MTL - Uncle is Up - Chapter 120 Loving mother loser

Over ten years ago, a Bitcoin was priced at $0.008. Today, it is priced at nearly $100,000!It is a fantasy we've all played in our heads. What if we could go back with all the knowledge we have now and invest in some Bitcoins, perhaps in many Bitcoins?Well this is your chance to live that fantasy through Darren Steele, our MC who suffers a soul shattering betrayal in the hands of his girlfriend and her millionaire father.After a sudden death, he regresses ten years to the past with all his knowledge retained and with the Investor System to guide him.[Ding!][Weekly Quest: Make your first investment!]What! Darren can invest in Bitcoin?!Huh?! The price of one Bitcoin is only $0.08!Since he knows when Bitcoin is going to rise and when it will crash, does that mean he can avoid loss and only make PROFITS?!Indeed! With the Investor System, Darren Steele is going to build his way up the business world as a young investor. Bitcoin will make him a billionaire and he will defeat all his rivals and take down the companies of everyone who once treated him like trash!

Chen Yuan from Ping'an County Government had traveled through time, his mind harboring a Qi Fortune Altar.As long as he sacrificed Qi Fortune, he could obtain guidance from heaven, Divine Skills, Cultivation Techniques, evil arts, Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures...This world was populated by immortals, Buddhists, demons, as well as lofty temples and the distant Jianghu.There were three thousand Sword Immortals controlling swords across the sky, Buddhist Arhats who could lift the heavens with a single finger, and there was the Jianghu...It was the worst of times, it was the best of times.My name is Chen Yuan, from the Abyss!——————An author of decisive and swift action.

“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.

Traversing into a Fantasy World, Watson became the youngest son of a run-down baron, ranked eight in the family.