The Legendary Moonlight Sculptor - SpinOff Part 3/3 - Who I always want by my side

I am Stephen, assistant to Vegapunk. After transmigrated to the One Piece world and failing in the attempt to take down Imu in collaboration with the Revolutionary Army, I unexpectedly found myself transmigrated again, this time to the Pokémon world.Although my body has become smaller, my mind remains as sharp as ever. My current identity is:The Chief Pokémon Professor of the Pokémon LeagueA mind 500 years ahead of its timeExecutive Vice-Leader of Team RocketThe second Master-level Trainer after Professor RowanThe benefactor recognized by Rayquaza as its successorHonorary Chairman of the Alola LeagueSupreme Commander of Dark Pokémon!

At her wedding banquet, a man claiming to be Selina's lover stormed in, brandishing so-called intimate photos and causing chaos.Selina immediately saw through this as a scheme orchestrated by her half-sister, Natalia. However, Selina's fiancé, Ryan, not only refused to believe her but also went out of his way to defend Natalia.It turned out that Ryan and Natalia had already developed feelings for each other in secret. Everyone—Selina's father, stepmother, and Ryan's parents—knew about their affair, except for Selina, who was left in the dark.Taking advantage of the situation, Selina's father suggested swapping brides, proposing that Natalia replace Selina and complete the wedding. Ryan's family not only didn’t object but wholeheartedly supported the idea.That was the moment Selina finally realized the cruel truth: her family and Ryan's family were nothing but wolves in sheep’s clothing!“Cancel the engagement? Fine. But let it be clear—I’m the one rejecting you, you two-timing, spineless excuse for a man!” Selina declared with unshakable confidence.Her gaze then swept across the room, landing on an elegant and distinguished man. She vaguely remembered him as Ryan’s younger uncle. Walking over, she boldly asked, “Sir, how about getting married?”The man raised an eyebrow, finding her audacity intriguing. “It would be my honor, madam,” he replied....

Su Qin crosses into a world where martial artists run rampant, where Buddhist monks from the Yuan Dynasty dominate the world. Jiuyang’s successor’s fist conquered the mountains and rivers, and Xiao Li’s flying knife smashed through the void.

Because Su Qin had no martial arts qualifications, he could only become a sweeping monk in the Shaolin Temple. At this time, the ‘Sign In System’ was activated.

Sign In in front of Buddha’s Golden Body, get [Buddha’s Palm].

Sign In in front of the Arhat Hall, get [Invincible Vajra Divine Art].

Sign in at the back mountain of Shaolin Temple, get [Golden Demon Body].

The Shaolin Temple was riddled with treasures, and you can sign in everywhere.

Su Qin decided that he would never leave the mountain without Signing In to everything in the Shaolin Temple. And so, he Signed In the Shaolin Temple for twenty whole years!

Twenty years later, the Shaolin Temple got mixed in the battle between the Righteous and Evil.

The Demons were fierce and powerful, they blatantly invaded the Shaolin Temple and were pushing forth with great force, but that is until they met Su Qin who was sweeping the floor…

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.”