MTL - Gourmet of Another World - Chapter 1833 Come out, the soul of the army!

The world was hit by an abnormal narcolepsy, and there was a mass coma. Lee-joonhyuk was transferred to a dimensional battle field as he fell into an abnormal narcoleptic sleep. This is the story of him as he starts as a minion.

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.

Spot was summoned from his comfortable charging pad and familiar floors to a world of magic and intrigue. After the flight of his new patrons, he is left to care for a filthy castle. During his quest to keep this new home clean, he will face demons, foreign armies, and the dreaded stairs.All those who stand before him will be swept away. Those who follow his spotless trail will find enlightenment, purity, and a world on its knees.Follow this wholesome vacuum on his quest to power.

“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.