MTL - America’s Road To Wealth - v2 Chapter 328 I'm going to be governor at twenty-five?

There was a man in the modern world that built his business empire from scratch. He was hailed as a genius by his peers and was respected worldwide due to his contributions to the world.If it is not only for that unfortunate accident that led to his death. He was a man who could potentially change the world with his mind that still stores a plethora of ideas.But—fate had others plan with him. He found himself in another world, what’s more, it’s primitive and technologically backwards compared to his last world. And what’s more, he turned into his younger self, and in this world, he was an orphaned boy.For him to survive, he must use everything that he had at his disposal, and that was all in his head.

Qin Qing played a game and suddenly traveled to the world of Greek mythology and became Apollo, the God of light.

At this time, he discovered that the treasure chest system in the game had also traveled over.

Looking at the densely packed light spots on the map plate, he couldn’t help but fall into deep thought.

Um, Athena, don’t get me wrong, I’m just here to get a treasure chest. I didn’t break into your bedroom on purpose.

Zeus, please move your butt. My god-level treasure chest is under your throne.

Here, why is the super god treasure chest in Tartarus?

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“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.