Top Star: Journey to Become a Global Star - Chapter 212. Duel (2)

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)

“Ding! Soulbinding has been successfully completed; you will now head to the Heaven Awaken World.” After hearing this, Zhao Fu’s vision darkened as he fell to the ground.

With bleak prospects in the real world, Zhao Fu’s life is turned around when countless crystals fell from the sky one night, which people could use to enter an alternate, game-like world. After obtaining an ancient Chinese empire’s legacy, Zhao Fu uses his intellect and resourcefulness to develop his own empire from a tiny village. However, with enemies both in the real world and in the Heaven Awaken World, he must make brilliant decisions and use creative schemes to survive.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”