MTL - Longevity is Different, Caishikou Was Beheaded at the Beginning - Chapter 619 The rain of good fortune and longevity, the dust of immortality (repair)

A Story of banging women's all time.Mike, a 20-year-old supermarket worker, has lived a frustrating life, longing for intimacy but failing to find it. One rainy evening, after finishing his shift, he is struck by a speeding truck while crossing the road and dies instantly. However, his death was a mistake of Angel.__________________________________________He has a Goal in his Life, Fuck a Milf.The Angel Promised him Another Life in Another world, which is backward and Undeveloped.He Got Super Skills to Control women's and fuck them.Will Mike make his dream Come True, or Anything else.[Tags*- #HAREM #R18 #MAGIC #REINCARNATION #ADULT #SYSTEM #SUPERPOWERS #CULTIVATION #DARK]

A mysterious teenager who had lost his past, awakened in Tianlong Continent. Mistaken as the Ye family’s Son, he used this identity to observe this chaotic world and to search for his past self, but only to find an inevitable and terrible fate, therefore he indignantly laughed at his destiny, and revealed his prowess to rule the lands under the heavens.

Since then, the air and the clouds moved with his hands, and even thunderstorms were subject to his palms! He, as the fairytale’s main character, had shocked the people of Tianlong Continent with his legendary prowess and intelligence, but the extent of his powers were still unknown.

- Description from novelupdates

Shaymon, the man who has achieved the apex of dark magic, is framed as being a Demon King and is killed.

“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.