MTL - Return of the Net Gaming Monarch - Chapter 110 Nightmare of chaos

This is a world shrouded in darkness.The spreading Black Fog corrodes every living creature.The only protection for humanity lies in fire.But as the dark Epoch approached, the fires slowly extinguished.Countless strong Kingdoms became dens for Dark Monsters, humans lost contact with each other, and survivors trembled in the faint solitary light.Until Rod came to this world.“Damn, what's this cow and horse stuff, is it edible?”“This Soul, it's delicious.”“As long as the will of fire remains unextinguished, I believe, one day, humanity will once again illuminate this world and burn all spectral vermin to ashes.”“Even if I'm mired in darkness, bearing the Dream Realm, I can still support this world!”“We've won!”——The world is about to fall, the Abyss looms at our side.And I will raise this Unique flame to light up the world.Yes, I am the last King of Darkness.But...Hello? Anyone, save me.

Even though he lived in America, Tang Cu had been deemed the “godly author” since his debut 8 years ago on a famous Chinese online novel website. However, many people did not know he had a severe social anxiety disorder which caused him to be considered “cold.” After being invited to do an interview for the company’s 10 year anniversary celebration in China, he finally gathered his courage to meet with his #1 fan, Pian Yu.

Pian Yu had been following Tang Cu’s novels for his entire career and, after noticing the lack of romance in Tang Cu’s popular novels, they wrote fanfiction for his novels to include the ‘romance’ Tang Cu left out.

However, Pian Yu turned out to be a male college student named Lu LianGuang.

- 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.