MTL - Warhead Pet Hamster - Chapter 73 Mouse ball response

The Great Film Emperor, Ji Mian thinks that Young Master Xiao Jiashu is an arrogant, poison-mouthed, spoilt, rich snob who exploits his strong background to ruin people’s lives on a whim. But when he somehow obtains the ability to read minds, Ji Mian comes to realise that Xiao Jiashu is probably the most adorable person in the world.

This is a story about the rise of the acting-fanatic, Xiao Jiashu, as he silences his haters and wows the world with his magnificence.

- Description from Novelupdates

Felix was reincarnated as Lindarion Sunblade, a prince of Eldorath, destined for greatness—or so they say. In a world where magic, swordsmanship, and archery reign supreme, power is everything, and the strong shape history. But strength isn’t given, it’s earned.With a System awakening within him, one that pushes his limits with deadly quests sometimes, helps him with skills, and helps with forging weapons into legendary artifacts, he refuses to be just another noble in a gilded cage.Trials await, enemies lurk in the shadows, and even among his own kind, power breeds conflict.But he will rise. Not just as a prince—but as a ruler, a warrior, and a legend over the entire world.

“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.

After the ‘100-Year War’ between the Necromancers and Priests, an all-time genius who’ll shake the power structure was born. “Am I a rare case or something? Do I have talent?” A potential beyond all imagination. He obtained his father’s undead army and entered the great Necromancer school of Kizen that divided the continent. Geniuses are geniuses, even when gathered among the elites. The research community was flipped on its head by the appearance of a new case. Professors wouldn’t leave him be alone, wanting to make him study directly under them. Officials from all over the kingdom and heads of organizations fidgeted over whether to scout him. “Professor! When can I make a Lich?” “Gimme a break. How talented are you? You’re crossing the line, honestly.” A genius among geniuses had appeared.