RE: My Dragon Girlfriend In The Dragonic Apocalypse - Chapter 1: Return

【Children, remember this. Among the fortunes of heaven and earth, three parts are the essence of literature, seven parts are martial, and one part determines the fate of the realm!】【...10...3+7+1... Hey? Ancestor, something seems off?】

A young man who wanted nothing but love from others died while talking to a mysterious author of his favourite novel.However, that wasn't the end for him, as he reincarnates in a Xianxia world with a Wish Fulfillment system. He can wish for anything, and it will be fulfilled.Finally, getting a chance to make his dream come true, he decided to make his own Divine Harem Sect where he would have a whole sect to love him.Of course, that also includes other type of love........“Huh!? What do you mean my disciples destroyed your sect? That's impossible! Don't you see how cute and kind they are? They are harmless!”“Hmm? My disciple flattened the Hollow Mountains? Don't joke around. Can't you see her sleeping peacefully in my lap?”“My dear disciples, why are you all lowering your robes? Wait! Why are you taking my clothes off? Well, now I can't do anything about this.”

Imagine having the opportunity to be able to enter different worlds created by numerous novels and stories. Which kind of role would you like to play?

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.”