I Have a Mansion in the Post-apocalyptic World - Chapter 169 - You should thank me

I have experienced all the eight sufferings of this world.

I do not ask for nirvana, but for you.

Wild and hard-to-tame demon (gong) x cold, ascetic and childish immortal (shou)

- Description from Novelupdates

R18 ( No One 17 and Under Admitted )Hot college girls, Milfs, Married Women with chad overpowered MCThere will be lots of cool fights and action with juicy hot sex and Netori sex scenes.Jaden was a loner, an introvert bullied to the point of death. In his final moments, he wished for a life where he could be the main characterThat wish was granted, and Jaden was reincarnated as Austin, a tall, handsome, and irresistibly attractive college student in a sexually driven world where everything revolves around pleasureIn this new world, Austin quickly realizes that sex isn't just a way of life—it's a source of his super power.Every sexual encounter makes him stronger, faster, and more capableAustin soon discovers that with the help of his newly found powers he has to fight the evil forces that threaten the world along side his hot girls

One day, a gallery appeared before my eyes.…And then I was able to see who wrote in the gallery.All the heroines are ‘virg*ns’.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”