MTL - I Just Wanted To Retire and I Was Forced To Become a General - v2 Chapter 1362 I think I do better than you

Luo Qing Chen is a wandering spirit that died thirty thousand years ago, roaming the Chaos Space

In order to not turn into dust, she is bound by an ice cold system to travel through time and space to complete missions.

Girls that pretend to be weak?  Slap them without explaining.

A silly cannon fodder?  Helping them amass treasures.

Meeting a real male god?  All of them will pamper.

System: Dear masters, what do I do if my host even dares bully the heavens?  Waiting for an answer, it’s urgent!

A certain male god: Change systems.

System: ヽ〔?Д?〕丿

- Description from Novelupdates

Yan Yan has become the cannon fodder in the novel.

Young Master Cannon Fodder was lost when he was a child, and when he was found he was covered with scent of red dust (1) , his lazy look provoked annoyance. So it didn’t take long for the cannon fodder to be sent to marriage by his family. The marriage partner is the protagonist of the book.

After the marriage, the cannon fodder not only failed to curb it , but became more able to do it. He pestered the protagonist all day acting coquettish, and finally the protagonist gave the cannon fodder a huge sum of money and drove the person out of the house.

After seeing the “end” of the cannon fodder, Yan Yan’s eyes lit up. Behave in a spoiled manner? He is best at it. It is guaranteed that the protagonist will not be able to bear it within three months, and he will be driven out with a huge sum of money.

Because of a favor owed by his father, Ji Juechuan, who has already achieved something at a young age, had to marry the young master of Yanjia who doesn’t love his mother or father.

On the first day of cohabitation before marriage, Ji Juechuan sat on the side of the bed and looked at his mobile phone. His face became even more ugly when he thought that he would be sleeping in a bed with the perfume-scented person. He will make it clear as soon as he arrives, and let the man pay attention to his behavior.

The bathroom door opened, and a soft and refreshing ball rolled into his arms. The young man with wet hair raised his face and smiled sweetly: “Husband, can I sleep with you tonight?”

Ji Juechuan looked at the person in his arms for a long time, and his Adam’s apple moved slightly.

“Yes.”

Later, Yan Yan received a huge sum of money from Ji Juechuan. It was just that the ticket he had prepared was torn to pieces. The man’s hot hands pressed against his waist, his tone dangerous.

“Yanyan, our wedding hasn’t been held yet, where do you want to go?”
Yan Yan:? That’s not what it says in the book!

*Mr Ji at the beginning: #Who is his wife? Anyway, it’s not my wife#

Later: #Do you have a wife yourself? Why do you covet my wife all day? #

*sā jiāo in the title means to act like a spoiled child/ to act coquettishly

*(1) 红尘 (hóng chén) the world of mortals (Buddhism) / worldly affairs. It’s a part of a poem, the actual phrase is 看破红尘 ( kān pò hóng chén) to see through the world of mortals or to see through red dust/ disillusioned with human society to reject the world for a monastic life

- Description from Novelupdates

In 2173, the world’s first Full-World Virtual MMORPG game ‘Astral Online’ went on sale globally, forever changing the blue planet Asteria!

With its revolutionary Digital Capture System, astonishing graphics and ability to scan yourself into the game with up to 20% beautification, countless defenders rallied to play the game.

Fifty million players logged in on launch. There were no queues or lag on launch, leaving countless critics impressed and willing to try the game. Because the game used a 6-hour play limit a day, it allowed even working adults to keep up with young students and the unemployed.

A resounding success, as more people poured onto the game servers, families and friends alike. Astra Online became a household name overnight.

One month later, the game opened its first RMT system, which made earning a living from the game easier... Thus began the Astral rush!

Professional players formed guilds and factions to increase their profits, but nobody could know this prosperity was a mere joke.

One year later, players fused with their avatars, gaining powerful abilities in the real world, which tipped the power and caused chaos.

Two years later, demons and monsters from inside the game invaded the real world.

Three years later, over 90% of humanity perished, leaving the rest to hide like rats, unable to fight back in fear.

Four years later, this world is no longer ours. The demons march on our last bastions, one by one. They exterminated us.

Zell was an average player who liked to collect beasts in the game and evolve them into humanoids, as they were primarily females.

He spent most of his life working two jobs to make ends meet.

Thanks to the excellent healthcare of his country, there were no crippling debts. There was only emptiness.

When the end came, he was powerless and alone. His only companions were his cute pets and Rika, his cherished Flame Rabbit.

She was the only beast he evolved to a humanoid form after his late start to the game.

He died saving the life of a strange girl with white wings and his pet Rika, the sad eyes of Rika and the girl’s sorrow floating through the air as he slowly passed away.

However, instead of dying, he awoke inside an empty white room with a single computer and a strange, game-like screen that allowed him to edit his IRL avatar and persona.

Who offered him this second chance?

For what reason did they help him?

Can he meet Rika again?

Zell could never know; he only knew his second life’s goal.

Survive!

“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.