I Became a Villain Breeder

I slipped into a Machiavellian novel and became the most inconspicuous cannon fodder in the book. The male protagonist of this book is a righteous and awe-inspiring young general, and the villain is a crazy critic of powerful officials who kills without blinking an eye. The two fought for three full volumes. In the end, the hero pierced the heart with a sword, and the villain fell in a pool of blood with a smile on his lips. The author's verdict: Born evil, death is not a pity. The readers all applauded. The character I dressed as was described in the book in only two sentences - a concubine in the prime minister's palace who abused a young villain and was executed by the adult villain four months later. As for why she abused him, what happened in the middle, and what kind of person she was, the original novel didn't write a word. To put it simply, he is just a tool that is not even a background. He appears just to die. On the day I passed through, I knelt in the woodshed, holding a bloody whip in my hand. In the corner was a six-year-old child, with iron chains tied to his feet, lying on the ground licking sour porridge. He looked up at me, his eyes were cold and heavy, not like a child, but like a wolf cub that had been cornered. The system prompts in your head: The villain's darkening value is 89%, and your survival countdown has begun. I looked at those eyes and was silent for a long time. Then he threw away the whip and went to the kitchen to get a bowl of braised pork. What happened next was not written in the original work. All I know is that I raised a wolf cub. And the way he looked at me changed from hatred to something else.