MTL - Tempest of the Stellar War - v26 Chapter 58 Sirius Army

Light and darkness are twins, blessings and curses coexist.Oh girl who stands upon the stage of destiny,May your path ahead be filled with blessings.------------Anko Probabilistic Narrative Writings：It's like telling stories by rolling dice. Just as many games offer various action and dialogue options that lead to different branching storylines, this book creates characters, advances the plot and builds the world view by providing a large number of different branches and using dice rolls to determine the outcome.

Lu Chen woke up to find himself participating in a live-streamed creative competition show!Contestants were tasked with creating works based on themes given by the show.When the theme ‘Countryside’ was announced, other participants quickly began crafting heartwarming rural stories, tales of pastoral love, and picturesque depictions of harmony and simplicity.Lu Chen decided to take the road less traveled—he wanted to blow the audience away!He chose ‘Operation Icebreaker’ as his inspiration.At first, the audience thought they were getting a story about rural development. But as the plot unfolded, something felt… off.A village of 20,000 people, every household with the same type of large pot, and a full-scale drug production operation?The internet exploded.[Countryside theme, and you’re writing about a drug-making village getting rich together?]The producers were in chaos.We said countryside! What’s this Taizhai nonsense?Lu Chen, unfazed, replied, “Director, rural anti-drug campaigns are a countryside theme. Now, are we sticking to the theme or not?”And thus, the Master of Sticking to the Theme was born.Given the theme Fishmonger, he wrote The Legend of Gao Qiqiang.

Never had the Radcliffe family expected their son-in-law, a loser in their eyes, to be the hidden Dragon Lord who had lived for myriads of years...

“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.