MTL - The Poor Monk Cultivates a Way - Chapter 106 hands on

Born as a test subject yearning for freedom, he never imagined that a gamble of fate would leave him as a youngest prince of the once-mighty Vijayanagar Empire in the 16th century India. Fueled by his undying thirst for absolute control and endless amusement, he stops at nothing to achieve his desires. Follow along as His actions, driven by a twisted sense of entertainment, plunging the empire into a maelstrom of chaos.Disclaimer:This novel is a work of fiction that explores historical events within the context of a parallel Earth. Any similarities to real-world historical occurrences are purely coincidental and are a product of the author's imagination. The intent is to offer an alternate perspective on history and should not be construed as an accurate representation of actual events. Reader discretion is advised.If you own the rights to the profile picture used by the author, please Let us know in the Comments for proper attribution or its removal. We appreciate your understanding and are committed to resolving any concerns regarding intellectual property rights.

The witch, Elonora Asil, has fifteen previous convictions.

And the transmigrator, Noah Park, had no intentions of being involved in the novel’s original plot of the dragon beheading the villainess. With that thought in mind, she abandoned her titles as The Wicked Witch and sought to live a long and peaceful life.

So she heads down to the countryside wrought with deep remorse for all her misdeeds. And all should be happy… or she thought.

“Please raise me!”

And so it would seem that she stumbled upon the heroine’s pet dragon — the black-haired kid that would turn ballistic and obsessive later on — imprinted the villainess as his mother. And to make matters worse, the male lead suspects her as the prime culprit of stealing the dragon.

“How long should I keep up with you?”

She thought he’d arrest her right away, but seems like the male lead was slowly becoming the dragon’s butler.

“Can I hug you?”

“No.”

“Then… can you hold me?”

The villainess believes that the dragon needs a bit of taming.

‘Oh, male lead, won’t you sign a life contract as a real butler?

In the aftermath of apocalyptic event, a man rises above the others to lead an era.

With threat beyond the stars, as Supreme Beings of otherworldly star system watches over as Destiny and Fate work their way, an era of Gods descended upon Earth

And in his rise, lies a terrifying secret. Read how he rises above it all, through all the complicated love life, his determination to push through his own fate and destiny and the Will that pushes him forward.

With all of this, could the Fate that was written be overturned? And will he truly rise to the top and survive?

A great battle for the fate of the Universe began.

This is the story of Lord Shadow.

“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.