MTL - Science and Technology Library - Chapter 1073 :select

Xie Jin is an international student studying in the United States. Because of an accident, he obtained a special ability that allows him to detect the attributes of all objects within a certain range. Because of this ability, he started from panning for gold and gradually went to the country of Bald Eagle. The pinnacle of wealth. (No abuse, no depression, logical, straightforward and reasonable road to the rise of North American chaebols)

- Description from novelbuddy

The best actor was shooting a doomsday movie when he suddenly transmigrated to a real doomsday world and became Aon Flearov, a young man with a huge debt and a blood-sucking family.What does one do in the apocalypse?Of course, shoot variety shows, live streams, do ads, act in movies, hold concerts and fan meetings—The whole showbiz world was placed in real apocalypses, and Aon, a newly-debuted doomsday star, was thrown to a random variety show to fight zombies!It was at this desperate moment that Aon awakened a superpower—A system.DING! [Heyo, dad, your son is online~]Aon: [Son, are you a farming system? A counterattack system? A pay-to-win system?? Anything will do!]The system instantly burst into tears: [B-but dad, I'm a superstar system!]And so, in a doomsday dating variety show:The system picked and chose a few “cabbages” seriously:[Dad, do you want to find me a zombie step mom or an alien step dad? Old or young? One, two, three, or four?]In a doomsday gourmet show:The system handed a frying pan, spatula, guitar, piano:[Go, dad! I want a stir-fry zombie brain, alien omakase, mutated beast AYCE, spirit plant pancakes— ]In a doomsday idol survival show:The system looked at the zombies and aliens crying on their knees, begging for mercy:[Dad! They're all moved by your singing! They want an encore!][Dad! After you do the zombie dance, the zombies collectively change their race's name!]Doing part-time jobs in the eternal sun apocalypse, camping in a natural disaster doomsday, living with aliens, styling zombies in Doomsday Supermodel, turning into plants and fighting zombies, fighting against fellow doomsday celebrities in Doomsday Survival championships—Here, there are various shows you can and can't imagine. Name one, and it will come true.#An actor who cannot become a superstar isn't a good doomsday survivor#The three no:No R18No haremNo BL/Yuri— no bullying the author!PS: This novel is written by the author's cat

Swing the sword 100 times, [Sword Intent lv1]

Swing the sword 1000 times, [Sword Intent lv3]

Swing the sword 10,000 times, [Sword Intent LV10]

Swing the sword 1,000,000 times, [Sword Intent lv99]

Su Yang traveled through time, into the body of ordinary people.

Fortunately, swinging a sword can improve sword intent.

After continuous improvement, Su Yang found that there was something wrong with this sword intent.

[Wild Supreme Sword Body]

[Handcrafted Sword Spirit Root]

[Solve communication difficulties, rub the sword net with your hands, and start ancient surfing]

The strength increased too fast and was targeted by the lv30 boss?

Su Yang looked at the lv99+ above his head, the old monster should lie down in the coffin.

Enemies from the sky, immortals destroy the world?

Then I, an ordinary person like me, will make a move.

One sword transforms all kinds of methods, and I will rub whatever is lacking.

[ps: Invincible flow, cool text, cool all the way, no aggrieved, no suppression, no brainless pretending to slap your face]

- 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.