MTL - Instructing the Archaeological Team, Was Actually Regarded As a Tomb Robber - Chapter 443 retreat

Introduction

In the ten years since the Great Chu, strange things have happened everywhere.

When he woke up, Zhou An became a yamen agent.

Crisis is always there, but fortunately Zhou An brought a small game made in his previous life.

As long as the life-exploding skills are used, the skills can undergo qualitative changes and become magical skills.

Knife skills – open the sky with one knife.

Turn the pot over – the Kingdom of God in the pot.

Swimming – making waves.

Several years later, Zhou An said that all he knew were common abilities in life.

The crowd was furious.

“You’re talking nonsense, I saw you split the sky with a knife!”

“You’re lying. I saw with my own eyes that you put a ten-foot-tall weirdo into a pot and beat it to death!”

“You said you can swim, but the huge waves have nothing to do with swimming!”

Facing the angry crowd, Zhou An sighed and took out a small sword as wide as his palm.

“I have learned a lot about blacksmithing recently, and I will show you how to defeat all magic with one sword.”

- Description from novelbuddy

She, a renowned assassin of the 21st century, actually crossed over to become Su Manor’s most useless good-for-nothing Fourth Miss.

He, Jin Empire’s imperial highness, was an emotionless overbearing demonic tyrant with unrivaled talent.

Everyone knew that she was idiotic and good-for-nothing and bullied her as they pleased. But only he, the overbearing tyrant with the discerning eye, wouldn’t let go of her even if his life depended on it.

For the time being, let’s just see how the stubborn versus stubborn clash and play out in this good show of the chaser and the chased.

The world’s largest VRMMO, Conviction, was almost like a second world for humanity. It had integrated itself into the real world’s economy, with both corporations and individuals seeking their fortunes through the game.

In this game, Nie Yan prided himself in his Level 180 Thief. He could barely be considered among the top experts in the game. Though, that was the only thing he could take pride in. He was penniless and unable to advance in life; a situation he was forced into by the enemy of his father. If it weren’t for the little money he made by selling off items in Conviction, he would’ve barely been able to eat. In the end, he chose to settle his matters once and for all. He assassinated his father’s enemy. He lay dying shortly after being shot in the pursuit.

However, that wasn’t the end of his story. Instead, he awoke moments later to find that he had reincarnated into his past self. Armed with his experience and knowledge of future events, he sets out to live his life anew.

“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.