MTL - The Boss Wears a Book To a Woman - Chapter 222 baby got it wrong

After everyone reaches the age, they can open their own blessed land.

Blessed land, bestowed by the will of heaven and earth.

In the blessed land, Taoist soldiers can be cultivated, all things can be cultivated, and the supreme dynasty can also be built.

Myriad worlds are broken into countless fragments, forming countless star gates, there are three kingdoms, there are rivers and lakes, there are immortals and gods, and there are monsters.

In the star gate, there are martial arts from the world of martial arts, fairy arts from the world of celestial beings, and technological things beyond reality.

Mei Changge accidentally turned on his own point adding system, and found that it can be added not only to himself, but also to his own buildings.

Dilapidated village +10086=eternal heaven!

Black soil+10010=nine days of resting soil!

Bow and arrow tower +9527 = gods and magic crossbow!

- Description from novelbuddy

Ye Chen transmigrated to a fantasy world by chance. He was well-aware of how dangerous this world was, so he kept a low profile and quietly cultivated in Xuantian Holy Land. He tried his best not to get involved in any affairs for fear of getting caught up in any vendetta.

If he encountered problems that he could not run away from, he would ensure that he annihilated all his opponents as swiftly as possible.

He showed no regrets for staying aloof and no remorse for killing his enemies.

Hundreds and thousands of years later, Ye Chen’s disciples were domineering existences in the world, and their influences spread far and wide. On the other hand, Ye Chen was steadfast to his principle of not drawing any attention to himself.

…

One day, the Heavenly Path experienced significant changes, and all the demons and gods throughout history attacked Ye Chen simultaneously. Ye Chen was forced to defend himself.

He drew out his sword and easily eradicated all the demons and gods, resulting in the collapse of the Heavenly Path.

Ye Chen blinked his eyes in disbelief and said, “Was that all?”

“A Virtual Dream Device? What the heck is this?”“Is it used for daydreaming? Nope, not interested.”“What? It could simulate reality at a hundred percent? I could live out half a year in one night's time and bring in a replicate of a real person?Hmm, pretty sweet I must say.”“I'll be the only one left in the world while the others are all gone in the first dream?”“Uhm, I'll like to bring in a female celeb at the pinnacle of her glamor, could I?”

“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.