MTL - Quick Transmigration: Heroine Arrives, Woman Rapidly Retreats! - Chapter 2060 Lying in front of his girlfriend VS blackening incumbent (26)

Qi Tian was determined to design the most advanced aircraft engine but accidentally lost his life while saving others. He then transmigrated to the National Master Manor in the Cultivation World and became a disciple of the National Master, with an extra engine appearing inside him.Whether it's enemies or spirit stones and elixir, they all can serve as fuel for his engine. With the engine roaring, his cultivation journey is as unstoppable as a flying plane.As a National Master, he assists in setting up emperors and selecting heirs. The nation thrives, and the people live in peace.As a cultivator, he sweeps away all kinds of spirits and demons. Emperors bow their heads, and warlords make way.What did you say? A monk wants to bring three great demon cultivators through here? Can you tell them that my engine needs an upgrade?[This book is written in a refreshing style, making reading easy and relaxing. Your support is greatly appreciated.]

[Mature Content]I was born a bastard to the Archduke of Beloria, scorned because of my odd-looking hair and sickly body, maltreated by my stepmother and sister.And my father? He never looked my way. I was the reminder of a mistake he could never accept.My entire life should've been trying to live through my days as a labeled whores daughter and the taint to the noble house but everything changed when my marriage to the Lycan Monarch was announced.Lycans are apex predators, superior beings, beastmen, and originators of those horror stories your parents told you about to make you behave. My father saw fit to throw me to the beasts as a means to reclaim the lost lands.I was the bargain for a better future for the last human kingdom, but I felt more cursed than blessed. Forced into training to please a beast and ensure I was fit to be his wife.I dreaded the day I'd wed the Monarch and be treated no less than human meat. I've heard stories about him, and they are far worse than any combined. They call him a mindless beast, merciless, the ultimate feared being in the entire realm, and the terror that bested the vampires in war and ended it under his rule.My future was bleak.But when the day arrived and I set my gaze on the beast I'm meant to marry... I realized Drevon Balthar was unlike the rumors; they didn't tell the whole story.

The world was consumed by a vile corruption brought from beyond – the sun dimmed, and life as we know it was almost extinguished.And yet it was not the end but merely the beginning.Long after the disaster, a lone survivor awakens with a newfound power to wield the divine flames and many questions about the past. He embarks on a long journey to burn the rot away, discover what's left of the old world and maybe, just maybe, ascend to divinity.

“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.