MTL - The Heroine’s Force Value Explodes - Chapter 39

One of the few self-cultivator who exist in this modern world; due to an unfortunate event, completely destroyed his body in an explosion. Using all his effort to save his primordial spirit, he ended up in an strange magical world and had to start all over again. From a fallen aristocrat to the Warlord of Chaos, this can no longer be summarise as legendary; this is the life of the God of War.

- Description from Novelupdates

-The well-known characters of your favourite series get into orgy-In a world where anime universes collide, an omnipotent, perverted god known as The Great Weeb Overlord grows bored of endless power fantasies and shonen battles. Instead of another tournament arc, he decides to host the ultimate crossover event—one fueled by raw passion, unfiltered ecchi energy, and the deepest desires of fandom itself.When Kazuya, an average, luckless otaku, is inexplicably summoned as the “Chosen One” to oversee this legendary gathering of flesh, he finds himself surrounded by the most iconic waifus and husbandos of all time—Asuka, Rem, Bulma, Zero Two, Hinata, Erza, Akeno, Saber, Makima, and many more. Even some of the most unexpected faces (yes, even from wholesome anime) are caught in the gravitational pull of this sinful singularity.As the Ultimate Fan Service begins, Kazuya must navigate the chaotic pleasure-fest while avoiding jealous yanderes, tsundere slap-fests, and the terrifying wrath of overpowered shonen protagonists who refuse to share the spotlight. But with reality itself warping under the influence of peak degeneracy, Kazuya soon realizes there may be no escape… and worse—he might actually enjoy it.Will he survive this NSFW isekai experience? Or will he be consumed by the horny abyss?One thing’s for sure—this is not your average anime crossover.

“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.

I, Zhang San, am absolutely a good person!I swear by the eight generations of my ancestors!What!? My ancestral grave just exploded!?