MTL - Best Son-in-law - Chapter 3011 I'm waiting for him in hell

Reborn in a parallel world, he became a rookie fishing channel host.On the first day of fishing, he caught a corpse, unexpectedly solving a major case.On the second day, he caught a broken radio, miraculously receiving a broadcast from the future.On the third day, he caught a book of intrinsic skills, casually practicing it and becoming a supreme master.On the fourth day, he caught a string of ancient coins, uncovering a thousand-year-old sunken ship.......On the nth day, he caught a nuclear submarine.Fang Hao was baffled.Why couldn't he catch a fish but instead caught all sorts of strange things???The online audience was also stunned. When would he actually catch a real fish?

Jiang Li takes a meal and gains the status [Satiety].

[Satiety: Restores 1 Stamina per minute. Duration: ∞]

He no longer has to eat.

He sticks a talisman on himself and gains the status [Armored Horse Divine Travel].

[Armored Horse Divine Travel: Increase movement speed by 1000%. Duration: ∞]

Taking pills, gaining spiritual qi, refining the body, nurturing the soul, and increasing life expectancy…

He only needs one pill for the status to take effect for the rest of his life.

Those crippling secret techniques that boost power for three seconds but result in three-year feebleness? They are now the most powerful and most amazing techniques!

Waiting for a thousand years to comprehend the Dao after using one enlightenment pill? No, he is comprehending the Dao every day!

He is Jiang Li, a Prince Charming who can turn an instant into eternity →_→…

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”

“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.