MTL - The Last Slag - Chapter 113 Eighth residue (ten)

At eighteen years old, Lin Qingyu was married as part of a Chong Xi into the Nan’an Hou Mansion, becoming the ill Lu Wancheng’s male wife.

On the eve of their wedding, Young Master Hou lay lazily on the bed and said, “Beauty, to be honest, I really don’t want to engage in domestic struggles. I just want to drift along, eat and wait to die. I want to be a salted fish.”

A year later, Young Master Hou became gravely ill. He took Lin Qingyu’s hand and sighed, “Wife, I’m going to die, but I think I can continue to transmigrate. In order for you to properly recognize me in the future, let us set a secret code.”

After the death of Young Master Hou, Lin Qingyu was prepared to stay a widow all his life. Unexpectedly, after only half a year, the great general who had rendered outstanding military service, actually came to propose marriage.

Lin Qingyu would rather die. But the general said but one statement, “If odd, change; if even, remain the same?”

Lin Qingyu: “…I will marry you.”

After two years, the general died in battle. Before Lin Qingyu even had time to grieve, he was recruited into the palace by the Emperor.

The emperor complained aggrievedly, “Baobei, this time I have became the Emperor. My salted fish dreams have been completely shattered…”

Lin Qingyu knew that although his husband was a bag of lazybones, no one was his equal when it came to conspiracy and schemes.

He rubbed the Emperor’s head. “Don’t think about it. Get started on those reports. Behave yourself.”

The ancient empire was on its last legs, the nascent federation echoed with the roar of steam, slumbering gods gradually awoke, and colossal beasts that vanished in the primordial era were slowly emerging.When Laine arrived in another world, a magical profession panel awakened within him as well.Laine believed that if a person's life could keep growing stronger, one day they would certainly be able to control their own destiny and stand shoulder to shoulder with the gods!

From an apocalyptic world, Xu Feng transmigrates into a parallel world with a third gender. The heavens took pity on the 19-year-old who died as he awakened his ability in his original world, so he started a new life as a ger.What is a ger? The third gender, a man who can impregnate women and be impregnated by men.There were even more surprises waiting for Xu Feng. He not only awakened a wood ability from his previous world, he was also met with a contract marriage he couldn’t refuse in the new world.“Carry my son’s child, and I’ll make sure you live comfortably for the rest of your life.”“Whether you can birth a son for me or not, I don’t care. Just don’t get in my way, and I’ll make sure you want for nothing.”Xu Feng looked at his “mother-in-law,” then back at his “playboy” of a “husband” before looking toward the fertile fields and vast mountains.A peaceful farming life as a landlord with a spoiled young master was better than living life in the apocalypse. But Xu Feng was transported to a world with cultivation, demon beasts, and hidden secrets, a simple farming life might be too much to ask for.—[Cultivation, Farming, Multiple partners/Throuple, BL, R-18, Child, HE]

“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.