MTL - Gou Became a Martial Saint In Another World - Chapter 161 Now that you're here, why leave? (!)

Lin Nuannuan never expected to transmigrate from a simple bath!

She could handle that, but why did she transmigrate into a world of Beastmen?

There are handsome Beastmen draped in animal hide everywhere. And all of them have their long legs exposed!

What? The tiger and white wolf wants to marry me!? NO! NO! NO!

Nothing good comes from a love that transcends species. Give up!

After opening the ancient well in his backyard, Li Yin’s life has changed since then!

Sixth Prince Li Yin? 21st century otaku Li Yin? He can travel freely between the two worlds, what kind of life should he choose?

Harem? Hegemony? trickery? Is that all?

No! With the advantages of modern technology, he wants to build his fiefdom into the economic center of the world, and the world map will be filled with his colonies…

PS: This is written about the Tang Dynasty, but it is a parallel time and space. There is no need for historical burdens, and it will be a little different from the real Tang Dynasty. Please don’t be serious about the textual research party, because some small details like titles are annoying. This is not what I wanted, thank you!

This is a heinous story about a heinous person.Not to mention his other achievements: just after graduating from university, he had two listed companies on the NASDAQ. No, he recently acquired another listed company, and is planning to acquire another.Behind him, a whole host of investment banks are chasing after him. When will your website go public?Investors also say that a website like this must be subject to public scrutiny.The young boss is back in his carefree youth. This year is a springtime year, coinciding with an old man writing poems by the South China Sea.

“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.