MTL - The New Order of Azeroth - v2 Chapter 640 1 way north

Michael, an ordinary and average guy, suddenly finds himself in a dangerous fantasy cultivation world after being randomly chosen in a multiversal lottery. Armed with a wish system that may taunt him some times, grants him one wish every week, Michael has to survive in this harsh world of cultivators, monsters, and mysterious powers. However, the system has strict rules—he can’t wish for direct power.However average Michael was, he loved his family on Earth and that's why his main goal is to return to Earth. To do that, he must climb to the highest realm of cultivation, all while avoiding greedy enemies and dangerous beasts. With each wish, Michael gets closer to his goal, but the challenges only grow tougher as the world around him becomes more dangerous.

At a low point in his life, Xia Ruofei discovered that a scroll that was passed down in his family had a hidden secret: it contained its own independent world.

In the space, there was a spiritual pond that enhanced the growth of plants. There were mysterious spiritual flowers that could cure illnesses. Time in the independent world flowed at a pace ten times that of the outside world. Everything he planted there was of supreme grade and grew at a rapid pace. Everything he raised gained sentience.

From that day forth, Xia Ruofei began a different, brilliant life of planting succulent plants and vegetables, raising animals and flirting with beauties.

When I came to, I woke up as fully loaded with death flags Villainess.

I finally got reborn with a healthy body, so I will live in happiness!

First, I’m thinking of improving my relationship with the family to systematically crush the death flags.

Called the Saint of Meat, Shrine Maiden, Savior, and even Goddess, her titles keep pointlessly increasing!

“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.