America 1919 - Chapter 1243 - 425: The Formation of the Super Trust

Kyle broke free.He finally punched that guy in the face!But yeah, in return, he and his cronies would beat Kyle to death. Kind of a bad deal, but screw them anyway!He didn't regret punching this guy even once!However, just when Kyle was getting his face pushed in, a powerful Magic Lady intervened and offered him a job. Bit of a weird time to recruit someone, but sure.What was his job?He had to go to a different world and become its Overseer, whatever that meant. This entire deal seemed a bit shady.A world where one person can fight thousands of people.A world where gigantic beasts shattered mountains.Sadly, Kyle was just some random guy. He couldn't shatter mountains. Hell, he could barely fight a single guy.Well, that just meant he had to grow more powerful.And during Kyle's stay in that world, he would realize that he really liked the feeling of breaking stuff with his big hammer.Join Kyle on his journey to become the Strongest Hammer God.

When Xu Ying woke up in the post-apocalyptic world, she found herself back at eighteen years old in her previous life!Luckily, her portable space was filled with spoils from raiding supermarkets, including clothing, food, shelter, and various weapons and medicines.This made Xu Ying ecstatic.In an era of scarce resources and poverty, she had enough to ensure her family lived a good life.While other families favored sons over daughters, Xu's family had always cherished Xu Ying as their precious jewel. Having squandered a good hand in her previous life, she was determined to do better this time by kicking scumbags to the curb and tearing down the 'green tea' women, all while protecting her family and incidentally snagging the toughest man in the village!Huo Chen had a solitary nature and fearsome appearance, causing children to cry at the sight of him, but Xu Ying, who had honed her skills during the apocalypse, was not afraid of the notoriously fierce man at all.Xu Ying: What do you want to do? We're just partners.Huo Chen: You think you can seduce me and then run? No way.

He was supposed to transmigrate to a magic world, but due to an accident, he ended up trapped in a massive library. The system assigned him a task: for every book he read, he would be rewarded with mana stones, until he finished reading all the books. A trillion years later, Daniel finally finished the last book! [Ding, detecting that the host has finished the final book. Calculating system rewards.] [Ding, reward calculation complete. Dispatching rewards. The total number of mana stones the host has accumulated: 99999999...9999.] “Damn, am I that rich now?” [Ding, detecting that the host has completed the task. Loading world...] ... Goddess of Fate: “Daniel, my divine realm needs expansion. Could you sponsor me with some mana stones?” God of Storm: “Daniel, the divine punishment is about to descend. Could you lend me some power to help me get through it?”

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.”