MTL - Their Commission Pay is Not Right - Chapter 990

The salted fish youth Qin Yan, after experiencing a variety of virtual games, finally opened his own lucky road in the abyss game.

A pair of red high heels, from the puzzle of the abyss game producer.

Zeng was obsessed with joining the great forces, and ushered in a new life after leaving.

On the big stage to show his strength to the world, Qin Yan and his partners will eventually bloom …

- Description from Qidian

Kain, a young teenager, accidentally lost in a Dungeon and awakened a special system. A system that allows him to continuously return to level 0, using his level to add and increase his skill points. From there, Kain began his journey to find the truth of this world, and when he took off that mask, what he saw was...

Ren Zhouyuan, who loves to study Chinese culture since childhood, has never imagined that his own life would one day be subverted by a foreigner.

Not only do these foreign devils not love the Chinese, but they also scoff at him, looking at his eyes like watching a fool.

After getting drunk, Ren Zhouyuan is for no reason pregnant with a ball, and actually gave birth to a child as a man. This kid is blonde; almost do not have to verify who he is from the “handwriting.”

Ren Zhouyuan does not want to make that arrogant foreigner part of his life, but after fate tied them tightly together again, he found that there was a big difference between this man and the arrogant fighting nationality he imagined.

Leonid: Honey, what does ” Jijiwai Wai*” mean?
Ren Zhouyuan: Refers to people like you
Leonid: But I’m not chirping ah …

- 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.