MTL - While Others Are Practicing Leveling, I Am Cultivating Immortality - Chapter 51 Select reward

She was a peerless genius in the way of medicine, holding the Medicine King Cauldron in her hand.

Once she transmigrated, she became a lowly little medicine slave in dispensary.

Physicians made her life difficult, princesses humiliated her, even her fiancé came knocking on her door to break off the engagement?

What was that?!

However, she had the cauldron in her hand; the top-notch medicinal herb was in her hands. She stole rare and precious herbs, punished the slanderous, plotted against the petty, treated the Emperor’s sickness, and saved the Crown Prince.

Then, the imperial edict turned the medicine slave to a concubine and received endless doting. It was unbreakable. Wait… didn’t Prince Jun, who wielded great power in the imperial court, say she was a a detestable individual?

As the saying goes, the concubine was good in the way of medicine.

However…

- 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.

I have a foster father…

Um, that’s not the important part. I just want to say, why doesn’t he understand the differences between boys and girls in this world? He insists a pornographic picture is actually a diagram of acupuncture points. And also…why did he raise me as a boy for 15 years?! It’s impressive that he can write prescriptions, but I studied poisons.

But, why is he a Fang Hua Beast…

Behind the calm smile lies a heart riddled with scars.Beneath the weight of fate burns an unyielding gaze.A body trapped in the abyss of despair—if it reaches out, can it grasp the light called hope?A soul locked upon the rack of destiny—if it prays sincerely, can it embrace the future called redemption?