MTL - Open a Clinic to Cultivate Myself - Chapter 50 Danhuo and Meixiangding

Our straight (?) bottom woke up ten years into the future and found himself on the bed of his childhood friend… At the start, the bottom was shocked to his very bones, but he soon quickly accepted this premise and found the whole situation to be rather amusing. Precisely then, the bottom once again went back to his timeline — back to when he and the top were just platonic childhood friends.

In the Stone Axe Tribe, a band of young warriors, led by the spirited Urich, embarks on a hunt in the forbidden Sky Mountains. Unknowingly, they cross into an unseen civilization, revealing two distinct worlds divided by the mountains. Urich, a curious and charismatic barbarian, is enthralled by this new world of endless wonders. Join Urich as he explores unfamiliar lands and make thrilling discoveries, and unexpected alliances.

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Kai Tensen’s life ends in a freak accident, only for him to wake up as a newborn in a completely different world filled with magic, danger, and a “System” providing him with information and secrets of the world. But his second chance at life takes a deadly turn when he discovers the truth: he’s the first necromancer in over 500 years, and the world will do anything to see him destroyed.Hunted by the fanatical Inquisition, Kai must outwit bounty hunters, corrupt mages, and even gods themselves to survive.As Kai’s strength grows, so does the danger. Each step into his newfound powers tests his humanity, forcing him to confront questions of loyalty, betrayal, and the cost of his ambition.But with whispers of a divine conspiracy and ancient relics that could shatter the gods’ control, Kai realizes his fight isn’t just for survival. It’s for revolution.In a world that brands him a monster, Kai vows to outlive his supressors. If they want a villain, he’ll give them one. The gods called him a curse and the church called him evil, but he’ll prove he’s their reckoning.Death is only the beginning.Author's Note:As you may know, I'm also the author of Fractured Horizon, a slightly futuristic fantasy/sci-fi novel about mutated human monsters and psychics that battle them. I also wrote My Undeath, a reincarnation novel set in a fantasy world. It wasn't my best work, but I loved writing the story.I put a lot more time and effort into Reborn with a Necromancer System, and ironed out the details for a while, plotting approximately 500 chapters for all of you. If you liked either of my other two novels, this novel has a lot more planned for it than the other two.

“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.