MTL - Proficiency: Cultivated 10 Million Times - Chapter 125 assassin

One day I got a younger sister.Only I know her true identity.

Fang Zhou transmigrated into the immortal cultivation world, and the first thing he did was personally cancel his engagement.As a straightforward and macho man, he decided to cancel the engagement to a beautiful girl with a great figure.In this world where men were inferior and women were esteemed, the righteous were women, the villains were women, the cultivators were women, and even the gods who created the heavens and earth were women.Female warriors robbed the rich to help the poor and explored the world with their swords. Men, on the other hand, had to be cautious when going out so that they could protect themselves, lest they be robbed of their wealth and dignity, leaving them with nothing.Transmigrating into such a world, Fang Zhou, a handsome man who was desired wherever he went, felt immense pressure. Girls wanted to play with him and even tried to capture him and take him home.For the sake of his own life, Fang Zhou had no choice but to fight against women to the end.“Get lost, you annoying woman! Don't disturb my cultivation!”

A soul was transmigrated into Narutoverse but was refused to be given any sort of insta-OP power, instead, he could choose from three talents.

Follow him and his loved ones on their journey to become strong as they pave their own path through the battle-filled world of Naruto.

Will they be villains? For some, surely.

Will they be heroes? For others, maybe.

But anything they do is due to their own desire.

“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.