MTL - The Pirate Princess Becomes King - Chapter 88 capital of flowers

Shi Jin was a desperate woman and just a pretty face in her past life. She was swapped at birth and brought up in a rich family, only to eventually die a horrible death.

This is the story of a crazy lich who possesses an internal game system and brings catastrophe to the entire world.

“Let’s look at the daily quests today… it’s the damned choose one-of-two-options-type again. Destroy a town with a population of 30,000 people or above; reward: 10,000 evil points. Steal lollipops from 3 children; reward: 1 evil point. If neither of the quests is completed, then 2 points will be deducted.”

“Tsk! You think I’m stupid? If I really destroyed a town, a crusade of Epic-ranked Holy Knights would definitely come hunting me down. Even if I earned the points, there wouldn’t be any life left in me to spend them. I better just go be a kindly lollipop bandit.”

I’ve already had enough of being a notorious lich. Who says that a lich can’t be a good person? I’m definitely going to beat this damned system and be an upright and dignified good man.

- Description from novelupdates

In the foreign world, the martial artists dominate the world and the sword of the emperor controls the fate of hundreds of millions of lives! Long Yu, the number one killer on Earth, after dying, takes rebirth in this new world in an aristocratic family of martial artists but faces rejection because he is unable to practice martial arts.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.