Cherreads

What Do You Mean I Have To Comprehend Dao As A Mortal God?

Draekai
Six years ago, the very first portal appeared that carried mana into Earth, awakening powers within humans. Some used them for selfish reasons while others thought to use them for the betterment of society. Everything changed when monsters appeared through these portals and humanity had to fight back against them for our survival. Amongst them were individuals who had awakened godlike powers that came straight from mythology: A New Yorker who has multiple pairs of wings sprouting from his back while carrying a scroll and pen; A Ukrainian firefighter who controls fire with the embodiment of a primordial demon; and even a Japanese historian who wields lightning that materialises floating drums on his back. They were Mortal Gods, mortals that had the power of Gods and now stand above humanity to supposedly protect us from the monsters beyond the portal. I was just another normal awakened human who was about to meet my end when a jade book appeared in front of me. What do you mean I have to comprehend Dao?! *** Notes: Any R-rated scenes will be denoted by a '*' followed by an 'R' with the number of 'R's showing how much of it is R-rated. '*R' would be around 25%, '*RR' would be about 50% and '*RRR' would most likely be the entire chapter. MC is a male but there may be some intersex characters who may or may not be involved with the MC in the story so if that's also unacceptable to you then consider yourself warned. Also yes to harem. No to NTR. You can join our discord through this link: https://discord.gg/CRrb56c
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
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