MTL - Phoenix Destiny - Chapter 773 Owner

“Ah, Young Master, Cassius?...I'm afraid you'll be dissapointed to hear that he's not available at the moment as he's 'attending' to his adopted mother in her room.”Cassius's lovely maid, Isabelle said in a fluster while she heard lewd sounds escape from her Mistress's room.“No, I'm sorry to say that you can't meet Young Master today, since he's 'helping out' his sister-in-law with some 'favours' in her garden.” The innocent Isabelle excused herself as she witnessed her lady's flower being picked, instead of the rest of the flowers in the garden.“I hate to say this sir but Young Master, Cassius is currently guiding Miss Knight in the 'ways of the sword', so you can probably only meet him tomorrow.” Isabelle once again blocked the guests from entering, knowing that the sword her Young Master was handling could penetrate a body, but could never wound one.“I apologise once again as Young Master is at the Capital right now teaching a class to the female students in the Academy.” Isabelle said with her cheeks flushed, already knowing that her master was taking a very 'practical' lesson about human reproduction with the girls in his class.“Oh my! The King wants to meet the Young Master?...Well I guess he'll have to wait since Young Master, Cassius has gone clothes shopping with the Queen.” Isabelle lied to the King himself, knowing that her Young Master wasn't shopping for clothes and was actually removing the royal clothes off the Mother of the Country.Excuses...Excuses...The loyal maid, Isabelle had no choice but to make excuses for her Young Master, who was the most talked about and hated noble on the Continent because of his depraved escapades with all sorts of woman ranging from his own Family to Royalty itself and his Tyranical rule over his estate.And to think that not too long ago he was considered a wastrel noble, who was going to drink himself to death one day....When did it all begin she wondered as she excitedly walked into his room to get the reward she deserved for being such a loyal made, while someone else made excuses for her this time.•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•[No NTR - No Yuri - No sharing - No system that assists the protagonist - No mind control - No drugs or potions that influence the girls - No unnecessary Drama - Incest - Harem - Hardcore Netori - Slice of Life Romance - Demigirls - Elves - Vampires - Beast Girls - Slaves - Royalty - Finally a very competent protagonist]

I want to go to the fairy road, step on the gods, I want to be happy!
Repair the baby, cast the fairy body, and smash the fairy mark!
The starry sky opens, the gods fight, and the depths of Chen’s home are back!
I am Xiao Hua, this is the story of my god that I am in the world of immortality, creating souls, dying, dying, and not dying.

- Description from Uukanshu translation

s a self-professed no-lifer, Yuri idles his days away in front of a computer. This all changes the moment his life in Japan comes to an abrupt end and he finds himself reborn in the strange new world of the Shiyalta Kingdom. His new life includes everything he once lacked: loving parents, a comfortable home, and a promising future breeding and raising birds on his dad’s ranch. For centuries, the kingdom he now calls home has enjoyed peace and prosperity, shielded by friendly nations that, like Shiyalta itself, were established with the collapse of a once-great empire. War is a distant problem, relevant only to Shiyalta’s ruling families whose warriors periodically set out to join the fighting upon massive birds trained by Yuri’s dad and others. But this peaceful existence can’t last forever. Something rotten lies at the heart of the kingdom, and it doesn’t take someone with Yuri’s exceptional intelligence to realize that those distant battles will only remain irrelevant for so long.

“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.