MTL - A Complete Explanation of the Negative Textbooks of the Imperial Examination - Chapter 88 marriage

She choked to death after drinking a mouthful of cold water. Was there anything more unlucky than this?

Of course, there was! When she reopened her eyes, she found herself transmigrated into a three-hundred-pound fatty.

Not only was she fat and round, but she also had a palm-sized black spot on her body.

She looked down at the layers of swimming floats on her body and swore to exercise and lose weight.

She had just lifted her leg when she collapsed to the ground. This time, she was prepared to go on a diet and lose weight.

When she heard the earth-shattering rumbles from her stomach, she held herself back.

She had not eaten for three days, but she realized that she had only lost one tael.

She instantly broke down. Sensing that something was wrong, she checked and realized that she had been poisoned.

As a descendant of a family that practiced traditional Chinese medicine, this was a small matter.

With acupuncture techniques in her hands, why would she be afraid of a little poison?

Before she could succeed in losing weight, the scumbag canceled their engagement and her stepsister came to provoke her.

‘It’s fine. Staying calm is more important. What? Does he dare to call me an ugly pig, a fat woman, a fatty? This is intolerable!’ With her acupuncture skills, she was able to detoxify the poison and become beautiful.

Using her competence, she managed to face-slap everyone and lose weight while torturing scum.

After accidentally rescuing a chronically ill uncle, he turned out to be her scumbag ex-fiance’s uncle.

She smiled maliciously and said, “Uncle, you should give yourself to me in return for rescuing your life!” When she saw the scumbag again, she said warmly, “My good nephew, call me Auntie.”

Persona:

Song Jiaren: Vengeful for the smallest grievance, naughty, and cheeky.

Yan Cheng: Two-faced, strong, patient, and cunning.

He was once a kind boy — loyal to family, faithful to love, and full of hope.But kindness means nothing in a world that spits on your loyalty.Roman died betrayed.His stepbrother beat him.His girlfriend cheated.His family used him like a slave — and when the world ended, they threw him to the undead.But death wasn’t the end.Roman was reborn — weeks before the apocalypse that would erase humanity.And this time?No more mercy. No more weakness.This time, Roman builds his empire in the shadows, manipulates nations, steals resources before the collapse, and creates a stronghold while the world sleeps peacefully — blind to the hell that’s coming.> What?! A supermarket in New York is completely wiped out overnight!Japan’s largest food storage warehouse was found empty — zero inventory, massive losses.Similar cases in South Korea and Australia? No trace, no witnesses. Just... gone.One man is preparing.One man is rising.Roman.But just when he thinks he's the only one pulling the strings in the dark...Others begin to move.Reincarnated. Ruthless. Just like him.The game is no longer survival.It's domination.In this new world, only one king can rule from the shadows.And Roman will burn the world before he kneels.

More than ten years later, this sentence gradually spread in Elbaf Continent:

Never use magic to deal with tyrants, because you will find that he will return your spells to you thousands of times after being strengthened by countless magic specialties.

This is the story of a dragon-shaped self-propelled fort that keeps doing things in another world.

There is nothing that one magic can’t fix. If there is, then there are more. ——Izawa

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.