MTL - The Humble Spare Tire is Set After the Car Rolls Over - Chapter 182 You are wrong, I refuse to be right, you are ignorant and I am ignorant (35)

Young Lin Yi, betrayed by his beloved, had his core taken away and became a pariah despised by all.At a fortuitous moment, Lin Yi acquired the ancient legacy 'Chaos Sword Body Technique', rising against the odds to embark on a path of revenge!“Those who have wronged me, Lin Yi, shall be repaid a hundredfold!”

Arcane energy weaves the world, and the ninja world is no exception.

The Book of Medivh from Azeroth contains knowledge of two worlds.

For mages, knowledge = power.

Enemy country? war? Tailed beast? Otsutsuki?

In front of the Master, tremble!

Time, for me to control; space, let me roam.

Parallel time and space, self rise, regret unfortunately, self end.

In the name of the new guardian—

Master, open a cross-border portal!

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The boutique “Pirates of Light Swordsman” has been finished, character guarantee~

- Description from novelbuddy

Abandoned at birth in a humble stable, Shirone was raised by commoners—but he was anything but ordinary. Blessed with remarkable insight, he taught himself to read at a young age. A fateful visit to the city introduced him to the wonders of magic, igniting an unshakable dream of becoming a mage. Yet, beneath the city's dazzling facade lurked a ruthless social hierarchy, where power and privilege crushed those who dared to rise above their station. As Shirone uncovers the world's darkest secrets before even coming of age, one question remains—can he defy fate and claim his destiny as a mage in a world determined to keep him down?

“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.