MTL - Unprecedented Pill Refiner: Entitled Ninth Young Lady (The Indomitable Master of Elixirs) - Chapter 1154 Nine turns back to the soul Dan (4)

The starry sky was resplendent, filled with tens of thousands of Tribes!

During the Great War of the Immortal World, when the race of the God Realm was annihilated by the sixteen Immortals’ Alliance, one of their clansmen accidentally fell into a Purgatory of three thousand years under the Immortal World, lucky enough to survive …

A few years later, in a mysterious hidden family in the Purgatory World, a crippled youth who had been abandoned by his family had accidentally awakened a dragon vein …

- Description from novelupdates

Within the world of Arcadia, there exists an eccentric restaurant. The restaurant causes countless apex Mages to set aside their arrogance and pride, just to feast upon its delicacies. What did you say? You want to abduct the Chef? Could it be that you also want to force him to be your personal Chef? Are you an idiot? You would first have to get through a legion of men and women whose stomachs and bodies were thoroughly satisfied. Not to mention, the restaurant is guarded by a Divine Fox who killed a Mana God Realm Mage with a casual whip of her tail. What, a Divine Fox isn’t strong enough to scare you? Then, how about a group of Yanderes?

This is the story of Kir, who has to thwart the will of Heaven, Hell, and his parents in order to survive, protect the people he loves, and achieve happiness.He just has to make it through life at a magical academy, avoid dying, and survive to find his birth mother, the lost Daughter of Heaven. Or be forced to take his place at the side of his father, a Duke of Hell bent on destroying the way things are.It's a lot to handle for a quiet, brooding angel boy.Fortunately, he has company. A succubus, a foxkin girl, and a half-angel boy to start. And Kir has his own secret: this isn't his first go at life.

“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.