MTL - Quick Wear: The Host is Dangerous and Sultry - Chapter 1035 Women disguised as men: the delicate palms of powerful officials (36)

Love is like a battle... A bloodless battle. And every battle has casualties. But this battle leaves even more torturous wounds. Because the wounds of love are left on one's soul.

He might be covered in scars that this battle of feeling left behind, she was the cure he never even knew he was looking for.

He hid his emotions in the maze of his heart, but what to do, the wife he brought home, fancies puzzles.

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Raelle Xiang likes to have everything under her control. Being a CEO, she has always been very calculative. All her life revolved around profits. She'd avoid anything and everything that she couldn't control or calculate; for instance, feelings!

Something intangible like feelings were too bothersome for her.

Shui Xian has turned cold and aloof after the divorce that left him devastated. With enormous wealth, exceptional family back, he was still considered the ideal man but even after years, he was still single.

He chose to bury himself in work to forget the heartbreak and bitterness that someone left behind.

But what happens when this cold President gets into an arranged marriage with the feisty CEO?

One is broken by love and yet cherishes the pain it brought.

The other has always considered love to be a manipulative emotion.

One has a cold personality, the other is simply cold.

One is all about facts and logic, the other still believe in emotions.

With their similar personalities yet contradicting beliefs, what chaos this marriage is gone bring?

Will love manage to ignite?

Senior high school student Dugu Hong was logical autistic and had a very high IQ. Despite his impressive IQ, he was never taken seriously by his teachers or schoolmates. While playing a recently released eastern Wuxia online game called Jiang Hu, three vicious classmates trapped Dugu into a mountain cave in the game with no hope of escape unless he deleted his account and re-register it. Not succumbing to their demands, Dugu decided to stay in the cave and explore the game system, which benefited him greatly. His persistence to obtain massive internal strength aided him in finding a superior way to improve himself, and thus opened the function of inner observation of the main and collateral channels. Meanwhile, in the real world, he discovered he had supernatural powers when he tried to save the girl he secretly loved who had caught the eye of a gangster on the suburban railway.

{Author Of Old-World Extra}There was nothing special about my life... except for how I died.I went out in the dumbest, most ridiculous way possible; even a dog’s death would’ve made for a better sight.But hey, that wasn’t even the weird part. Not by a long shot.For whatever reason, my soul had gotten ripped out and shoved into the body of some “Villain” in a faraway land.Yep, you heard that right. A clichéd “Villain.” And I’ve got ten days before he’s publicly executed.This guy—well, I—used to be a Beggar.One that grew into a Seeker, then a Magi, then a Professor, and then...A Sultan.The one ruler of the entire world.Now? I’m stuck facing the people I used to love, ready to pay for all the “evil” I’ve done.Fate seemed hellbent on ending me, no matter where I went, but just as I was about to give up...A Script appeared before my mind’s eye.{Would you like to witness your real history, your Path?}{Would you like to make it past your Promised Day?}{Would you like to become a True King?}{If so, repeat after me…}It gave me one word—ancient, powerful, and clear.“BASSORĀH!”Many paths came together.—This is a story about suffering. Anger. And Forgiveness.Extra Tags: Drama, Reaction, Misunderstanding, Transmigration. Time Travel.

“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.