MTL - Taoist Master and the Cat - Chapter 11

He is the second master of the Mo family, as rich as a nation, treacherous, cold-blooded, cruel, and ruthless.She is a poor girl kicked out by her vampire parents.By a twist of fate, he hides his identity to have a flash marriage with her.She is an excellent wife.Yet, in his eyes, she is a money-grubbing woman that he despises, being sarcastic and ironic towards her.Tang Zhiluo couldn't take it anymore, “Divorce! We must divorce!”The man sneered, “Don't regret it!”During the cooling-off period for divorce, one handsome and wealthy man appeared around her after another.Suddenly, the second master Mo, like a madman, pinned her against the wall and kissed her, “This marriage cannot end! Definitely cannot end!”Their married life turned increasingly sweet.Later, after the birth of a baby, the high and mighty second master Mo transformed into an ultra-dedicated dad, either coaxing the baby and wife or on his way to coax them.Tang Zhiluo, in accordance with the agreement, gave birth and left.Second master Mo, eyes reddened, begged her, “Luoluo, I was wrong, please don't leave!”Later on, Master Mo exhausted every means, humble as dirt, just to make her look back again.

In childhood, they were neighbors. Xie Zhen always bullied Li Yu.

mc gets transmigrated to Fallout New Vegas with the merchant system. let the questionable adventure begin.

“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.