MTL - The City’s Almighty System - Chapter 3486 Kill four

The vast Kunwu Mountains, one hundred and eight thousand. Spiritual ethereal sword rising, sweeping the summits of the nine provinces.

A modern day otaku is reborn in a wuxia world, becoming the little shishu of a little sect. Unexpectedly discovering he has the martial arts trade system of a garbage web game. Through it he can actually exchange for all of the martial arts in Mr. Jin Yong’s novels.

And so, Nine Yang Manual, Nine Yin Manual, Nine Swords of Dugu, Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms… All kinds of amazing martial arts started to dominate the jianghu of another world…

- Description from Novelupdates

Theodora is the Queen of Polis, a city-state that lost the war against the most powerful empire in the continent.

She is sure that they'll execute her immediately but, somehow, she survives the meeting with the Emperor, and she finds herself... Married?

Tossed in a new world without connections and allies, she has to either accept her fate or lose the chance to help her people once again.

She soon finds out that her new husband knows more about her than she does herself, and that his purposes are often far from what she expects.

A fallen queen that doesn't know how to be anything else. A handsome Duke who's the cause of her ruin. And their efforts to find some happiness in a marriage that's been forced on them.

WARNING: there are contents not suitable for a sensitive audience.

The smut scenes are half-censored at the beginning, but the amount and details will increase after a few dozen chapters (according to the Queen's mood .-. )

***

«I'm sorry for lying to you, your grace...»

«You're a Duchess. No one will dare to consider your words a lie: if you say that you were painting souls, then it's the truth.»

«I will remember it.»

«No, you have to understand it, Theodora. You're not a prisoner, but my wife. I'll protect you when you need it, and I'll help you with any issue you have. You're not just a Duchess in the name. You're my Duchess.»

«It's hard to believe in such a short amount of time.»

«For now, stop shaking like a chicken. I won't hurt you.»

***

Being the author of the breakout novel, Gates of The Primordials, Jarren Fletcher did not care about the constant critiques claiming he had a habit of treating extra characters as mere plot devices, creating and then dumping them once they’d served their purpose.To Jarren, it didn’t matter. Extras were just that—extras. All that mattered was the main character.But Jarren never expected to wake up in his own story, reincarnated as one of the meaningless, disposable extra characters, Deremiah Morcant—a coward who took his own life to escape the perilous challenges of the Gate Trials.Now, Jarren has to face those deadly challenges himself in the body of a weak, insignificant extra. He must find a way to survive in the rules of the dangerous world he had created, whilst also trying to save it.But time is running out. The next Wave is coming, and so are the paragons.

“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.