that cultivating immortality or practicing martial arts was out of reach, I was still obsessed with fantasy novels. It turns out I never forgot what I loved from the start. I simply put it in a more reasonable place.