MTL - Top Student: Experience Infinite Occupations - Chapter 241 Shenlong's Small Means

Rude is a tank, known as the strongest in history. However, the Hero decided that his skills were worthless because he couldn’t do anything but take damage, and threw him out of the party. His cleric friend who trusted him followed him to the remote village that Rude was forced to return to.

NOTE : This book was stolen by someone on Amazon and is being distributed without my permission, a report has been filed for the same.Follow the story of the crimson princess Dia Gremory, who aims to become strong enough to live comfortably with those she loves.There is no NTR, R*pe or anything dark enough.Attention there may be him and his who have crept into the story without me realizing so if you see please let me knowThere will be crossovers with other stories. For now tensura, reborn to master the blade confirm.Of course, I only have my OC, and can be 2, 3 others otherwise the rest belongs to their respective history.If you don’t like the story, please don’t start insulting me or anything. I’m just writing it for fun.

(A/N: If a ruthless MC is not your cup of tea, don't read this.)Heat Wave, Torrential Rain, Severe Cold, Tsunami, Flood, and Alien Beasts swept the world in a series of natural disasters, almost wiping out mankind.Lu Nanzhi regressed two years to the past and found out that the settings of the natural disasters was similar to the mobile game app she played before regression.And it was in the beta testing phase.Ding—[Beta Game Test is over.][Data is being reset.][Player is starting over.][Please claim the Beta Test Rewards.]Equip with the Beta Test Rewards, Lu Nanzhi was determine to survive in this life and started stockpiling like crazy!

“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.