MTL - Grumpy God [Quick Travel] - Chapter 162 vanity male college student

I was born in Japan and inherited a temple at the beginning.The system is activated at the beginning, which can enhance everything.“Ordinary Buddhist Scripture” enhanced to “Medicine Buddha Sutra”Recite the sutra ten thousand times, and you will become a Vajra!“Vajra Pestle” strengthens “Vajra Indestructible Root”The most rigid and masculine, indestructible!“Eight Divisions of Heavenly Dragons” enhanced to “Great Heavenly Dragon Visualization Method”Great Heavenly Dragon, Prajna Buddha!The widow haunted by evil spirits, the eight-foot-tall adult…“I don’t know if I can bear it.”“Demon, I want you to help me practice!”

There are five skills in Taoism: That is, spiritual practice, medical skills, numerology, anthroposcopy , and divination.

As a Taoist doctor, Zhou Jinyuan can tell fortune and save lives.

However, when a doctor can draw talismans and do alchemy, at the same time he is a very young… He has to prove himself is not a liar!

…

Zhou Jinyuan: Seeing a doctor? Wait for me to finish this talisman.

Patient (panic face): ? ? I’m sorry that I disturbed you.

- Description from Novelupdates

What happens when you run really low on luck and get intimately entangled with a perfect on the outside and ruthless on the inside man? Well, sparks fly but not the kind you imagine in cute fluffy love stories.

Already an orphan, Xia Xi Jin has been struggling through these past years to make a bare minimum living. She is a struggling writer who seems to have a careless attitude towards life and a dirty appearance. However, after a one-night stand with President Xi Mu Tian everything changes.

Being forced into a marriage Xi Jin tries to adapt to her new life, new friends and begins to unravel the mysteries of her past and that of her husband. Can love bloom in this penned down marriage of convenience. Read to know!

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.