MTL - My Youth Began With Him - Chapter 4871 The year of life (60)

This is the story of a young boy who steps into the world of immortals.If you love Fantasy and cultivation novels, then you can give it a shot.It will be slow paced in start, but I will try my best to not make it too slow, that it might become unbearable to read.The main character (MC) will be a lone individual, avoiding excessive social interactions, including friendships.This is my first novel, so please forgive any errors. I will do my best to make it as error-free as possible.Do remind me in the comments for any errors.

Zaiyila thought she had suffered enough—betrayed by her own mother and sold into marriage with a wealthy, aging man. But on the night of her pre-wedding ceremony, everything takes a dark and unexpected turn. A swarm of deadly snakes descends upon the gathering, killing her groom-to-be and throwing the hall into chaos. Fear spreads as the people recognize the serpents as the servants of the enigmatic and terrifying Snake King, Everett.When Everett himself arrives—a striking, horned man of unmatched beauty and power—Zaiyila finds herself drawn to him in ways she cannot explain. Despite the fear he inspires in others, she feels an unshakable connection to him, one that transcends the realm of logic. The moment she defies the fearful kneeling of the crowd, she unknowingly seals her fate.Taken into Everett’s domain, Zaiyila is forced to confront not only the dangerous, supernatural world she’s been thrust into but also the awakening desires she cannot deny. As she unravels the truth about her past and her connection to the Snake King, she must decide—will she resist the pull of destiny, or will she embrace the darkness and passion that Everett offers?A tale of betrayal, power, and an irresistible bond, Bride of the Serpent King explores the fine line between fear and desire, fate and choice.---

[2022 Science Fiction Starlight Award Word-of-mouth Good Book]

[Third Prize of 2022 Science Fiction Essay]

When a photo of the North Pole taken by a satellite was sent back to various countries, people on earth were shocked by the content of the photo.

They saw thousands of wolves in the North Pole, including hundreds of polar bears and arctic silver foxes, all bowing their heads in unison.

On the top of the snow-capped mountain, a giant arctic wolf whose size exceeds everyone’s imagination is overlooking the arctic ice sheet.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.