MTL - Meeting A Demonic Cultivator, Even God Cries - Chapter 112 First snowman

The servant looked at the grieving princess. “Your Highness, the Regent Prince sent your scholar fiancé to the Western Butcher’s daughter!” 

The princess gritted her teeth, speaking to her servant that it matters not as she has other suitors in line. Many days later, much to her dismay, the servant ran in a hurry. “Your Highness, the Regent Prince expressed his intention of becoming your suitor! All other men in line were sold to Gou Lan Red District!”

The princess was distressed. She said to her servant it matters not. She’ll soon be married to Prince Fuma. Then the uneventful came. The servant once more ran to her, almost tripping in the process. “Your Highness, Prince Fuma was imprisoned at home! Meanwhile, there’s a red sedan chair waiting at your residence for your marriage! It was led by the Regent Prince!

The princess was stunned. For a day such as this to come, it seemed impossible. This nothing but a sad story of a female boss crossing back in time to hold the thick thighs of the big boss. But while raising him, she was eaten in the process.

Endless sky and infinite space, the cosmos isn’t some paradise waiting to be found, it is full of darkness and danger, death and terror of the great unknown. However, for that glittering swath of blue, we have no fear! For the longevity of men, we have no regrets! Nothing shall stand in our way because it is finally our time, our age! The age of cosmos exploration!

“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.

The Fu family in Liushan Village has had boys for generations, and was so poor that only boys were left, and they finally hoped for a daughter. As soon as the little girl was born, the grandmother who was almost dead was so happy that she recovered from her illness; as soon as she went out to pick up things and found her hands were soft, all the birds and animals flying in the sky, swimming in the water, and running in the mountains fell in front of her, like a pie falling .

I thought that picking up gold would be powerful enough, but I didn’t expect to find a husband on the way, who is still quite a powerful person.

Ever since she was born in Fujia, it has been smooth and smooth, and she has never failed to do business and build a house. The family members treat her dearly and spoil her to death.