MTL - The Silly Alchemist - Chapter 570 Cultivation (2)

Su Shanshan died a violent death eight years into the apocalypse but somehow, she opened her eyes to find herself reborn. Time had turned back to the day before the apocalypse.

Having the chance to start over filled her with hope. Having lived through the bloody violence of the apocalypse, she now had the skills and knowledge to survive and thrive in the end times. She would repay the man who gave his life trying to save her even though she broke his heart.

The big brother whom she had reviled in her previous life. This time, she would take a chance on love.

As if blessed by the heavens, she had unexpectedly been given a spatial superpower, with which she hoarded resources that would sustain her in the apocalypse.

When the world changed in an instant on Doomsday, and hordes of flesh-eating zombies roamed the place, she set off on a dangerous journey to find him, determined to alter the course of events that unfolded and change what happened in the past.

Characters: Su Shanshan (beautiful, cold, proficient at martial arts), Gu Jincheng (rich, brilliant, awkward in affairs of the heart)

Xiao Ze, who was dedicated to the people and vowed to become a generation of Ming Jun, accidentally fell on a little lady.
The little lady was born beautiful and lovable.
So Xiao Ze accepted his life and got the name of fear.

ps:
①The male protagonist has no concubine, and he is dedicated to serving the country.

- 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.

When he first crossed over, Chen Liguo did not want to accept it.