Huh? Isn't this an adventure kingdom building game?! - Chapter 161: Corpse Control Technique (First Update)

Traveling to Los Angeles in the 1990s, Roland Allen, who had been beaten by society, thought that he would live an ordinary life in this life, but just when he was about to change careers, reincarnation began——

The number of roles is all determined by default, so they are all related households everywhere?

Sorry, as long as the hoe is swung well, there is no corner that cannot be dug.

An introverted teenage girl with an unconventional superpower, Taylor goes out in costume to find escape from a deeply unhappy and frustrated civilian life. Her first attempt at taking down a supervillain sees her mistaken for one, thrusting her into the midst of the local ‘cape’ scene’s politics, unwritten rules, and ambiguous morals. As she risks life and limb, Taylor faces the dilemma of having to do the wrong things for the right reasons.

“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.

Euri was quite passionate about wanting to become a perfect corporate slave.But after being forced to explore the sentient game infesting his miniscreen, Euri realized that he had stumbled upon an opportunity anyone on the planet would kill for. While the entire human civilization on Planet Nen struggled to deal with the superior lifeforms plaguing the extraterrestrial planes beyond their world, Euri could compete with them all for power by just playing this game!A side-gig that didn’t conflict with his dream of climbing the corporate ladder—how generous can fortune be to bequeath this opportunity to him.Transcending the spatial laws, transcending human notion of cultivation, transcending the rules of Cosmic Development Bureau, Euri began a series of crazy experiments that could perhaps destroy the millennia-spanning schemes of the most advanced civilizations controlling the macrocosm.When interrogated about this fiasco, Euri answered the way a perfect corporate slave should. “Full credit for this goes to my boss, who provided me with the opportunity...”