MTL - Everyone Pampers the Small Blessing Who Has a Spatial Pocket! - Chapter 673 Tucao

Douluo Continent, Star Luo Empire, Star Luo City.In the finals of the All-Continent Advanced Soul Master Academy Soul Dueling Competition, Liu Xing looked coldly at Shrek Academy's last hope on the opposite side and said, “Huo Yuhao, Wang Dong, surrender now, and no one will get hurt.”High above Shrek City, Liu Xing stared at the Radiant Holy Dragon soaring into the sky and said in a deep voice, “Ten thousand years of Shrek, today you will be erased.”Facing the Sea God Tang San, who had illegally descended to the lower realm, Liu Xing's voice was like a chilling wind, icy and bone-piercing: “Sea God Tang San, you have violated the law and recklessly interfered with the lower realm. You are courting death.”Hearing this, Tang San was momentarily stunned. Why did these words sound so familiar?••••There is only one single female lead for now but there are many female characters who will have feelings for mc.••••

Xia Lian, a 21st century military doctor died in an explosion and found herself transmigrated to the body a 12 year girl. Her mother died and her father abandoned her and her little brother for another woman.

The unparalleled Pill Emperor is reborn into another life, practicing unique cultivation techniques and refining pills that others cannot. Occasionally, he would offer advice to those so-called masters of pill dao, while casually recruiting a few talented disciples to follow him.“Want a cultivation technique? No problem!”“Need a pill? No problem!”“The real question is, have you hung out with me?”In this life, Mo Wangchen is destined to reach the pinnacle once more, to dominate with his pills and reverse the heavens with his martial prowess!

“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.