MTL - Unfathomable Doomsday - Chapter 215 Declare war

Wei Jin is full of romanticism, and the Five Barbarians are about to disrupt the Central Plains. This is the era Zhao Hanzhang transmigrated into, where commoners and families of humble origin are in distress, and the aristocratic families only engage in empty talks.In order to prevent the gentry from migrating south and to ensure that the world is free of starvation, allowing every common person to eat their fill, Zhao Hanzhang could only roll up her sleeves and get to work.Wei Jin lacks idle talks, we are the people who work hard for food in this world!This is a construction story about striving to survive in a chaotic world with a matchmaking partner, also known as “I Engage in Infrastructure in a Turbulent World.”Zhao Hanzhang encountered an accident on her way back to school after a matchmaking meeting, and upon opening her eyes, she found herself in the chaotic Southern and Northern Dynasties. In this era where order has collapsed and etiquette and morals are all forgotten, there are still people unwilling to succumb to fate, yearning for freedom, and striving optimistically and enthusiastically.

She is an international ace agent,An amazing doctor, God of Assassination, However due to a box she accidentally rebirthed and became an ordinary junior high school student. Weak and incompetent, That scum woman wants to put her head into the toilet. The gambling father, borrowed a lot of money and now they are being chased by loan sharks for debt? There is also a group annoying people in her life. The reborned Yunxiao sneers: I want to know how to write the dead words! She returned from the wind, high-profile attack, if people dared to bully me, they are courting death!

“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.