MTL - Forty Millenniums of Cultivation - v5 Chapter 2193 The origin of God of War!

In a world of cybernetic upgrades, Leo takes a different path—mastering external gear and stacking skills like Sword Mastery LV10, Physique LV10, and Dodge LV10. With sheer skill and cutting-edge tech, he outclasses even the most deranged Cyberpsychos.-------------System, Cyberpunk 2077 game and Edgerunner, Male MC, The Mc hasn't played the game-so doesn't know the plot.

Mo Poor never thought that he would suddenly have supernatural abilities until he shot an arrow towards the sun. The absolute hit means that he can be the god on the pitch, the god of the basketball world, the big Luo Jinxian in the game… He can easily become a winner in life, spend his life magnificently, and wealth and power will not be difficult . Just as he was using this to change his destiny and enjoy his life, he met the inmates who claimed to be from the Blue and White Society… When he understood this organization that executes necessary evils in the dark of the world and maintains human security, he found his true identity Goal: I want to become the president of Lanbai. The contents of this book, D-class personnel nouns and inspirations are derived from works on wikidot. And released according to CCBY-SA3.0.

- Description from novelbuddy

In The Kingdom of Elves, the War of Gods 1000 years ago caused the fall of the World Tree. In a world where true gods rule, the fall of the elven civilization came soon after.

A 1000 years has passed, the new World Tree is now reborn.

Eve Euktrahill, the Mother of Nature, the Goddess of Life, the Great Ruler of Elves. Armed with the ability to connect to the Internet on the blue planet, She(祂, a pronoun used for god) now must rely on players from the blue planet to help her goal of reviving the past glory of the elves and the World Tree.

“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.