MTL - Super Dimensional Martial Immortal - Chapter 3 six dimensions of spirituality

One day in the faraway Blue Boorish Mountain inexplicably appeared groups of scoundrels who came to reside there. It was said that those scoundrels came from the You Kingdom, Yen Kingdom and many others due to their failures in battle. And due to its dangerous terrain, no one had dared to conquer the Blue Boorish Mountain. As a result, this place obviously became a paradise to the scoundrel and thieves. They resided there and ruled the place.

They had also built up the Illusory Perennial Domicile, which meant a place that was their lifetime home. There was a group of scoundrels who had appointed themselves the Great Nine Bandits, and they were seen as the best baddies in the area. They built up a school in which the children of the Illusory Perennial Domicile would come and study only survival skills.

In such a small place appeared an orphan student named An Zheng who also came to study there. He was really a useless orphan in the people’s eyes due to his cowardice. They even said that he was a chicken who did not dare to do anything for himself even in fighting for himself, and no one cared about such a coward except a ten-year-old child, Du ShouShou, his only friend. As a result, he was the center for such baddies to cause trouble.

However, no one knew that orphan An Zheng would change his life forever as he went to a dead end.How powerful was that orphan? How much effort did An Zheng have to make in order to satisfy his passions of the devilish elimination? How would the life of his friend, Du ShouShou change after his after death spawn? And might the Great Nine Bandits be the invincible ones? Was he good or evil? Was his power strong or weak?

Was his world in perfect order or chaos? They were all questions that the little child An Zheng needed to discover during his journey.“Bring happiness to loyal people but chide the evil. However, if the treatment goes wrong, law will become a tool for the evil to force the good, preventing executors. Find a repugnant gateway to pass. Great things win cruel tricks. We learn from the idea of God but we reject the power of Him.”

The year is 407 AD and Rome is at the precipice. In the West, a usurper by the name of Flavius Claudius Constantinus has declared himself emperor. By doing this, he and his traitor legions have fractured the Western Roman Empire into two. At the same time, the north bleeds! Countless germans swarm across the borders of the Empire and pillage its lands in their ruthless raids. Alaric, King of the Goths, rises to a position of prominence and threatens the ancient capital of the dying Empire with his barbarian hordes. As if things weren't bad enough, rumors from the east state that a mysterious power rises within the fogs of war, threatening to drown the Empire in a river of blood.

As a response to these threats, the indolent emperor Honorius has given orders to his supreme commander Flavius Stilicho to reclaim the province of Gaul from the usurper. However, should he leave the heartland of the Empire undefended, undoubtedly Alaric would invade. Thus, under the threat of barbarians at the gates, Stilicho dispatches a young roman general by the name of Titus Claudius Marcellus to bring an end to the reign of the usurper. Will Rome fall to the tides of barbarians and traitors alike? Or can Marcellus restore a world collapsing around him? Find out in Heir of Aurelian!

A high-ranking Duke’s daughter, Roxana, and her fiancé, the crown prince.

Everything came crashing down when a Baron’s daughter Claire came between the two.

Honor, reputation, even her fiancé, the Crown Prince…..

In the depths of despair, the infamous Grand Duke Elvin reached out to Roxana.

“I can help you.”

It was a dubious proposition, but Roxana accepted it in the end……

The fragile and lovely Claire and the wicked Princess Roxana.

But who was the real villain?

“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.