MTL - So I Am A Demon Descendent! - Chapter 758 Exhausted

Can she melt the ice in Northendell... and his heart?Arielle is the forgotten princess of the Nieverdell, a country blessed with the warm sun all year round. She was sacrificed by her family to become the prisoner of the Northendell Kingdom because of the sins of her brother, the crown prince.In the kingdom covered by eternal ice, Arielle met King Ronan D. Blackthorn, a man full of mystery.King Ronan was cursed. On a full moon, he would lose his human side and turn into a werewolf. Weirdly enough, ever since Arielle stepped into his life, he could slowly control his animal instincts.But great power came with its own consequences. Arielle and Ronan were faced with a difficult choice:Lift his curse or lose Arielle forever.

Betrayed by those he empowered. Slain at the peak of his reign. Reborn into a world unworthy of him.Tian Mo was once a supreme cultivator, a dark sovereign who ruled with absolute might and terrifying intellect. After a million years of conquest, his closest allies turned on him, stripping him of everything. But fate offered no rest. Reincarnated into modern-day Earth, he awakens in a weak mortal body—yet his memories, ambition, and ruthlessness remain untouched.In this strange new world of technology and fragile peace, Tian Mo finds new prey. With the Primordial Chaos Demonic Evil Physique and the forbidden Divine Sins Emperor Technique, he begins building his empire from the shadows. He manipulates the system, devours the corrupt, and topples the powerful—not out of justice, but vengeance... and the endless hunger for power.There are no heroes in this tale. Only a monster reborn—and the world that will burn beneath his feet.

“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.

Traversing into a Fantasy World, Watson became the youngest son of a run-down baron, ranked eight in the family.