MTL - Pokemon Black Fantasy - Chapter 130 :Operation

Bibi Dong, once the powerful Supreme Pontiff, never expected to be reborn—especially not as someone else's martial spirit. In this new life, she finds herself bound to a young soul master with great potential but little knowledge of the powerful spirit within him.As Bibi Dong guides her host, she must confront her past mistakes and figure out why she was given this second chance. Is it to correct her past, or is there something more at play?

Transmigrated to the fantasy medieval continent, Luo De becomes the lord of the desolate Northern Territory.This land is savage and primitive, with rampant robbers and terrifying Magical Beasts.Fortunately, Luo De can develop the territory to unlock entries, gaining knowledge and Extraordinary abilities.[Hammered the iron a thousand times, unlocking entry: Forge Power][Forge Power (White): Increase base strength by 20%][Load?]“Load.”

While trying to survive, Eddie needs to create his Serum. But, all these works make his life pressure continues to grow.Especially after he meets Ada Wong.All he can do is 'Fighting' with the female Wesker to calm the stress.As for Alex, Jill, and Rebecca. Eddie *cough* does not know them... Maybe just friends that like to hang out and drink coffee together?Wait... You tell me they all had children?In the future?Ah, I see... Still, who is the children's father?

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.”