MTL - Age of Mysticism - Chapter 431 News from Saint Lun City

Painfully shy and conflict-averse, Yun Ruoyan is a scion to a noble house only in name, a puppet embroiled in political machinations beyond her ken. At the tender age of eighteen, poisoned and at death’s door, she finds herself thrown out into the streets. Her relatives have all been executed, betrayed by her dear husband and her cousin. With her dying breath, she curses her own weakness and swears revenge.

When Yun Ruoyan awakens once more, she is thirteen, transported five years into the past by the will of the heavens. Her death-defying experience has changed her: no longer is she the malleable creature she once was. But more questions await at every corner—what is the truth behind the birthmark that disfigures her appearance? What are the circumstances surrounding her mother’s mysterious death?

Will the phoenix rise from the ashes, or will she fall once more in thrall to fate?

France, 1934. The scars of the Great War still shape the military minds of the Third Republic. Trapped in the past, its generals place their faith in fortifications and defensive warfare, while across the Rhine, a new German army rises, faster, deadlier, and ready to crush everything in its path.Into this world awakens Captain Étienne Moreau, a man who should not exist. He remembers another life, one where France falls in 1940, where German tanks storm through the Ardennes, bypassing the Maginot Line. One where his country surrenders in a matter of weeks.But here, now, he has a chance to stop it.As an officer in the 2nd Armored Division, he fights for reforms: pushing for mobile tank warfare, warning of Hitler’s growing ambitions, and challenging the high command’s obsession with World War I tactics. Yet, his ideas are dismissed as radical, madness from a young officer who “thinks he knows war.”Surrounded by political intrigue, military infighting, and rising fascism, Moreau must carefully navigate the system, winning allies among future leaders like Charles de Gaulle, while avoiding suspicion from the French High Command. His knowledge is a double-edged sword, if he is too aggressive, he risks being labeled a traitor. If he does nothing, he will live to see France burn.As war draws closer, Moreau faces a terrifying question: Can history be changed? Or is France doomed to fall, no matter what he does?Time is running out. The Blitzkrieg is coming. And he may be France’s last chance to fight back.

“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.

Idol show for dead people?Rayen was suddenly thrown into a supernatural idol show after meeting an untimely death at the peak of his career as a band vocalist.Upon waking up in a strange building, with a creepy stalker fan claiming to have written his entire biography, and a strange jukebox demanding him to perform, he learned of his death and found himself in a bizarre situation.[Please select a song to dance.]“What? Dance? I don't know how to dance!”[Select a song or disappear?]“Ain't no way I'm gonna dance!”[If you want to revive, become an idol.]“Screw revival! I don't want to dance!”