MTL - The Sage Who Transcended Samsara - v2 Chapter 21 Catching up separately (1050 votes plus more)

Even in the Interstellar universe, a shut-in is a shut-in. Wu Zimo, a bachelor tech nerd, said that there was no pressure. As long as there was a network and a computer, nothing would be a problem!

As for the male god, this type of mythical creature should be sitting on a pedestal with a noble and cool expression, accepting the worship of believers day and night.

A certain shut-in: So, Marshal, we should have been running about on the road of bachelorhood all this time. Would you say that’s correct?

Marshal: ……ah! Ah!

Beware of mines: Sentinel/ guide, two orientations, protagonist shou, mutual pampering, 1v1

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Hacker God Mo is the Number 1 Hacker from 21st Century. Reborn in interstellar, he became an ancient man from thousands of years ago. His ambition is to shine the name of GOD Mo in interstellar era.

As for his Male God. He is a famous Marshal who sits in the top platform of Gods. A noble and cold person.

To protect his little chrysanthemum. Wu ZiMo decided to pretend to be a ordinary person. Let’s see how long can Wu ZiMo can protect his chrysanthemum… I mean his identity as a ordinary person.

- Description from Novelupdates

Ethan's head throbbed violently as he opened his eyes, his vision hazy and unfocused. A dull ringing filled his ears, drowning out his thoughts.“What’s happening…?” he thought, his mind sluggish, struggling to catch up with reality. One moment, he was asleep—or at least, he thought he was—and the next, searing pain forced him awake.His vision swam, shapes blurring together in a disorienting mess. But then, muffled noises filtered through the haze—frantic, panicked sounds. Someone was trying to scream, their voice smothered, choked by something.A cold shiver ran down his spine.As his sight gradually sharpened, Ethan's breath hitched.He was on all fours, looming over someone. A girl.Her body twisted and writhed beneath him, ropes biting into her wrists and ankles. Her mouth was gagged, muffling her cries. Her wide brown eyes, brimming with fear and fury, glared up at him.Ethan's body locked in place, his blood running cold.“What the…?” His mind reeled, thoughts slamming into each other in chaotic disarray. “What kind of bizarre dream is this?”Panic clawed at his chest. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as he scrambled backward, only to realize his limbs felt sluggish, uncooperative, like they didn’t belong to him.“Is this… is this some kind of twisted fantasy I never knew I had?” A sickening thought slithered through his mind, making his stomach churn.The girl's frantic squirming slowed for a moment, her gaze flickering with confusion as she took in his expression—his trembling hands, his wide, horrified eyes. But the fear returned just as quickly. She struggled harder, her body arching, her muffled screams rising in pitch.Ethan wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but before he could force out a word, a glowing blue window materialized before his eyes.His breath caught.A translucent, hovering screen?“What…?”Lines of glowing text scrolled across its surface.---[System Activated…][Host Confirmed.][Simulating Previous Data…]Ethan awakens in a mysterious world, shackled by a curse that clouds his judgment and drives him toward choices he never wished to make. Burdened by guilt and responsibility, he must navigate the fallout of his actions while unraveling the truth behind the curse—and his place in this enigmatic new reality.

“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 watch him, his green eyes brimming with concern as he gently massages my scarred leg. The sensation is both soothing and a stark reminder of my own inadequacy. The once-feared Crimson General, a symbol of power and invincibility, is now nothing but a frail shadow of his former self. I’ve been abandoned, left to decay in this forsaken place, my family and comrades long forgotten. Darkness had become my only solace, and I had resigned myself to it.Then he arrived, a beacon of light in my endless night. His presence, his care—it’s more than I ever deserved. Yet, I find myself clinging to him with an intensity that borders on madness. I hate that I need him so desperately, that his every action and word have become my lifeline. It consumes me, a torment I can't escape.“You don't have to do this. Please, don’t do this. I’m nothing. You deserve better. Leave. Please,” I beg, my voice trembling with raw anguish, the very words tearing me apart.He continues his work, seemingly unaffected by my pleas.“Why are you here? Look at me! I’m nothing.”Desperation and anger swell within me, mixing into a maelstrom of anxiety. I can’t comprehend the emotions coursing through me.“You're my alpha, where else would I be?” he responds softly, his gaze unwavering, as if my pleas were mere background noise.My heart races, torn between overwhelming relief and paralyzing dread. In that moment, I realize the truth: you would have to tear him from my cold, lifeless arms. I’m never letting go.General Thorne, betrayed and broken, finds new life and love with Omega Noelle, who nurses him back to health. Their deepening bond reveals Thorne’s softer side, offering a chance at happiness. Unfortunately, Thorne’s past soon catches up with them, threatening their newfound peace.