MTL - Unprecedented Pill Refiner: Entitled Ninth Young Lady (The Indomitable Master of Elixirs) - Chapter 1269 Crusade (3)

After transmigration, Qiao Sang found herself dressed as a junior high school student.Then came an exam.But wait, what kind of exam is it???“What is the final evolutionary form of stinky loach called?”“What are the planets where humans have migrated.”She is totally confused.Welcome to the world of beasts!

[ Warning: Mature content R-18 ]______________________________[Ding! Matching is successful, the host obtains the sponsor system and starts the unlimited money mode.][Ding! Please turn the bound female protagonist into your own simp. If the counterattack is successful, you will be rewarded with enhanced attribute points.]The system is possessed, and the loser's road to counterattack begins...______________________________[Things to be noted]1. From the title, you should've guessed it already but let me tell you the story will be filled with many sexual adventures. So... you are welcome to enjoy them.....2. However... don't expect MC to have sexual relations with every woman he meets. I'll be focusing on the story, and would 'Try' not to blindly throw sex scenes left and right.Important Note: If you enjoy the story then don't forget tovote your GTs, Power stones and also if you can, send some GIFTS too. This poor soul would appreciate it.Happy reading~

Her sister steal her lover

She thought it was a dream

after rolling and waking

Nightmare Reality

Her loved ones, her love, her life

They were all trapped in that big fire

burned to ashes

“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.