MTL - Undefeatable – League of Legends - v2 Chapter 1245 Active invasion!

A new work from the author of 'My Senior Brother is Too Steady', welcome to enjoy it!-------[Science Fiction Apocalypse Setting + Alone Cultivation Protagonist, Not a Mindless Feel-Good Story]This is a shattered world where human civilization barely gasps for air on a planet ravaged by the Blade Beast catastrophe, the flame of civilization in underground fortresses flickers intermittently, and human elites in space are brewing a final plan to strike back at the Blade Beasts, but the future of humanity is dimly lit by fading stars…“So,”a Mahayana Realm expert, who after cultivating alone for one hundred and twenty-five years failed his tribulation and became a Residual Soul in this 'peculiar' world, sighed deeply as he looked up to the sky:“What the hell does this have to do with me?!”

Attribute Classification: Overhead/Western Magic/Strong Attack/Sweet

- Description from novelbuddy

The last thing Ariel expected after a weekend of binge reading was to be transmigrated into the same novel as the evil secretary who was bound to be eliminated.“It's okay, I can just disappear from the main story line and live a peaceful life.”However her hopes were shattered when a system barged into her mind and pushed her to fulfil the dead secretary wishes. The top one, capture the male lead.As she saw the formidable man sitting in his office chair with leisure, the full time student Ariel who never had an experience wirh boys thought with dismay.'This is going to be a difficult task.'However, it was this or deathSo she plunged into the journey of seducing the male lead, unaware that once she gained his attention no one would be able to save her from his clutches......Transmigration. System. Multiple Love Interests with a focus on the alpha lead. Possessive, alpha Male Lead and lots of face slapping. Fast-paced.

“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.