Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 544 - Teacher

Zhang Chen traveled to the world of tomb raiders and bound the storyteller system. As long as someone listened to the book, he could gain popularity.

So Zhang Chen started his life as a storyteller at the Crescent Hotel.

What he never expected was that Boss Yin was actually interested in him!

He thought she was the boss, and she actually wanted to marry him!

The bigwigs of the Nine Sects and Four Factions originally just listened at random, but they didn’t expect that the more they listened, the more they felt that something was wrong.

The Lu Palace in the Warring States Period, the Tomb of the Queen of Jingjue, the Palace of the Queen Mother of the West, and the Jiuzhong Yaolou, all of them are told of bizarre stories.

At first, everyone didn’t find any problems, but with the discovery of ancient tombs.

The expressions of everyone also changed.

This is storytelling! This is clearly an introduction to the experience of tomb raiding!

Where is this upside-down boss coming from, he must be brought in! .

- Description from novelbuddy

I found myself possessing the body of a young master who everyone was eager to kill. I’m invincible, so let them try to kill me. It’s only for one second, though.

After traveling back in time to a rural family, Hua Xiaomai declared that a wild life needs no explanation.Mornings began with the aroma of cooking rice, evenings spent cooking fish and shrimp, days were colorful and flavorful, and integrity was just like passing clouds.Her elder sister said, when you meet a good man, you must decisively tackle him. Hua Xiaomai rubbed her hands together, ready for action, while a certain man stepped back three paces.“My lady, don’t rush. Leave this kind of thing to me.”--------------------------------------------------------------------------A new book, “Tender Beauty,” is uploaded, inviting all the young ones to check it out, kiss kiss O(∩_∩)O

“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.