MTL - The Road Home - Chapter 5 Wandering People (2)

Humanity has endured for millions of years, but recorded history only spans a mere four thousand years. During that unrecorded deep-sea age, what exactly were we doing?Countless indescribable beings ruled the universe, and our powerful ancestors preserved the fire of human civilization under their threat.Then they disappeared, and we rose.Now, they are coming back, mysterious psychic powers are awakening, the flame of human civilization is slowly extinguishing, and no kings are in sight...Chen Ke opens his eyes to see a world full of ruins and himself on the brink of death.The moment his heart was pierced by the Blasphemous Dagger, he became a dying man without a heart.Able to survive only 2 hours...

I found myself possessing the body of a young master who everyone was eager to kill. I’m invincible, so let them try to kill me. It’s only for one second, though.

Dreaming back in the middle of the night, Wen Mingtang saw the ending of the beauty who pampered the golden house;

After waking up from the dream, Wen Mingtang changed his core and decided to take a down-to-earth path…

****

At the end of last year, the evaluation forms for personnel changes in various ministries in the capital came out, and the public chef of Dali Temple topped the list with a record of changing 12 cooks in half a year.

Since then, the public chef of Dali Temple has become famous in the first battle, and has become a nightmare for cooks all over the capital.

…

On this day, a new chef came to the public kitchen of Dali Temple who had been vacant for more than half a month…

- 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.