MTL - Resurrection of Terror: My Eight Magical Skills Will Be Automatically Cultivated - Chapter 165

Thirty-six [sequences] rule the world, and the creatures who hold the [sequences] can move mountains, cut rivers, cover the sun with one eye, and enter dreams for thousands of years.

There are heroic wine immortals who master the [Wine Sequence] and walk freely, there are court princes who understand the [Law Sequence] to formulate laws, there are [Tao Sequence] Taoist priests in the mountains, there are [Gu Sequence] wild Gu masters, there are [Gu Sequence] Love Sequence] the stunner and beauty.

Waking up from a dream, for Chen Yuyan, the rivers and lakes are no longer the rivers and lakes in the game “Strange Rivers and Lakes”, but the real world that is vividly presented before him.

In order to survive, in order to get rid of the gaze of the “fairy god”, Chen Yuyan had to step into the rivers and lakes, facing conspiracy, swords, swords and shadows, and ulterior motives.

- Description from novelbuddy

[NO. 4212: ‘Humanity’ has failed the Demotion Match.] [NO. 4212: ‘Humanity’ has been deemed useless. Beginning deletion.] As Earth was being erased after their final game ended in failure, Martial Saint Sung JiHan managed to resist deletion and saw messages pop up in front of him. [To think someone would be able to resist being erased.] [Let’s give him an opportunity to re-challenge.] [Player ‘Sung JiHan’ is returning to the time of initial entry in The League.] When he woke back up, he had regressed back in time. Given a second chance, he swore to himself to stop the fall of Korea and humanity and take flawless vengeance against those that ruined things in his original timeline.

Follow the journey of Korea’s Martial Saint, Sung Jihan, as he struggles to prevent a future of destruction and ascends as the Martial God!

“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.