MTL - Becoming An Ancient God From Blood Therapy - Chapter 316 Blood Enforcer

In her previous life, she was a highly respected Heavenly Empress, but on the eve of her wedding, she was betrayed and died by self-immolation!

Lu Lingche, heir to a prestigious family, is known for his handsome, aloof, cold, and obstinate demeanor, showing disdain for all women. Qiao Yin silently loved him for five years, sacrificing everything with the belief that she could warm his icy heart. However, just three months into their marriage, he planned to abandon her for another woman.

What did he mean by holding disdain for all women? It seemed that he was only holding disdain for her! Despite her broken heart, Qiao Yin embarked on a new life that led to a spectacular career, making her a top leader in her industry. When she encountered Lu Lingche again, his shock was palpable: “The competitor who cost me so much is you?”

Responding with a gentle smile, Qiao Yin greeted him: “President Lu, nice to see you.” While Lu Lingche remained well-dressed, cold, and rational during the day, in the quiet of the night, he lost control, embracing her tightly and pleading, “What do you want? I will give you anything. Don’t leave me.”

“President Lu, I already have a fiancé.”

“He’s now tied up on the rooftop. You have two choices. He dies and you marry me. Or he lives and I die?”

Perplexed, Qiao Yin questioned, “Weren’t you the one who wanted the divorce? Where is your so-called heart’s desire?”

“You have been my heart’s desire all this time!”

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My name is Lin Fan. I have crossed the border. I want to cultivate immortality, and my mana is boundless.

“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.