MTL - Empress: My Husband Killed The Immortal Emperor After 10 Years Of Seclusion - Chapter 414 test defense

(MATURE CONTENT)Threesome arc? - Right hereA weak, adorable, and low self-esteemed MC with an awful past, a trauma breaking him down every second and controling his life, just before he meets his 'suns', and later gains confidence and starts loving himself again arc? - Right here. Yeah, you read that right.Twin brothers who radiate like the sun and are very possessive of the MC, putting his happiness above everything arc? Gosh, look no further, you're in the right place.This story is just for you, so open it and read to your heart's content.******SynopsisI was just a no-name photographer who was trying hard to make a living, but then I got tangled with 'them'.My life, as it was, had always been nothing but a nightmare, living a cursed life that wasn't fit to be called a life.I had no chances with love, connections, or anything. Nothing! And after drawing my last straw, trying to make a final effort that would maybe lead me somewhere other than dirt, I met them again.They - the twins - were my childhood friends whose lives I had ruined with my presence, and I was scared to ruin it a second time, so I tried to stay away from them but... They had other plans.'When angels dream.'That was what I called the picture. The beautiful portrait was filled with serenity as that blond Italian man gazed into the distance and was showered with the soft petals of cherry blossom.The beautiful picture I had 'stolen'. Yeah, that's the word. I stole it because I didn't ask for permission first.But this is how it unfolded.At first, I took the picture without asking because I was so mesmerized by the scenery, and completely breathtaking, but then I got caught but it wasn't by the same man.They looked alike and wore the same clothes but I could tell right away that he wasn't him.Nevertheless, I apologized.“I'm deeply sorry.” I said but then, the man whom I had stolen a picture from walked up behind me and said,“To think such a day would come.” I turned around and blinked, looking at the man in front of me and then at the one behind me.They were identical twins. And not only that ... My heart shook... They looked like the twins I had known back then.“What's the matter?” The one in front asked with a bright smile that I was so compelled to take a picture of him and I did.He blinked at my confused expression and then burst out laughing.A sweet and cheerful laugh that made me blush. he looked really handsome. They both did, with their blonde hair which shone like gold with the suns radiation and a charming smile.I found my heart racing at the mere sight of that smile and almost forgot the situation I was in.“I see you haven't changed at all.” He suddenly said, swiped my hair back and added, softly, “Hyung.”My eyes widened. These two... It couldn't be... They weren't the twins, right? The twins that I knew. They... How did this happen? I just wanted a picture, that's all.

This world is not only as the public knows it; there is an underworld that ordinary people don't encounter.Government agents handle troubles in the shadows, while corporate assassins privately deal with issues.Assassins, mercenaries, arms dealers, and spies exist, along with a dark web that ties this world together, and tycoons who attempt to control everything with money.Gao Yi entered the underworld, unbeatable in close combat, carving out his own domain.But there are guns in this world. Beyond seven steps (close combats), guns are faster.Within seven steps, guns are both accurate and quick.Only within three steps does Gao Yi's punch become faster.Unable to beat them, he chose to join them, aiming to rule them all.To rule everything, become the king of killers in the eyes of mercenaries, the king of spies in the eyes of assassins, the king of killers in the eyes of spies, and the king of intelligence in the eyes of arms dealers.Until he is crowned king by the entire underworld, Gao Yi is the ultimate firepower.

The protagonist is a guy who is among the stupidest of the stupidest in the school. In this school, your grades can, under the supervision of teachers, take a virtual form to do combat! However, if you leave an examination half way, you get zero marks. A bright and cute girl, Mizuki Himeji, was having a high fever during the examination. Despite her potential to be the second highest scorer in the level, she obtained zero marks for having left due to her illness and is thus allocated to the worst class, class F.

Grades mean almost everything. For Class A, they have a smart-looking teacher, a plasma TV as big as the entire wall as their blackboard, personal laptops, personal air-cons, refrigerators, adjustable seats and all kinds of different appliances. Within the refrigerator, there are all kinds of drinks and snacks. Their ceiling is made of glass, the wall lets them put up high-class drawings and plants.

As for Class F, the worst class… They have Japanese desks and seat paddings. Their blackboard is dirty and there is no chalk even! Someone complains that the legs of his desk are broken, so the teacher asks, “Didn’t we distribute some glue to stick wood together? Glue it back yourself later.” Another one complains that wind is blowing in from the broken window. The teacher says, “I got it. I will apply for plastic bags and invisible glue to fix it later.” There are spider webs everywhere, not a patch of the wall is clean. A unique moldy smell spreads across the entire room; it must be from the old tatamis used to tile the floor. This is the status of class F.

The protagonist feels displeased at such an arrangement, and seeks help from his friends to try to make a change through summoning war!! And they devise all kinds of plans to try to beat the famous class A, intending to get class A’s classroom and equipment if they win!!

“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.