MTL - Every World Seems Not Quite Right (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 135 Modern President Wen 2

Evon Wang a man from Earth died and transmigrated into a world filled with woman of different races.He got the Eyes of Fate and helped all the women to achieve their dreams.Witness the journey of Evon in the world of Magical Women!Warning: Read this with your own risk. Although there's action, adventure and magic, it was also filled with 18+ content.

Full NTR*[Warning: This story is strictly 18+ and contains extreme NTR, explicit sex, mind-breaking corruption, and brutal violence. It is not for the faint of heart or those seeking a heroic journey. This is a tale of domination, destruction, and absolute fear. Only mature audiences who can handle dark, merciless storytelling should proceed. Read at your own risk.]***This story is a dark and ruthless descent into a world where power, manipulation, and betrayal reign supreme. A tale of absolute dominance, it follows a cunning and brutal protagonist who uses seduction, deception, and raw strength to corrupt, control, and destroy. No one is safe—wives, saintesses, and proud heroines fall, their purity tainted, their loyalty shattered. Betrayal is inevitable, and those who stand in the way meet gruesome, indescribable ends.**Brutal violence as Jin leaves a trail of broken heroes, shattered empires, and subjugated goddesses in his wake.

My name is Yan, and since I was a child, I’ve been able to see some strange things.For example—In elementary school, our new neighbor Aunt Tan had a pair of all-around genius twins, who were like the “precious little geniuses” with halos above their heads. They could recite the English-Chinese dictionary backwards at three, master both Chinese and Western musical instruments by five, and hack into a country’s database by seven…Growing up next to such prodigies, my life was inhumane, tragic, and constantly subjected to comparisons.To escape the comparisons with these “other people’s children,” I specifically applied to a private boarding school for middle school.On my first day, my deskmate was a small, thin girl with bangs, wearing an old uniform, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s.Three months later, she woke up from a nap with a “rebirth” halo above her head.She moved effortlessly among the cold academic genius, the wolf-like school bully, the fierce boss, and the gentle childhood friend, leaving me, a lonely onlooker, utterly amazed.By university, I thought I had finally escaped this abnormal world.But as soon as I stepped into my dorm room, my footsteps froze.My roommates each had halos like “ancient times to modern,” “post-apocalyptic superhuman,” “will die if not spending money,” and “ghost king revival.”I clutched my little blanket and applied to the counselor for a room change, but to no avail.Over time, I gradually got used to it. “Handover systems,” “management systems,” “book transmigration,” “infinite worlds,” “three-and-a-half-year-olds,” “interstellar live streams,” “red envelope groups”…The types of halos kept increasing, and I was able to calmly ignore all of it, focusing on my own life.Every morning, I skillfully helped my “ancient to modern” roommate, who was being blacklisted online, dodge campus paparazzi and secure seats for class.At noon, I assisted my tycoon roommate in distributing today’s haul of luxury skincare and designer bags, tasting the city’s top private chef’s custom lunchbox, and exclaiming with emotion, “Darling, can I really accept these?”In the evening, I enjoyed the flowers and plants cultivated by my superhuman roommate on the balcony, tasting a mutated cherry tomato and commenting, “I feel refreshed and purified.”Late at night, when my ghost king roommate quietly climbed back through the window, I peeked out to ask, “You’re back a bit late today, didn’t bring anything back, did you?”My name is Yan, and I am not the protagonist of this world.

When the night came, there was a twittering sound in his ears, and the monster in the shadows began to move restlessly. Jason’s hungry stomach began to roar, and he couldn’t help swallow his saliva. Hunger was the best spur.