MTL - Night Ranger - Chapter 12 Double knife mask

Sangyan turned into a widow known to bring misfortune to her husband. Despised by her in-laws and disdained by her own family, she volunteered to retire to a remote estate to live out her days. At this moment, she caught the eye of a tyrannical emperor with a strange illness - being near a woman caused him unbearable itching and relentless vomiting.Hence, the 26-year-old emperor had never favored any of his consorts, let alone sired any heirs. The imperial harem constantly pressured him for offspring. The common people also yearned for a royal heir. When they learned that the tyrant held affection for Sangyan, the widow with the ill-fated destiny, the entire nation opposed their union.Eventually, the entire country pleaded with Sangyan to bear children for the sickly and tyrannical emperor...Beauty widow with a deadly fate VS Emperor with allergy to women

Yu Qiu once thought that he could rely on his shixiong forever, but when he was captured by the Shadow Demon, he watched helplessly as his shixiong stepped into the bride room together with a woman.

He knew he was one foot in the grave, powerless to reverse the situation.

After reincarnating, how could he walk the path of seal cultivation again?

Rebel? Vengeance? Revenge? Depend on a loyal dog who would be his shield?

That was too low for him!!!

He was going to:

Break up that haze in front of his eyes and turn it into tall mountains.

No longer depend on anyone, but rely on his own strength for everything.

Make every cultivator never say the words “seal cultivation is only supplementary” ever again.

Become the strongest person in the world.

Show that he will become a Daozhang.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.

A world where people awakened abilities called Skills to those who come of age. The protagonist, Awakened with three godly cheat skills, does he uses them and rise to an existence called a hero or becomes a person who only cares about his own life.