MTL - My Master Disconnected Yet Again - Chapter 633 Fast Wear System

Facing a meteor, I wished for a stable and respectable job and money to spend, only to become the lucky one physically carried away by the meteor.After drifting through chaos, I was reborn as Nezha.The good news is all my wishes came true, the bad news is the world is not right.Nezha, carrying fragments of the Creation Jade Slip and Chaos Pearl, doesn't want to follow the old path of becoming a tool for Taiyi to avert disasters, so he apprentices under Nuwa.What do you mean I killed Ao Bing? I don't know Ao Bing, you should ask someone else.What do you mean Yin Shou is tyrannical, he is just an enthusiast of cultivation.Stone Ji is a spirit born from rocks, naturally, she matches my expertise in mending the sky, so let her be my good friend (tool).Why do you say Zhao Gongming looks simple-minded? I think he looks very much like my brother-in-law.Let’s see how Nezha securely cultivates in the prehistoric world, defying fate and ascending the Great Dao.

This is the story where Urahara Kisuke died after Nel failed to save him inside Askin’s Gift Ball Delux and reincarnated in the world of DxD.

I am not sure if I can capture Urahara’s character properly so I apologize in advance if you are not satisfied.

Also, English is not my native language.

I don’t own any of the characters from the canon.

“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.

In the twenty-ninth year of the First Emperor, Bo Langsha was attacked.

When Ying Zheng merged the memories of the 21st century history doctor, looked at the mighty mountains and rivers in front of him, and said to himself, “In this life, my Daqin can’t die!”

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