The Mech Touch (Web Novel) - Chapter 5437 Heavenly Relationship Management

The Red Dragon came from the vast wild wastes, coveting all the strength in the world. It once had countless titles: Mountain's Wrathful Flame, Infernal Calamity, Crimson Emperor, Ashen Dragon......The world trembled under the shadow of the giant dragons. He stirred up the craze of the magic industrial revolution; in the empire he established, Wyverns roared, artillery fired in unison, and steel beasts appeared in the sky and on the land, while disasters from another world rampaged everywhere.“Submit, or die.”Cassius spread his wings, blotting out the sun, and gazed down at the trembling humans, elves, and dwarves below, saying thus.......It is a story about a Red Dragon with a player template conquering, ruling, and transforming an alternate world.(Pseudo of DnD, The Fourth Calamity, Red Dragon)

When an era came to an end, various forces set foot in cultivation to compete for immortality. A young boy who spent most of the time sleeping got lucky in the troubled times and became an unparalleled immortal who could cover the sky with a snap of fingers. Was he going to live forever?

- Description from Novelupdates

The protagonist, Punk, is a cautious, cold-blooded, and ruthless Mage.

His goal is always his top priority, over feelings or morality. When unnecessary, he doesn’t like to act like pigs to eat tigers; there are almost no life and death struggles, sometimes risky but steady progress. No strong enemy everywhere, Instead, Punk is always a strong enemy of others.

And he has a very keen interest in the secrets and teachings of the Netheril civilization.

“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.