MTL - Womanizing Mage - Chapter 158 Sibi, is that you?

The new book “Cultivation of Immortals Begins from Planting Sweet Potatoes” has been released, and new and old book lovers are welcome to come and read it!

A poor boy whose parents died accidentally found a mysterious space and set foot on the avenue of cultivating immortals. From then on, he planted spiritual herbs, refined elixir, opened shops, trained troops, and established a fairyland…

This article is about cultivating immortals and farming, not for mortals, not for stallions.

 Book Friends Group: 815190609

- Description from novelbuddy

An insurance, a safe city, not afraid of invasion, worry-free reconstruction, welcome to buy invasion insurance!

The player Lei Chi is trapped in the game world and cannot go offline. He has obtained a claim settlement system. As long as his own camp is invaded by the player, he will get a claim settlement treasure box.

From then on, he said the harshest words and suffered the most poisonous beatings.

If others build towers to defend, they are afraid that they will not be able to stop the invasion. If Lei Chi builds towers, they are afraid that the towers are too strong and no one dares to come.

Come on, come and hit me!

“I’m not touching porcelain, I’m cheating!”

“What kind of green onion are you, everyone who wants to beat Lao Tzu has made an appointment until next year, so line up!”

PS: Don’t get me wrong, this is a serious tower defense novel.

- Description from novelbuddy

“For those who dare call themselves gods, I, Wen Ran, will crush their legacy beneath my feet. Even dogs are more honorable than those filthy bastards!”A feared Godslayer, who, due to betrayal, perished under the might of the heavens, having his world destroyed. Saved by a mysterious system, Wen Ran was granted a second chance at life but reincarnated in the body of a lowly slave. Hunted by the gods who sought his head, Wen Ran vowed to reclaim his title by showing heaven his vengeance as a 'God Slayer.'

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.