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Playboy Cultivator in the Apocalypse

Kaze survived the apocalypse five millennia ago. Was crowned the emperor of the five planes. Dubbed leader of a harem of immortals. Enjoyed a truly flawless reputation. Evolved into a living legend. And declared a sex god. It was nearly reality. Becoming a god. A real one. Then... He lost it all. Got sent to the past. Transmigrated into his old body. 22 days before the apocalypse began. However, things would be different this time. Kaze had techniques and knowledge of the future. A chance to save his past lovers from death. Had the luxury of enjoying his power. So he decided to stick around. Build a lavish party base. Enjoy modern living. Live as a playboy. Dual cultivate. Love again. And so. Kaze acted. Built his reputation. Acquired wealth and fame. Trained, protected, and led mortals. Built an offensively decadent settlement. And partied it up in a monster-festered hellscape. ═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═ PlayCult is a serious apocalypse novel. However, it has frequent lemons, charm, romance, and humor. The story becomes faster-paced and increasingly action, adventure, and harem-focused as it progresses. Sexual content. No cheating; no yuri. #AbsurdlyFaithful ═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═ Harem | Dual Cultivation | Apocalypse | Transmigration | Survival | Kingdom Building | Romance | Lemons | Lemons | Lemons | FBI Unnecessary | Charming Sociopath | Dark | Comedy | Very Action | Much Adventure | New Tropes | Old Tropes | Best Tropes | All The Tropes | Except for the Bad Tropes | No Bad Tropes | There is a Yandere | You're Welcome

Margrave · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
359 Chs

August 16, 2032 | 15 Days Remaining | Unexpected Friendships

As dawn broke, the Lainwright soldiers stirred, roused by a divine scent they had never before experienced. It permeated their barracks, invigorating each of them with electrifying energy.

"What is that aroma?" Denzel muttered, already dressed. Lainwright soldiers were accustomed to waking early, so he, Eric, and Chen descended to the ground floor of their barracks. To their surprise, they discovered a sea of soldiers and Immortals had beat them, walking toward the scent like the undead, funneling into the mess halls past the town square.

While the Immortals had become accustomed to fine cuisine and soul meat, the Lainwright soldiers were not. Their last soul meat meal had been prepared haphazardly in colossal vats with minimal seasoning, resulting in a surprisingly appetizing gruel to enjoy at a shipping yard.

Still, it wasn't a fairy tale.