God of Slaughter - Chapter 23: The Tush Mercenary Union

An unexpected transmigration and upon opening her eyes, she encountered a sleazy man trying to take advantage. Considering Su Yu was the heir of medical studies, proficient in multiple martial arts. How could she endure such a great shame? Just as she was about to show some of her moves, someone heroically came to her rescue, though he was somewhat disabled, his good looks were undeniable.With nowhere else to go, Su Yu naturally had to offer herself in return. It was just a limp, and it happened to be her specialty.Watch how she heals her handsome husband and together with her family, happily engages in farming and grows wealthy...

Xiao Yijing returned to the real world from a narrow escape from the infinite world, and got the reward from the system – a group of unfinished buildings!

Although the unfinished building is in dilapidated condition and a lot of waste is waiting to be done, Xiao Yijing resolutely chooses to put it in ruins. Whoever likes to get a job will get a job, anyway, I won’t get a job!

When I have time to grow vegetables, raise chickens, herd cattle, and feed pigs, my small life is very nourishing.

Eh? Let me expand the scale of farming? ——No, it’s too troublesome!

What? Want to live here? ——Yes, you can settle the house by yourself.

ha? Do you want to help with work? ——Okay, you can handle it yourself!

By the time Xiao Yijing came back to her senses, the people who worked at their own expense had already gone to the sky, and the unfinished building was unknowingly revived!

(There is a male protagonist, but there are very few emotional scenes)

- Description from novelbuddy

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.