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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 · Kỳ huyễn
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
359 Chs

Strawberry Cake

Kiera returned to her room to prepare for her sleepover with Kaze with a fluttering heart.

However, the emotion abruptly changed when she entered the room and remembered her life.

Aside from a set of cheap cosmetics on her desk, everything in the room was provided by Immortal Skye.

Kiera looked into her closet and saw the other two shirts she owned. They were identical to the one was wearing—a loose black shirt.

Her dresser had two additional pairs of leggings, also identical to the ones she was wearing.

She dyed her hair once a month religiously.

The vibrancy of her hair popped against the black clothing, making it look like a personality quirk.

That way, no one would question why her attire never changed.

Kiera reached into her drawer, grabbed her standard black pair of bra and panties that were impossible to stain, and grabbed her pink pajama shirt and shorts.

It was a fast process, as there were no choices.