MTL - Time is slow - Chapter 753 Asaga

Gu Shanhai witnessed this great world of numerous heavens and discarded his third life.The gods of the human realm forged an eternal utopia with blood and fire.The King of the Red Dragon led his knights, patrolling the never-setting empire.The scholar, with a smile and a sword stroke, depicted thousands of miles of rivers and mountains, while monsters opened their eyes and stretched forth claws, giving birth to all manners of demons....'Everyone here is a player; you can't call me abnormal just because I haven't been digitized, right?'

Ein was a hitman on hire. A killer, a shadow, a death with insomnia, if you may.He had witnessed countless pairs of eyes dim as the light of life faded, leaving nothing but vile hollowness. Needless to say, the sight of a soul popping out of the dead body was a first.And it wasn't just any soul. It was the dead heir of Byers Holdings, the same guy he killed with his own hands. Turns out the rich boy Adriel had a horribly irritating and loud soul, but worst of it all - impossible to get rid of.Who would have thought that killing on a blue moon night could lead to being haunted?

I thought I would live a better life in my second lifetime. Unbelievably, I’ve reincarnated into a slime that rolls around on the ground. Anyway, this is my precious new life, so I must work hard.

“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.