MTL - City Exchange Life Club - Chapter 229 : Zhao Yan is going to be a father

Three thousand years of bowing down to the Demon Lord, I would rather be a mortal than a celestial being when looking back, but for her I will… become one who controls life and death!

After being kicked out by her family, she turned out the real heiress worth billions, and people around her got to know it.Her family regretted deeply and demanded half of her fortune as repayment for bringing her up. She sneered and used a truth-telling talisman to expose their plots.A scumbag had always been pestering her and wanted to get back together. She easily made him “meet his ancestors” every night.Moreover, her cousins had looked down on her, regarding her as a disgrace.Surprisingly, the chairman of a rich family came to her and said, “As long as you can save my daughter, I'll meet all your demands!”Another rich family, who had been at feud with her new family for a long time, also shamelessly came over and said, “As long as you can help us, our family will be very grateful for the kindness of your family!”Later, even the rebellious cousin became her follower, claiming, “She is my only sister! Whoever dares to insult her, I will curse their entire family!”Her new family finally realized that their little poor girl was actually a big shot!“I need to draw spells, get rid of evils, save people and chase that guy! How busy I am!” She said in distress.That guy, “Actually, you don't need to chase me. I'm already yours.”

“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.

A tale of an ordinary senior high school student who becomes a legend by dispensing plagues and controlling vicious virus insects.