MTL - Bamboo Horse Alpha - Chapter 39 Arbitrary

A supreme expert in the Immortal World had died, and a strand of his soul returned to its original body on Earth. Tang Xiu discovered with amazement that ten thousand years passed in the Immortal World, yet only a single year passed on Earth.

Destiny splits before me into two unrelated, straight lines:one leading to a palace and city ablaze, the Kingdom overthrown, the Earth bearing suffering, and Life enduring torment in this Fire.And the other leading to the pinnacle of Ancient Kings, where deities in the clouds personally crown me. I don the laurel wreath, basking in the cheers of the mountain. My gaze pierces through the mists of history, my Knights conquer lands for me, my Sword cleaves through obstacles, leading my people to victory.I take up this Scepter, holding the Authority of the World in my hands. I overlook the multitude, altering the course of history.I am Brand, King of Vorn, and this is my Legendary tale..........................Plain version synopsis: This is a story about a Senior Warrior with memories of rebirth, crossing back into the World he once fought for to alter the strands of history and make a mark in the sands of time.

The reborn Xu Renshan originally bought 50 times the lottery ticket with his memory, but he passed away with a huge sum of 200 million yuan.

Originally, he could successfully interview with the advantage of rebirth and become a civil servant, but he changed his mind when he met a rich woman on a blind date.

The civil servants who work from nine to five can’t compare to soft rice.

…

Many years later, the tens of billions of rich women, heh, his assets are increasing by tens of billions of income every year, and the unit is US dollars.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.