MTL - Faraway Wanderers - Chapter 72 Exposed

Chu Feng crossed the Jiuzhou Continent and inherited the Ancestor God Blood Pearl, cultivating until he became a Peak Martial Emperor. By chance, he saved an exquisitely beautiful woman with whom he fell in love and married. Unexpectedly, the woman turned out to be the Empress of the Jiuzhou Empire, and after giving birth to twins, a dragon and phoenix, she left without saying goodbye. Through numerous rigorous cleansing and marrow-washing sessions conducted by Chu Feng, these young children astonishingly developed supreme Divine Runes within them, capable of suppressing all forms of energy across Jiuzhou. Three years later, while dull and adorable, the invincible but unaware siblings, took advantage of Chu Feng’s secluded meditation during Crossing the Divine Tribulation, sneakily slipped out of the village, and embarked on a journey to find their mother.

Angel Johnson was a waitress struggling to make ends meet when an unexpected contract with Tryson Bliss, one of City Y's most powerful and ruthless billionaires, changed everything.Tryson needed a fiancée to appease his demanding family, and Angel, desperate for money and a way out of her humdrum life, agreed to play the part.What began as a calculated arrangement soon evolved into something neither of them expected—an intense and forbidden connection.But when Tryson's family uncovers Angel's true motives, they cast her out with venomous disdain.Humiliated and heartbroken, Angel's last hope is confronting Tryson. But instead of an apology or a chance at redemption, she finds herself shattered when he declares that he has chosen his first love, Riley, the woman he was preparing to marry.Devastated and with only her pride left, Angel walks away, determined to rebuild her life alone.Two months later, Angel is lost in the pulse of the music at a dark, crowded bar, seeking refuge in anonymity.A hand seizes her from behind, and her breath catches as she turns to face the man she can't forget—Tryson.His eyes, once cold and calculating, are now stormy with raw emotion, and he pulls her into his orbit, holding out the contract she once signed. “We haven't finished our work, Angel. The contract says you have a year left to be my fiancée. Don't tell me you're planning on breaching it now.”With no choice but to comply, Angel moves back into the house that once rejected her.But to her surprise, the family she once loathed now welcomes her with unexpected warmth and kindness.As she navigates this unsettling shift, Angel is left to wonder—what has changed, and why?What secrets do they hide that could alter everything she thought she knew about Tryson and his family?And as Angel's heart begins to thaw, she's confronted with the hardest question of all: Can she keep the secrets she's hidden from Tryson?And will Tryson fight for her love a second time, despite everything that has come between them?

“Your fate has been decided. You knew this when you made that decision years ago. The only way out for your family is for your son to marry the Daughter of Destiny. Only her fate is strong enough to save your lineage,” the priest said.“Then we must find this Daughter of Destiny,” the king declared.After committing many evil deeds, a dying king tries to save his family from the wrath of heaven.He had defied heaven once, and he was confident he could do it again. Anastasia, the unflavoured daughter of Duke Thompson, becomes the prey whose good fortune will be used to save the royal family.Would he succeed?? Find out!!

“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.