MTL - The Monk That Wanted To Renounce Asceticism - Chapter 1467 Monk in a nuclear explosion

The tale of Oliver.
An orphan boy from a Mine, in 19th century Europe, filled with Magic.

She was deceived into marriage, she was used as a nanny for free, and finally she was beaten to death by her adoptive mother in front of her adoptive father’s bed. Shen Mianmian’s miserable life came to an end.

When he opened his eyes, he turned back to the age of fifteen. Shen Mianmian vowed to get rid of the fate of his past life and take care of his vicious cousin and adoptive mother, but he was accidentally brilliant.

The third-to-last scumbag suddenly counterattacked and became the place that the famous universities competed for. The teachers and students of the school were in an uproar…

Others are busy studying, Shen Mianmian is busy doing small business to make money…

Others were preparing for the college entrance examination, but Shen Mianmian bought the two most famous haunted houses in Kyoto in one go… She became an outlier in the eyes of everyone, laughing at her if she bought it with life, but not necessarily with life.

Others were busy looking for jobs after graduation, but the haunted house purchased by Shen Mianmian was expropriated by the government and received a considerable amount of demolition money.

The person who once laughed at her couldn’t help but slapped herself… I asked around where there were still haunted houses for sale.

Shen Mianmian, who originally had to borrow all the tuition fees, took the demolition funds and used the advantages of rebirth to buy a suitable location, built a group rental building, and transformed himself into a fat and oily charter woman in Kyoto…

One day, Shen Mianmian was dragged to the Civil Affairs Bureau just after collecting the rent while carrying a bag of keys.

“Shen Mianmian, what you owe me should be repaid.”

- 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.

The once greatest Saint underneath the heavens has been reborn after one hundred years. He cultivates with mighty skills, and he fights to once again reach the top of the world!

Don’t compete with me when it comes to concocting pills, 100% effectiveness means nothing to me.

Don’t compete with me when it comes to cultivation speed, I won’t be responsible when you die from embarrassment.

Don’t compete with me when it comes to experience, as I’m an ancient ancestor.

The existence of Jiang Chen is destined to ridicule thousands of geniuses…