MTL - I’m Not Going to Be Bullied By a Girl - Chapter 7 Hate me up!

Li Jing passed through, into a modern world where all the people cultivated immortals.

Everything here has to rely on the aura of self-cultivation to motivate.

With no relatives, no money in his pocket, and no understanding of how to practice, life is struggling.

Until Li Jing walked into a chicken shop and found that he could see the blood bars of the chickens…

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- Description from novelbuddy

In an era of global awakening of supernatural abilities, Lin Tianming awakens his SSS-level talent. He thought he was about to reach the pinnacle of his life, only to overhear the heartfelt thoughts of his school beauty girlfriend who hates him to the core.[Lin Tianming, you didn't expect me to be reborn, did you? In my previous life, you let me down. In this life, I will not be fooled by your sweet words again!]Having a reborn girlfriend who is merely putting on a show is already troublesome enough, but little does he know, there's more than one person he has wronged. At this moment, each of them is on their way to find him!--------------------------Features elements of Lovecraftian horror, with themes of inner demons, corruption, genetic ascension, mechanical ascension, and psionic ascension emerging in the later stages.

In a world where warriors and mages wield incredible power to battle monsters and conquer dungeons, Leon was just another hopeful teenager awaiting his awakening. At eighteen, he stepped forward to touch the Awakening Orb, dreaming of a legendary class—perhaps a powerful Mage or a fearsome Warrior.But fate had other plans.[You have awakened the F-Rank Class: Necromancer][Your subclass is: Zombie Lord]The world sneered. Necromancy was a taboo, a weak class fit for those who couldn't survive real combat. Zombies? Nothing more than mindless, slow-moving corpses. With no future in sight, Leon was cast aside as a failure.Until he actually used his ability.[Select Your Zombie Type]— Warrior Zombie— Mage Zombie— Healer ZombieUnlike traditional necromancers, Leon’s system let him create and customize zombies—giving them skills, equipping them with weapons, and even allowing them to evolve. With the right combination of magic, strategy, and firepower, his undead army could be unstoppable.Armed with a mana-powered magic gun, Leon fights alongside his growing legion of enhanced zombies, proving that an F-Rank class can become the most terrifying existence in the world.The dungeons will fall.The strong will kneel.And soon… the world will know the name Leon, The Zombie Lord

“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.