Apocalypse: I have a supermarket stocked with supplies - Chapter 200 - Emitting an odor

After living a mundane life for seventy years, an ordinary man named Ethan dies.Only to awaken as Caelan Aetherisin,in a world beyond his wildest imagination. Reborn as a member of a prestigious vampire royal family, he finds himself entangled in the complex power dynamics of the vampire aristocracy. With five ancient vampire houses ruling the night, tensions brew beneath the surface—old rivalries, political machinations, and deep secrets threaten to tear them apart. Yet, as they face a looming, sinister force that threatens to annihilate their kind, alliances must be formed, and the balance of power will shift in unexpected ways.As the main character navigates his newfound immortality, he must master his powers, understand his role in this dangerous world, and deal with his growing harem—each member more mysterious and powerful than the last. But with desire comes darkness, and he will soon uncover disturbing truths about his family and the world of vampires.Warning: This story contains explicit adult themes, including violence, gore, and disturbing content (incest, and more). Reader discretion is advised.

Xiao Rou, a girl growing up in a poor countryside family, finds that she’s actually the daughter of a wealthy couple. Her mother had mistaken another girl for her back at the hospital. Thinking she would change from an ugly duckling to a noble swan and live happily ever after with her real family, reality strikes her in the face.

I, Ning Daoran, have achieved what I have today step by step, relying solely on my own efforts!

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.”