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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 · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
359 Chs

The Wolf on Campus

Rein sat at the crowded bar of Kat's Casino, a large gambling den opposite the Underground Bizarre from Club Quinn.

It had a very different vibe. It was a dimly lit room with booths in the back that read [Privacy Booths | 100 Skye for 20 minutes or 1 RP for 40 minutes & two drinks].

Each was a twin-sized mattress surrounded by four walls. It was simple but popular.

While sex was legal in Immortal Skye and not discouraged, everyone found having it difficult.

The residential mansions had bunkbeds with ten people sleeping in each room. So only those who had recently moved into the Executive or the Eminent—recently renamed from the Elite—and had their own room could have sex conveniently on campus.

There were 50 booths that the owner, Mandy Mitchell, a business-minded blonde, prioritized. She had already raised the price twice because it was sold out for four hours, delighting the investors.