MTL - The Apocalyptic Master of Synthesis - Chapter 617 Powerful and Strange Natural Disasters (Subscription required)

A scientist, Duan Yixin, transmigrated into another world. She possessed the body of a sixteen-year-old girl but had not inherited any of her memories. With a broken marriage engagement and no money in her hand, she only wants to earn money peacefully. It's a pity that fate always plays tricks on people.When she thought she could finally live peacefully, she discovered that this world was not as simple as she thought. The man she rescued was the notorious ruthless general, and the woman who stole her ex-fiancé was the female protagonist of this world.She looked up at the sky and asked, “God, are you kidding me?”A few years later, on their wedding night, she stared at him and said seriously, “General, I'm not your white moonlight.”The man lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “Mhm, you are not my white moonlight, you are my life.”

Nikolai gets bitten by a vampire and a werewolf on the same night. Their bites cause his hidden blood to awaken as the first hybrid. He grows stronger by devouring the blood of his enemies and lacks the weaknesses of both races.Despite this, he lives a normal life during the day. While at night, he explores a dark, hidden life, working for a spoilt princess and helping his obsessive friend. One is a vampire—the other leads a werewolf mafia group.Lost in this strange world, he finds help from Eliza, the strange pendant his mother created before she died. This helps him realise the world isn’t what he thought as he faces constant threats and danger from those who despise him.In this new world, his growth is rapid, and with endless possibilities, Nikolai fights for his life and to protect what he finds important while rising to the top.

“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.

I possessed a reliant villain who was in debt and clinging to the heroines.“Why did I give all these good things to others?”From now on, I will solely focus on my own growth.After stopping these villainous acts,the heroines’ reactions were strange.