MTL - Asking About Longevity - Chapter 672 Gods, humans and ghosts

“When the Lord Jesus comes for the second time, those who died in Christ’s name will be raised from the grave first.”

– “1 Thessalonians 4:16”

In 2019, an outbreak of zombie virus quickly swept the world within months.

Communications were interrupted, water and electricity support ceased, chemical plant leaked, nuclear power plant exploded, the world was reduced to be like hell on earth; without God, it became an era of legends and saviors, with the fire of survival instinct rekindled within mortals.

Resident Evil zombie-theme in ABO setting.

[SLOW BURN} (CHECK OUT MY NEW MAFIA ROMANCE. OUT NOW!)“You can't hurt me anymore, Ace. I'm not that crybaby you used to know,” she warned, taking a step back.“Who said anything about hurting anyone, darling? There's only one place I need to cry for me. One very,” his eyes trailed down her body, and stopped between her thighs. “Very moist place.” He took two steps forward, and closed the gap between them.Ace is the legitimate heir to the Atticus dynasty, but there's a condition. Grandpa before his death says he cannot fully inherit everything until he gets married, and stays married for at least a year.Quick to think, he finds a solution to his dilemma; A contract marriage. With the help of his personal assistant, Grant, He finds Fay Landon.Dainty Fay that cries a lot, and can talk a storm. He vows it's only a marriage of convenience, until the redhead let's her hair down, and shows him the woman behind the tears.She falls first, but he falls harder.In the middle of the war for a billion dollar empire, heartless Ace Atticus will learn that to come out victorious, he needs a Fay up his sleeve.THIRD MONTH OF WIN-WIN. PLEASE SUPPORT ME WITH YOUR VOTES, COLLECTIONS, REVIEWS, COMMENTS, AND GIFTS. THANK YOU.

Nicole d'Armand never expected to walk into her apartment and find her fiancé *bleep*-deep in another woman's lady bits. What's a girl to do?Well, after obliterating an 18th-century Meissen vase, delivering a punch that would make a heavyweight boxer proud, and embarking on a night of raucous drinking, Nicole figures she might as well embrace the chaos.But when alcohol and pheromones collide, her wild night spins into something unexpected... Like a ride on the Logan Everett express.Which, naturally, leads to a whirlwind of its own: She's his fated mate. Because of course she is.And he rejects her. Because of course he does.Now embroiled in a mystery bigger than her post-breakup hangover, Nicole finds herself the prime suspect in a murder she didn't commit—no matter how tempting the thought might have been. And the only person who believes her innocence? The same guy who shot down the idea of being her fated mate.Great. Just what she needed: her love life is a crime scene, and the man stupid enough to let her go is holding her freedom in his hands.

“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.