Young Master Fu’s Incredible Real Heiress - Chapter 112 - More Scandal Than Talent

You know what’s great? Turning eighteen.You know what’s not so great? Opening your eyes to a room you don’t know, followed by the world's most intense headache.This is how my story started. Where it goes from here is anyone's guess.---This is a Pokemon fanfic about a girl that gets brought into the Pokemon world from Earth.---This is my first time writing a fanfic so take it easy. Helpful criticism is appreciated and I may ask for suggestions but in the end I am writing this because I want to. I'm not sure what tags and genre will encompass this story but I will update it as it evolves.

Vampire Queen Shang Yu awoke at the auction house after a ten billion bid for her corpse.A gunfight broke out during transport and she stood up from her coffin.The scent of blood in the air was truly delightful!Her eyes fell upon the injured man and she tilted his chin, lightly kissing his wound:“You taste sweet.”…It’s said Shang Yu’s meteoric rise relied on men, but deeper digging revealed her aliases were all shocking, plus nine elder brothers and sisters who doted on her.She was known as the business world’s foremost abstinent queen.Yet she was photographed eagerly pressing a certain tycoon in a car, kissing him as he let her have her way.

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.”