MTL - Business Manager - Chapter 1947 Sisters meet

Lin Qiao remembers nothing from the past five years since the post-apocalyptic era began. She wakes up only to find herself having become a newborn, superpowered zombie, in a body that used to belong to an evil and notorious woman!

Having kidnapped a girl and raped her father, the previous host met her demise at the very hands of the conspiracies she courted all her life, leaving Lin Qiao no choice but to deal with the consequences while trying to figure out her own past and the fate of her loved ones.

As for the little girl’s father, can’t he just have a decent fight? He’s a human being, but why is he biting a zombie? She’s the zombie! She’s the one who’s supposed to bite!

- Description from Novelupdates

Being a doctor is hard. You need to go through four years of college and four years of phd, costing eight good years of your life and a giant amount of money, but still become a normal people. What else can you do? Well, someone has an answer. With a little luck, one can easily become the peerless divine doctor better than anyone in the city!

Mercenaries, with self-intelligence awareness, can replace the players to fight, blame, and make copies.

Mercenary World, a multi-national game, smashing the chapters of the classic games of the old era, integrating all kinds of elements, players can choose any game to go to the peak – task flow, competitive flow, copy flow, business flow , the flow of war, the flow of business, the flow of leisure … set a high degree of freedom, the existence of play is reasonable, overnight.

Starting from the mission of God, grasping an opportunity, there is an infinite possibility of counterattack!

- Description from Uukanshu translation

“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.