Picking up Girls With My System - Chapter 203 Battle in Markhar City (1)

Take a look at the cover. Now take a look at the synopsis. Now take a look at the cover once again. Did you manage to see anything else outside of two big plots on it already? Then let me tell you this - if I'm willing to use this great cover for this novel, then surely as heck I am confident in the first chapter making you read more!

The thousand-year-old Imperium is crumbling, and war looms on the horizon, bringing with it both brutalities and splendor. Caught in the midst of this chaos is Lansius, an office grunt and veteran MMO player who has been transformed into a medieval peasant. With no wealth, status, or magical abilities, and armed only with his basic knowledge of the art of war, can he endure and thrive in this realistic medieval fantasy realm?Follow Lansius as he moves from one occupation to another, striving to survive during these turbulent times.

Ye Beibei was unprepared for a while, and she married Young Master Gu who was sitting in a wheelchair.

I thought that from then on, I would have lived a career as a wealthy man, rich and free, but I never knew I was enslaved every day to become a nanny.

Ye Beibei beat the table: Liar, I want a divorce!

Young Master Gu pushed a cute baby to his front: You still want to get a divorce even when we already have a child? Wife, you wake up!

“…” Ye Beibei looked at a cute baby, who was exactly like her, with a confused expression.

Who can tell her when she gave birth! ?

- Description from MTL

“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.