MTL - Transmigrating into a Demon Spirit to Blow up the Entire World - Chapter 149 Original world 1

Ye Chu was reborn, and he was reborn on the body of the heir of the Ye family who was supposed to be bent.

From now on—

National male god, master of metaphysics, super scholar and other status blessings! She is the existence that drives everyone crazy!

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I heard that Ye Xiubai, the current head of the Ye family, is Ye Chuyang’s uncle.

Ye Chuyang: No, he is my man!

[Women disguise themselves as men Shuangwen, the male protagonist and the female protagonist are not related by blood, welcome to the pit! 】

- Description from novelbuddy

After three days of working nonstop, Cheng Zhaoci has transmigrated (read: had a stroke) as is everyone’s wish.

What does it feel like to transmigrate into a male, the rarer s*x of the insectoid race?

Cheng Zhaoci would reply, ‘yeah never mind that, there is still work that is my job to do.’

One day, the internet of the insectoids that had a sore lack of entertainment media suddenly featured a new account that had short serial comics. The comics had sweet love, passionate fighting, and all sorts of imaginative stories. Many fans flock to follow this account. Of course, many shemales were sceptical of the 1-to-1 monogamous love depicted in those comics.

Later, when Wing Commander Wei Zhuo was deep behind enemy lines, his xiongzhu, the Wing Commander Cheng Zhaoci came to rescue him without hesitation. That is when the shemales realised – there certainly can be sweet, sweet, love. It just doesn’t belong to them.

The shemales only want to smile and wave them away.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.

She, the world's chief doctor of the 21st century, the legendary overlord of the medical world, was killed and her soul transmigrated…She, the useless miss of the Windcloud Empire, was ugly, silly, and obsessed! She died in her own sister and fiancé's hands…When she reopened her eyes again, she had the soul of the strong but the body of the weak…When she became her, her fate would be rewritten and a miracle would appear…This was a story of a two-faced person meeting another two-faced person. With pure hearts, they would end up together.