I Maximize My Item-dropping Rate - Chapter 801 - : Becoming a Divine Envoy? (1)

The hot catch Prince Eighth, also known as General Invincible on the battlefield, surely is favored by God, not only does he carry a big weight in court but he also has a gorgeous face. However, he is crippled forever after a fierce fight on the battlefield…

On his wedding night, Luo Qianqian cracks a cheeky smile at him, “Your Highness, looks like we are going to be sisters for life, nice meeting you.”

Hearing that, Eighth is like, “WTF, who is going to be your sister?”

He put his hands on the wall to corner Luo Qianqian, “My princess, you think I cannot satisfy you in bed, hmm, don’t be so sure about that.”

- Description from Novelupdates

“Great Saint, why did you follow that thieving baldy to rob the sacred mountain?” “Ah, it’s a long story. Back then, that thieving baldy grabbed my neck and asked me, ‘Are you coming with me to the Western Heaven, or should I send you to the Western Heaven...’” “What about you, Marshal Tianpeng?” “He said he was afraid of getting hungry on the way to the West, so he brought some dry rations along.” “...” This is a story filled with joy, scheming, and relentless teasing all the way through.

Young Jiang Tian has a great aptitude, but because of bloodline problems, he turned into a laughing stock and was suppressed!

At the most frustrating moment in life, fate suddenly reversed!

Relying on the mysterious magic weapon left by his mother, Jiang Tian merged with the blood of the savage dragon to rise strongly and crush all geniuses!

However, as he continued to grow, he found that the people and things around him were not that simple, and even the world was full of huge conspiracies and weird secrets!

- Description from MTL

“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.