MTL - Reborn Capital Empire - Chapter 57 short Enron

For the man’s promise, Xiao Chen returned strongly, the bodyguard of the body of the beauty president, sweeping the enemy of all directions, composing the legend of the king!

- Description from Uukanshu (translated)

After reincarnating, she pressed against Mr. Qin. “Sir, from the darkness on your forehead, I predict you’ll soon face a major disaster. If you want to overcome it, you’ll have to marry me. I can guarantee that you’ll have many children and grandchildren. You will also become as rich as a nation.

“Mr. Qin, who was already as rich as a nation, said, “Get lost.”

“Honey, when will we have our third child?” He asked one day.

“So what if she’s Mrs. Qin? She’s still a useless mute,” a hater said.

Shocking! Mr. Qin’s mute wife was actually a world-famous voice actor, actress, award-winning scriptwriter, bestselling author, esports champion, top-notch hacker, and god-like racer…

“Ehh… It’s all for the purpose of entertainment. It doesn’t serve society at all.” The hater was feeling panicked.

Shocking! Ye Caitang is the Dean of the International Medical Research Institute.

“I surrender. There’s no messing with this one. Goodbye…” The hater said.

“Mr. Qin, how do you feel about marrying a full-level bigshot?” The media asked.

“Huh? Isn’t my wife a fortune-teller?” Mr. Qin replied.

Dear readers! Fresh green style, maybe you will like it more in .

Growing up in poverty, Sunny never expected anything good from life. However, even he did not anticipate being chosen by the Nightmare Spell and becoming one of the Awakened - an elite group of people gifted with supernatural powers. Transported into a ruined magical world, he found himself facing against terrible monsters - and other Awakened - in a deadly battle of survival.
What's worse, the divine power he received happened to possess a small, but potentially fatal side effect...

“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.