Getting $10 Trillion Out Of Nowhere - Chapter 1767: Can’t Hold It In Anymore

The Red Dragon came from the vast wild wastes, coveting all the strength in the world. It once had countless titles: Mountain's Wrathful Flame, Infernal Calamity, Crimson Emperor, Ashen Dragon......The world trembled under the shadow of the giant dragons. He stirred up the craze of the magic industrial revolution; in the empire he established, Wyverns roared, artillery fired in unison, and steel beasts appeared in the sky and on the land, while disasters from another world rampaged everywhere.“Submit, or die.”Cassius spread his wings, blotting out the sun, and gazed down at the trembling humans, elves, and dwarves below, saying thus.......It is a story about a Red Dragon with a player template conquering, ruling, and transforming an alternate world.(Pseudo of DnD, The Fourth Calamity, Red Dragon)

Young Jiang Tian has a great aptitude, but because of bloodline problems, he turned into a laughing stock and was suppressed!

At the most frustrating moment in life, fate suddenly reversed!

Relying on the mysterious magic weapon left by his mother, Jiang Tian merged with the blood of the savage dragon to rise strongly and crush all geniuses!

However, as he continued to grow, he found that the people and things around him were not that simple, and even the world was full of huge conspiracies and weird secrets!

- Description from MTL

Ye Qiu transmigrated to a world of barren wastelands. He obtained the 10,000 Fold Return System.

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.”