MTL - The Sword Dynasty - v8 Chapter 183 Fellow

When 20-year-old gamer Liam isselected to test Elysium, a revolutionary virtual reality game, he expects excitement and adventure. But the moment he opens his eyes, Liam realizes this is no ordinary game. Trapped on an unfamiliar planet alongside four other testers, he must navigate strange landscapes, face dangerous challenges, and unravel the mysteries of Elysium.As the testers progress through the game, they uncover unsettling truths that blur the line between reality and illusion. Survival becomes the only mission, but with every step forward, the stakes grow higher, and the price of freedom becomes uncertain.NB: Sex Chapters will be identified with R-rated.

The 51st year of Konoha was designated by later generations as “the beginning of reform in the ninja world” and “the first year of Vientiane renewal”.

Orochimaru made an indelible contribution to this.

Because he was haunted by a lamp god.

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After being guided by a traveler who became a lamp god, watch how Orochimaru harvests leeks from the ninja world and walks the road to eternal life.

- Description from novelbuddy

Once upon a time, the Land of Promise thrived under the cycle of the four seasons change. Until a vengeful enchantress cursed the land, and divided it into four realms each with a ruler to bear its burden.The people suffered for years under the endless heat in the Summerlands, the bitter cold in the Winterlands, the never changing bloom in the Springlands and the constant fall in the Autumlands.A prophecy whispers of a marriage between a king and queen that will release the land from its curse and unite it under a single kingdom.Princess Caroline is forced to marry the Summer King, will she be able to fight for a peace amidst a court full of power hungry nobles and will she succumb to a burning love in the arms of a fiery warlord?

“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.