MTL - Martial God - v3 Chapter 81 camouflage

From [Running], to the physics-defying [Godspeed].From [Aiming], to the causality-transcending [Bullseye].From [Health Cultivation], to the everlasting [Immortality] among men.From [Fitness], to the flesh-ascending [Turning into a Dragon].Having been reborn, Xue Jing, after gaining a panel that infinitely enhances skills, set a minor goal for himself.In this dangerous world filled with martial artists, Blessed Ones, and Transformed People, he aimed to rise above all merely with his mortal flesh and blood—to become the supreme deity among men.

Ye Qingli is the daughter of an Imperial Businessman’s first wife, wealthy and overbearing. But because of her mother’s early funeral, she suffered utter oppression and abuse under the hands of her stepmother. On the eve of her marriage, she died tragically in the hands of her stepsister and her own fiance!

He is an overbearing, tyrannical, cold-hearted, demonic king. Grim and ruthless, only restrained by his wife and son!

Once reborn, the weak daughter transfigured into a Divine Genius Healer. There was no intersection between the two people, yet they were bestowed a paper of marriage!

Subdue and kill the Seven Wives?

Very well. This daughter also wants to kill her evil, wicked stepmother and stepsisters! Do you still dare marry me?

However, the Handsome Prince and the Divine Genius Doctor, how do you get them together?

Ye Qingli touched her chin: “So many people, which one do I choose?”

A furious royal highness: “Herald, continue dispatching orders. Whichever male creature dares get within three feet of the royal consort, kill him immediately!

- Description from Novelupdates

He defied the heavens once, he returns to do it again.In a past life, he was Xie Wuchen, the heretic god of cultivation. A rebel who shattered divine law, betrayed the celestial order, and vanished in a blaze of infamy.Now, he is Lan—a crippled prince in a world ruled by mana and noble bloodlines. His mana core is broken. His name is a joke. His existence, forgotten.Until the rain falls.And something awakens:[Forbidden Arts Synchronization: Complete][Elapsed Time: 16 years, 10 months, 15 days][Memory Restoration in Progress…]The soul of Heaven’s greatest traitor has returned with a hunger far greater than revenge.And he plans to do more than ascend the magical hierarchy. He will annihilate it.This time, he will forge an empire—not of nobles or spellcasters, but something this new world have never known—Cultivators, trained in arts banned by gods and feared by men.Those who mocked him will kneel.Those who ruled by birthright will burn.And the heavens, once again, will tremble.Magic rules this world.But cultivation will conquer it.

“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.