MTL - Rebirth of Glory and Splendour - Chapter 10 practice martial arts

I, Maehara Maki, someone who couldn’t make any acquaintances or friends in high school, finally had someone I can hang out with outside of school. A girl.

Her name was Asanagi-san. The boys in my class called her ‘The class’ second cutest girl’ behind her back.

On Fridays, she would refuse her best friend, Amami, ‘the cutest girl in class’ invitation just to hang out in my house with me.

Together, we played games, watched some movies, read some manga while eating junk foods like pizza and hamburgers, and chugging cola without a care in the world. To others, we may seem sloppy, but it was a precious, secret time together for Asanagi-san and myself.

The world is under invasion by creatures from another world. Martial arts became the most important skill in this world, and all cultivators strived to improve their skills.

Chen Yiming transmigrated to this world with a special ability – the Martial Arts Talent System. The system allowed him to use Skill Points to enhance his talents infinitely.

What if he was born with a physique that was not suitable for cultivating martial arts? He could slowly train in the mountains while waiting for his Skill Points to accumulate. When they reached a certain amount, he could use them to enhance his talent and automatically acquire the physique needed for cultivation.

What if he did not have the complete volume of the martial arts technique he practiced? It wasn’t a problem. With sufficient enhancement to his talents using Skill Points, he could automatically deduce the missing parts in the book.

With the Martial Arts Talent System, he could defeat everyone who got in his way. He could easily climb the ranks in the martial arts world – becoming the top disciple, the top cultivator, then the grandmaster.

“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.

He was a wealthy and mysterious financial backer who had appeared before her when she needed money the most. After the courtship, she took the money and left.