MTL - Blue Sky Sword - v3 Chapter 37 Cotton waist [2 in 1]

【Hilarious and Adorable Novel】As a military doctor with expertise in both Chinese and Western medicine, Gu Changsheng felt that this time-traveling journey was ridiculously screwy!Once he traveled back, he was gifted a son, hmm, it felt quite nice.Having a son to rely on in old age, plus owning a steady estate, wealth and glory weren't hard to come by.A lousy father turns over a new leaf? Sorry, mom here isn't fond of revisiting the past!Son, what kind of dad do you want? From the multitude of handsome and wealthy young men out there, let’s pick and choose…This is the story of a bizarrely outstanding female doctor, strutting through ancient times with her child in tow!

Ajax was an orphan who survives a massacre along with his friends but unfortunately gets separated from them.

Fortunately, after a turn of events, he successfully gains a system which helps him increase his cultivation, but doesn't know what it is called.

But he knows one thing for sure, this system is very powerful and helpful in taking his revenge.

“Whoever you are, I am gonna find you”, Ajax mumbled himself with a disgruntled expression.

In a world where Summoning of an elemental spirit is done through a dream when they are 15 years old, Ajax with the help of a system and his summoned spirits sets out on a journey to seek revenge against the mastermind behind the massacre.

One morning, after being bound to the system, MC started his routine of always being captured/ attacked by the ML.

It doesn’t matter if he transmigrated into the ML’s little brother (TN: Here I think brother disciple) or master or opponent, but in the end he is still forcibly taken by the ML.

After transmigrating to many worlds:

MC: Come out system!!! The heck?! Why do these MLs not love their female goddesses, but insist on doing it with me! Aaaaahh!!!

System: …. __(:3」∠)_ Don’t ask me, I also don’t know.

- 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.