MTL - Gold Medal Mediator - Chapter 48 The main godmother of gold

This book narrates the joyful cultivation tale of an ordinary commonplace university student and a cute and coquettish little fox.

# SPATIAL # FOOD # FIGUREHEAD # AGRICULTUREThe only daughter of General Dingguo was lost the year she was born, and everyone thought she had very bad luck. Who would have thought that more than ten years later, they would find her? The young master and ladies of various families in the capital gossiped a lot about it, saying this young lady from the General’s house must be stupid, poor, ugly, and unwanted. Hearing this, the new champion sneered, “They call her stupid?” The richest man in Jiangnan mocked, “They call her poor?” The jade-face divine doctor scoffed, “They call her ugly?”The Imperial Army’s commander was puzzled. “They say she’s unwanted?”These men captivated all women everywhere, but when they saw that mountain girl, they were all smitten and had eyes for no other. The blood-stained, cold, and aloof prince held his sword and gave a chilling smile. “Who will you choose, my fiancee?”

In his old world, Aiden Ferith was a peerless war hero—feared by nations, revered by millions. Through years of brutal cultivation, he reached heights others only dreamed of. But glory turned to ash when his most trusted disciple drove a blade through his heart, shattering his empire and his soul.That should have been the end.But fate had other plans.Reborn in a world ruled by magic, where mages manipulate elements and battle with dazzling spells, Aiden awakens in the body of a seemingly average boy named Logan Smith. Here, cultivation is unheard of—dismissed as a myth, or worse, a joke.But what they don’t understand will be their undoing.Armed with ancient cultivation techniques that bypass the limitations of magic, Logan begins to carve a path that defies the laws of this new realm. Stronger, faster, and more resilient than any mage, he’s not here to play by their rules.He’s here to break them.Betrayed once.Stripped of everything.This time, he’s not fighting for a kingdom—He’s here to live life on his own terms—to protect those he loves, and finally, to live for himself.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.