MTL - Raising Wolves - v2 Chapter 57

The white lotus, a mysterious artifact rumored to contain the very secrets of the soul, granted its wielder otherworldly power. Countless powerful Magi from all around the universe waged an epic battle over it. When the dust settled from their fierce clash, the artifact disappeared, awaiting to be inherited by one with great destiny.

Adam dreamed of breaking free from the grip of poverty, yearning for a life of riches and comfort. Yet, in a world ruled by arcane spellcasters, achieving such a dream meant becoming one himself. However, learning magic was an expensive aspiration. Not only did it require talent, but also vast resources.

But one day everything changed when he stumbled upon a seemingly ordinary white lotus…

At 35, Lin Zhi finally died from exhaustion on the delivery table!In her life, she was never married or had children, faced with a difficult and bumpy fate, but fortunately, she successfully delivered 3000 babies.After death, she arrived in hell, where King Yan, appreciating her merit, allowed her to be reborn at the age of 20, and even bestowed her with a pair of... Holy Hands for delivering babies?!Lin Zhi was somewhat bewildered, she didn't want to be a midwife again!“King Yan sir, that... actually, you could grant me a cool, super-rich, devastatingly handsome husband who would love me for a lifetime.”King Yama said, “Lin Zhi, I think you'd better come back to hell with me!”

[What is the method to distinguish the gender of the Thunder Rat?]

[What is the attribute of the Thorn Seahorse?]

[What is the superpower trick that the Lipstick Magnet Monster can learn?]

The last science subject of the college entrance exam suddenly became the basic knowledge of Phantom Beasts!

Chen Qiyue, who was sitting behind the desk, had a bewildered face.

Well… well…

Looking at the contents of this test paper and the surrounding students who had their heads buried in their books, the corners of Chen Qiyue’s mouth twitched.

He must be dreaming.

Or else this world was crazy!

…

Inside the Phantom Beast Feeding House

“Sir, which one do you really want to buy?” the female receptionist asked weakly.

Chen Qiyue pointed at one of the Phantom Beast eggs. “I’ll take it!”

“Okay, I’ll take it down for you.”

“Wait! I’ll take this one!”

Chen Qiyue pointed to another egg.

“Okay, do you still want to change it?”

“Wait!”

The female receptionist was speechless.

Half an hour later

Chen Qiyue happily walked away holding the black, unattractive egg with a few blue spots in his arms.

The female receptionist suddenly turned pale, her legs went weak, and she fell to the ground, crying.

“He was such a bad person. He deliberately pointed out all these Phantom Beast eggs.”

Chen Qiyue spread his hands. “Well, I had to make better use of my cheats.”

“Ahem, I’m a decent person!”

“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.