MTL - Siheyuan: The Final Winner - Chapter 349 Promoted to the deputy director of logistics, acting as the director of the canteen

I am a female doctor, an obstetrician and gynecologist.

I have only two goals:

To make one person disappear,

To bring a child into this world.

Yet his fragrant medicine-scented presence

Blocks my way!

Vincent Strider was a gun for hire who made a living by killing whoever it was his clients wanted dead. But during one mission, he died in a fierce gunfight. However, death was not the end for him. Vincent found himself reincarnated in another world, facing a floating interface that flickered before his eyes.[Synchronizing Host!][Military System initializing.]Vincent found out that in this system he received, he can summon soldiers, tanks, aircrafts, and even warships! This is going to be exhilarating.

[Host: Female][Daily Sign-In System: Rewards Guaranteed!][Miss a day? No problem—your monthly bonus will be even bigger!]In the mysterious world of Elarion, danger hides behind beauty, our protagonist goes to academy but in mid way she get attacked and another world soul come to take her place, but because of soul own system mistake the soul died and our protagonist got system,she has realize she will die and she did not wanted that, with her system she although live but later another more extreme things happen to her, now she cant enter her own world for years, gods decided to seal it but reason nobody in Elarion know,But there's one problem: our protagonist has the lowest magical talent of all.Armed only with her wits, determination, and a mysterious Sign-In System that grants her daily rewards, can she defy fate, rise through the ranks, and uncover the secrets buried deep within Gorvanna?but there is a twist, she has attracted obsessive's vampires now she had yandere Vampire woman's who are obsessed with her,Warning (her first love will appear after chap 35+)

“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.