MTL - The King of The Worlds - v7 Chapter 80 1 Sword Kill

What is my existence? What am I?Since his birth, Aldrian Aster had never been an ordinary human. One day, a screen appeared in his sight with a message:I’m tied to the universe.I’m tied to nature.All of this is my own karma.Why I am different is also my destiny.My domain encompasses all things.There is nothing that can escape my view.There is nothing that can escape my sense.There is nothing that can escape my will.As he read these words, Aldrian understood that this was part of his destiny.Abnormal cultivation?Rapid comprehension?Mastering everything?Creating techniques effortlessly?This was his journey towards discovering his 'true' self.

For three years, Finn Taylor is utterly humiliated. He has endured everything from physical beatings to verbal abuse. For three long years, he has gone by only one identity—the useless matrilocal son-in-law of the Larson family. But this life as he knows it is about to be turned upside-down as he reclaims his position as the head of Peregrine Hall.

Reborn in 1992, he supported the college student wife Ben and Shuo to study in a row, but she was not allowed to* after ten years of marriage, and she was scolded for peeking when she was washing her hair!

“You’re my wife, what’s up with you washing your hair!?”

“Sneak peek?! You gave me that stealing word!”

“divorce!”

He Hongchang slammed the door into anger and slammed away, but he plunged into the mouth of the hurricane where pigs can take off, and became a trend-setter of the times!

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.