MTL - Mei Gongqing - Chapter 220 [Irregular serial extra] 煞 scenery

The heroine has no cp
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Yi Linglong, no one has seen her face, no one knows her gender, but there are rumors in the rivers and lakes that this is a man who looks like a good woman.
His martial arts are strong, cold as frost, and a dagger seems to be able to kill all living beings in the world.
He kills one person in ten steps and does not stay for thousands of miles, but he has a maverick that is different from other Jianghu people.
His story can be said for three days and three nights. As a unique existence among assassins, he has become a legend. …
“I told you about the deeds of my male god, did you hear it?”
“I heard, I heard. Is there anything else? I’m going to collect sauerkraut.” Hua Rongyue waved her hand and turned away.
“Hey? Why is it not like you? Is it interesting, cooperate with me anyway, what is my male god doing now? You can figure it out, let me figure it out.”
Hua Rongyue, “…”
——If my calculation is correct, your male god estimates that 80%, maybe, is now accumulating sauerkraut in a small medical hall…

Content tags: Jianghu grievances, disguise, misunderstandings, women disguised as men
Search keywords: Protagonist: Hua Rongyue (Yi Linglong) ┃ Supporting role: People in the Jianghu ┃ Others: Hua Rongyue, Yi Linglong
One-sentence introduction: rushing through the rivers and lakes~

- Description from novelbuddy

The hearse with the weird odor slowed to a stop before the entrance. The sound of pebbles could be heard bouncing on the ceiling. There were footsteps coming from the corridor, and there seemed to be someone sawing next door. The door knob to the room rattled slightly, and the faucet in the bathroom kept dripping even though it had been screwed shut. There was a rubber ball that rolled on its own underneath the bed. Wet footsteps started to surface one after another on the floor. At 3 am, Chen Ge held a cleaver in his hand as he hid beside the room heater. The call he was trying to make was finally answered. “Landlord, is this what you meant by ‘the house can be a little crowded at night’!?”

The formless ancient world was infested with despicable demons. They hunted and feasted on mankind, keeping the human civilization constantly in a weak and suppressed state.

“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.