MTL - This Star Doesn’t Work Overtime - Chapter 222 220. I will endorse whatever Wang Cheng endorses!

Blue Star youth Ning Shi accidentally downloaded a mobile game called “Zhu Century”.

“Di! The clone is created!”

Ning Shi has obtained a game clone, the clone will become stronger, and the main body will also become stronger!

“The clone has been exercising for 12 hours in the practice room, with +1 physique and +1 mental strength.”

“Clone the dragon to kill the dragon and get the blood of the dragon!”

“Use the Charm Fruit in one’s body, and the value of the face is +10!”

Doppelgänger traverses the game worlds one by one, creating forces and leaving legacy.

“The avatar has successfully communicated and conquered Alice, the Duke of Rose. Alice is about to arrive, please pay attention to the main body.”

Ning Shi:  …

- Description from novelbuddy

Rotten! Rotten! Rotten!
Yin Li was fired by the company and dumped by her boyfriend. When she woke up, she found that she had traveled to the orc world. He thought that with the brains of modern urbanites, he could make a fortune, but he found that courtship alone was enough to stumped him.
The blond lion orc likes bamboo horses, and the black-haired and yellow-skinned black bear orc has long been engaged… Looking left and right, only the hyena orc who looks exactly like his ex-boyfriend sends a “signal” of love to him.
However, it is rare to come to another world, but also to eat grass? Yin Li said: “Ugly refused!”

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.

What if your own father and his mistress were behind your mother’s death? What if you were about to be sold if to a scumbag?