MTL - Black Technology: Starting From the Space Jumping Machine - Chapter 49 space bubble

After her rebirth, she stared at her drop-dead gorgeous husband and suspected that she must have struck her head hard at the door for demanding a divorce time and time again!

In her previous life, she was blinded and murdered by her blood relatives. Now that she was reborn, she vowed to hold on to this thick thigh of her president husband, ravage her enemies, tear down that white lotus and regain her happiness.

- Description from Novelupdates

Some say reincarnation is a blessing, but for me, it's a dreadful curse. Cursed with endless reincarnation, I've been reborn as a villain 137 times. And all 137 times, I've been toyed with and killed by heroes who are far more cruel than the said villains... If I can't win no matter what I do, then I'll crush those so-called heroes at their very roots. - Quality Fan Translations, Made by Fans for the Fans - Villain Takes Over The Academy

Superpowers descended upon the world. This was a world where everyone awakened to superpowers.

Some people awakened to abilities at the lowest F rank. They could only work the most difficult jobs for their entire lives. Meanwhile, some people started off with S rank powers and skyrocketed to fame.

In this age where talents determined everything, Ling Feng awakened the clone ability, which was ranked second last in the F rank powers.

The crowd mocked him, “That is one of the most useless talents. After one awakens this ability, they can create a clone of themselves. However, their strength is halved in the process. Aside from running errands and making deliveries, it is useless.”

However, very soon, Ling Feng discovered that something was off. That was because his talent could level up from the lowest F rank up to the SSR rank! He had unlimited clones and unlimited evolution!

Many years later, half of the superpower users in the world were Ling Feng’s clones.

“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.