MTL - I am a Good Man - Chapter 62 The married ladies (5)

“You are mine, and I am yours…”

The world cannot be saved by the victory of a single man. This book begins at the point where the climax should occur; the battle between a Demon Queen who is a little strange and a Hero who is a little curious.

However, not only do these two give up the battle, instead, they join hands to directly challenge the complicated social structure which dictates that humans and demons must forever be in conflict.

This is too reckless right? How can this be done? Undoubtedly, you are thinking that.

Come, please turn the page. You are about to read a story that has never been told before; the story of the Hero… and the Demon Queen.

Astra woke up in a forest with no recollection of her precious life.The only thing she knew was that she had a system with two parts; one was a Survival System, and the other was a...Wait, what?!A Breeder System?!

Demons, devils, ghosts and monsters

Plunge the mortals weak in horrors;

Arms of gods and blades of devils,

Shroud the world in untold evils.

Lu Sheng was an ordinary civil servant in the modern world. After waking from a drunken stupor one day, he found himself trapped in a dangerous world where demons, ghosts and supernatural monsters terrorize the land.

In this world, ordinary mortals live in dark fear and helplessness, without any means to fight against the supernatural.

As Lu Sheng struggles desperately for survival, he stumbles upon a game mod he had designed for a mobile phone app in his previous life. It unexpectedly becomes his special ability, which enables him to instantly level up any skill he learns, albeit at a cost.

Thus, Lu Sheng begins his journey, striving for power beyond the reach of a mortal as he treads the way of the Devil…

“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.