MTL - People In Zeta: Just Becoming a Saiga Was Broadcast Live By Zhou Jie - Chapter 166

He just became the newly-crowned movie emperor when he died a tragic (actually, very stupid) death. On his way to cross the NaiHe bridge, he managed to evade Meng Po and not drink her soup. Thus keeping the memories of the life that he just had.But he would never have imagined that he would be reincarnated hundreds of thousands of years later. In the Interstellar era! If it happened to other guys, they would definitely want to be a mecha warrior. Don't most men dream of that at least once in their life? But sadly, that's not for him.There's only one goal in his mind - to be the number one star in the Interstellar era.With the knowledge and skills he got from his past life, he would definitely achieve it.But who was this annoying person who kept on pestering him?A certain prince smiled in a scary and crazy way: Cook food for me or else die.= a few months later =A certain prince leaned over and moved his face closer: I don't need food, I could just eat you.A bad tempered yandere gong X a reincarnated movie emperor shou*NaiHe bridge - a bridge that souls crossed to enter reincarnation**Meng Po - the lady on the Naihe bridge who gives out soup that lets the souls forget their memories, thus entering the cycle of reincarnation in a clean slate.

The Immortal stroked the top of my head, and as my hair was tied up, I was bestowed with eternal life.IBM z15, 190 CPUs, 40T of memory, 12.2 billion transistorsArriving in the Cultivation World with a portable data center space, a tale of cultivation aided by the IBM z15.All for the sake of immortality!

“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.