MTL - The Martial Emperor with Dragon Blood - Chapter 25 : Ye Mo’s means

In the 900th millennium of humanity's journey towards the Star Sea, the unstoppable Expeditionary Army dominates the universe, and the fiery Age of Great Expansion nears its conclusion.Ancient cultivators seize mythology in pursuit of becoming sacred Buddhas; the new generation of prodigies shatter shackles, yearning to surpass limits!Yet, in a secluded corner of the vast cosmos, Qin Shi chooses to grind through countless achievements, unlocking one monument after another.Until reaching the pinnacle of evolution, the ultimate summit!

Billions of Humans transmigrated to another dimension, each became a Land Ruler at the start and owned a castle. Each Land Ruler would draw a random starting Soldier-type Building, used to arm their castles. Recruit more soldier-types, plunder resources, and dominate the world! Some drew the Sacred Palace of Knights from the start and commanded troops of knights to crush all obstacles in its way, ruling over vast lands. Some drew the Goblin Cave, developed castle trade, and became renowned dirty profiteers. Of course, more people only drew the most unremarkable soldier-types: Goblins, Lizard Man, Skeleton Soldiers…… These people could only kneel before the powerful Land Rulers and serve them as slaves. But Mike was an exception. His starter soldier-type building was, Dragon Nest! Glacial Dragon, Hellfire Dragon, Undead Dragon, Black Dragon…... When one after another dragon egg appeared before Mike, he suddenly felt that…...conquering the World seemed quite manageable?

Lynn traversed the multiverse and was reborn as a half-blood devil.Fortunately, he awakened a system that allowed him to...

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.”