A Top Scholar in Everything - Chapter 142: Strange Fog

When he woke up, he actually transmigrated into Zhu Houzhao, Emperor Zhengde of the Ming Dynasty!

Ding, congratulations to the host for getting the sign-in system!

Ding, the host signed in for the first time, integrating the background of the first in the world, and the first force in the world, the East Factory.

Ding, the famous officials and generals of Ming Dynasty have been updated, Cao Zhengchun, the governor of the East Factory, and the Eagle Dog of the East Factory have been added, and the loyalty level is full.

Ding, integrate the background of the Dragon Gate Inn, add Yuhuatian, the governor of the West Factory, and add the guards of the West Factory, and the loyalty is full.

Hearing the cold voice in his mind, Zhu Houzhao was overjoyed. For him now, the most important thing is to manage the country well and guard the gate of the country!

- Description from novelbuddy

‘The moment I faced its enormous eye, an unbearable headache struck me. Just by facing it, the amount of information exceeded what my brain could handle.’

Excerpt from ‘Things I Encountered in Space’ by Terra race space adventurer ‘Con Arche’.

…No, I was just looking out of curiosity…?

She, the only descendant of Chinese ancient martial arts, a stunning ghost hand genius doctor, once passed through into the Ye family waste lady.

Open your eyes again, the sky and the earth are surging! What? Born waste? Disaster star? Very good, she will soon let them see what is born waste, what is a star of misfortune.

He is the evil emperor respected by thousands of people, mysterious, noble, and unattainable.

When he met her, she avoided him like a snake, and he entangled her like a vine.

“Evil Emperor, it’s not good, Madam ran away again!”

“Chasing!”

“Evil Emperor, it’s not good, Madam is hiding!”

“Look!”

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.