MTL - Urban Banished Immortal - Chapter 230 Does he also have a voyeuristic hobby?

Read the first six chapters, and you won’t be able to stop.Elliot Crown was just an ordinary teenager......boring life, average grades, nothing special. But one day, he unlocked a terrifying ability: he could hear people’s thoughts… but only if he knew their name and age first.At first, he treated it as a game, exploiting secrets, manipulating people, and bending reality to his will.But then, the nightmare began.One night, he fell asleep in his world—only to wake up in another. No explanation. No way back. Just an unfamiliar world filled with danger.He tried using his ability, desperate for answers.And then… he died.But that wasn’t the end.He woke up again........in a different world. New body. New identity. Same fate.Over and over, the cycle continued. Sometimes a prince, sometimes a slave, a soldier, a sorcerer, a demon… but every time, he met the same cruel fate.Yet Elliot didn’t care. As long as he had his power, he would manipulate, deceive, and twist the world to his will. If the universe wanted to play games with him… then he would play to win.

Fang Ze traveled to the world of psychic forensics and activated the detection system.

Since then, the world has gained a crime-solving wizard. In just one year, Fang Ze became the captain of the police force.

Suspicious disappearance cases, corpse dismemberment cases without clues, heinous vampire cases…

With his keen judgment, Fang Ze relied on the assistance of the system to grow all the way.

With the passage of time, Fang Ze suddenly discovered that this world seems to be more than just a psychic forensic doctor…

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.