MTL - God Emperor - Chapter 3918 encounter strange beast

When Shen Yu woke up, he had accidentally gone into a ridiculous dog-blood novel.

In the novel, he is a poor cannon fodder character:

– dead father and mother

– his fiancée had run away

– he is disabled (in a wheelchair)

– he lives a lonely life in a 20,000-square foot mansion.

Later, in order to compete for the female lead, he died under the opposition.

In order to save his life, Shen Yu had to stay as far away as possible from the leading and supporting roles and concentrate on enjoying the luxury life.

As a result, one day, the servant brought a 10-year-old villain with bruised eyes: “Sir, this is the orphan of Tang’s family.”

Shen Yu: “…”

Shen Yu decided to adopt the small villains and change his fate.

Ten Years Later.

The villain pushed Shen Yu to the corner: “Who is that woman?”

Shen Yu: “… Who do you say?”

The villain: “The woman who seduced you at last night’s banquet!”

Shen Yu: “…”

The villain: “Hehe, I’m going to kill her.”

Shen Yu: “My son… That’s the female lead you forgot by the lake…”

While they mine for gold, I dig graves.While they use healing ointment, I munch on graveyard grass.While they take Mana Potions, I light incense and candles.While they meditate to recover, I rest in a coffin,While they attack with magic, I retaliate by tossing paper money....Let's see how a skeleton turns the tables in an online game, stirring up chaos to become the ultimate boss!

One moment, Lucas closed his eyes to sleep. The next, he opened them to find himself not in his bedroom, but in a courtroom.Even more startling, he was in a different body.Lucas was confused, but there was no time to dwell on it.Why?Because....“Your Honour, please sentence him to death!”the prosecutor demanded, looking directly at Lucas, who was seated on the judge's bench.'It seems I have become a judge.' Lucas realized.

“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.