MTL - Rebirth: Degenerate Slave Abuses Tyrant - Chapter 451 and then pass the news

Takebayashi Ryouma, a 39 years old man with hidden past, found himself in a strange white room. The gods tell him that he has died and that they are sending his soul to a different world, a world where magic exists. After living alone for 3 years, his gamer soul loses its common sense and starts along crazy routes.

Martial arts and cultivation. Two different systems in a single world.

Fang Chen had reached the peak of power in the Grand Xia Empire. He was a mighty Qi Core Stage martial artist, and he led an army of 600 000. Yet he fell prey to the schemes of the Qingsong Empire, and he was defeated at Three World Mountain. His army fell; his vision was taken away from him; his sea qi was shattered, and he became nothing more than a cripple. In his final moment of clarity, a blazing sun and the figure of an immortal were burned into his mind.

The defeated general thus returned, only to face endless humiliation. However, something changed the day he was defeated—Fang Chen realized that his soul could leave his body and roam the world.

For five years, he endured mockery and insults. For five years, he observed everything going on around him without anyone knowing. Five years was neither a short nor long time, but it was enough for him to reach a state of enlightenment.

“Oh, there’s actually a fellow Daoist who received such enlightenment in such a small empire!” - Daoist Yun He, Central Continent Empire.

… Daoist Yun He raised his hand and sent a ray of spiritual light into Fang Chen’s forehead… Those memories constantly intertwined and gathered into a bright golden manual called the [Introduction to the Three Thousand Daos]

How will Fang Chen’s path change and what exciting adventure awaits? Follow Fang Chen in his path of cultivation to become an Immortal of the Nine Realms!

Official blurb:

The path to immortality is mysterious and strange, while humans remain insignificant. The hearts of immortals are as cold as frost. To them, all living beings are but little mayflies, frail and short-lived. Young Fang Chen stumbled upon this path of immortal ascension by chance. Even so, he had only one wish. With a divine sword in hand, Fang Chen wish to establish peace in the Nine Realms!

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He doesn’t know why his mind has been transferred into that of a petty thief named Soran within the VRMMO . The new ‘Soran’ though possesses both the body’s previous occupant’s memories and his own. Using his experience as a Legendary Rogue who had reached the apex known as the Realm of Legends, he will now have to survive in this world which had once been a game to him.

“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.