MTL - The Rebirth of the Financial Hegemon - v3 Chapter 42 helicopter

After being reborn and living for 30 years, I realized that my life was actually a romance fantasy novel?…Where are you looking?Becoming a wizard’s s*ave, living as an experiment subject, then as an assassin, from a mercenary to a soldier, and finally becoming a knight.This is the story of a man whose life spans across different genres by himself.

Veteran programmer Li Mu was unfortunately kicked by fate into the year 2001, right before university entrance examinations. He happily shook his butt, got up, and inevitably stepped onto the road of being spectacular.

As a person re-living his life Li Mu had his own goals and ambitions. Earning money was just the primary stage of becoming amazing.

As for getting into the weekly publication of Times Magazine, becoming a master in the IT industry, and aiming for being on the Forbes Magazine list, they could all only be considered as his life’s instermediate stage.

As for what he considered the highest realm of being a phenomenal, Li Mu felt like there were the following three points:

• Becoming a rich man’s idol.

• Becoming a celebrity’s godfather.

• Becoming an extraordinary person’s father.

- Description from Novelupdates

He Gui can freely travel between reality and the parallel world in 1985.

The disappearing Chinese rhino appeared.

Spotted soft-shelled turtle and white dolphin appeared again.

The extinct local pigs are on the table again.

He Gui: I am as stable as an old dog in the real world, but I attack everywhere in the parallel world. PS: During the new book period, there are two updates every day, 8 in the morning and 6 in the evening. Mengxin asks for recommendation, collection, investment.

- 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.