My Secretary is a Little Sweet - Chapter 1541

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.

[Are you crippled?][Did your fiancé break the engagement?][Did you lose your family to a demon attack? Are you the last surviving member of your clan, seeking revenge?][Does your family look at you with pity because you're the only one without any innate spiritual roots?][Are you tired of being told that you're a 'waste of resources'?][Are you stuck with no way to progress? Are you tired of being weak and helpless?][Well, have no fear! This Supreme Master is here to help you!]

Corvin Blackmoor was a man carved by war and betrayal.From the blood soaked deserts of Afghanistan to the shadowed corridors of British Intelligence, he served and watched ideals crumble into lies.Patriotism. Honor. Loyalty.He buried them all long before a Quds Force assassin silenced his final breath.But death was only the beginning.Dragged from the ruins of a dying world, Corvin awakens in Valtheris. A savage world ruled by magic, where gods are myths, and survival is written in blood.He is no longer human.He is the last of the Dark Parasytes, an extinct race once so feared that every kingdom, every empire, and every mage order hunted them to extinction.Armed with Shadow Siphon, the power to replicate the strengths of others, Corvin stands alone at the bottom of an alien food chain.Weaker than a wild beast, with enemies and predators lurking in every forest, every court, every throne.Weakness is temporary, patience is eternal.In a world fractured by ancient wars, between noble Elves, scheming Demons, ruthless Humans, primal Feralis and Aetherborn Corvin will climb.He will feast. He will conquer.And in the shadows of Valtheris, the last predator will rise.No gods. No masters.Only the cold ambition of a man who has nothing left to believe in… but power itself.

This is a story of a modern man returning to ancient times, returning to a real world without any extraordinaryness, and slowly rising by relying on the ability to attribute all data.

- Description from novelbuddy