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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 · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
359 Chs

[Un]Just Betrayal

Veronica walked from her mansion with a conspicuous neon purple backpack and a bitter expression.

Kaze took her through a spatial rift to her room to ensure people didn't see her exit the amphitheater back room. Her role required absolute secrecy.

"Hyperthymesic memory?" She laughed, "What a joke. I never realized how much I relied upon search engines until a highly competent, psychopathic serial killer teleported into my room, telling me he knew where everyone's room was because of a disorder no one's heard of.

Now, I can't look up the fancy word to verify his excuse's strength."

The black-haired woman strode near a group of nine other members to the skycruiser docking station, a massive 300-foot hanger with twenty black, private-jet-like crafts waiting.

"No…." Veronica laughed as she walked into the boarding line, "If it's true he doesn't forget anything, that's worse… so much worse."