Something feels off," Deadpool scratched his cheek, stroked his chin, and began to monologue.
"It all started six days ago. The sky was clear, and my bowels were clear, probably because I ate a banana. Speaking of bananas, want to see my curved... Ah, sorry, the author won't let me drive. See that asterisk? Did you think the River Crab God was showing off his power? Naive! The dog author replaced it himself. Since when was 'bowels' a sensitive word? The dog author is such a prude. Alright, can't complain about the dead fat otaku too much, or even my immortality will be written to death."
"Getting back to the point. Uh, what was I going to say earlier? Never mind, it's not important. What's important is what I'm about to say."
"Do you know Margaret? It's a mercenary talent market disguised as a bar. You don't? That's normal. It's a cramped little bar, full of rough men, no imported liquor—I can tolerate that much. But the pitifully few women are all (??), not a single (⊙γ⊙) among them, all of them are... Can you tolerate that? Then I heard the Continental Hotel next door had a bounty of thirty million U.S. dollars. Motherf*cker! What's my catchphrase?—'I don't haggle.' What the hell, a single job is only a few hundred or thousand dollars, what's there to haggle about?"
"I'm just curious, what kind of target is worth thirty million U.S. dollars? A 24K gold banana with two ruby pigeon eggs?"
"Oh, wow, the human-shaped thirty million U.S. dollars seems to have seen me. Besides being a bit handsome, there's nothing special about him. The dog author set him up as a playboy but then got scared of female fists striking hard, so he hastily arranged a female lead. My goodness, he wants to act innocent but can't help but sneak a bite. Isn't that sneaky? Doesn't that make you mad? You don't know what I'm talking about, do you? It's okay, ignorance is bliss. If you knew you were just a character in a novel or comic, mental breakdown would be the normal reaction. For someone like me, who's clear-headed, I'm treated like a lunatic. Oh-hoo!"
"Huh, why is everyone looking at me? And shyly saying, it's my turn to appear!"
Deadpool took a big leap forward.
Bang!
The Russia warrior blew the smoke from his gun barrel: "Lunatic!"
Deadpool, of course, wouldn't die just like that. Judging from his protruding backside and the way he clamped his legs together, that shot might have had a castrating effect.
Don't panic, it can grow back.
But how to put it, pity for one's kind... All the males present instinctively clamped their legs together in an inward stance. Their gazes towards the Russia warrior were off: nearly six feet three inches tall, he could have shot anywhere else, but he had to aim for the crotch.
Others looked at him unkindly, but the big man didn't back down, sticking out his neck, "What are you looking at! Want a bullet?!"
A typical Russia warrior style.
No one answered.
It wasn't that they were afraid of him.
Once a conflict broke out, the hard-won alliance would fall apart.
No one had absolute confidence in facing Mike alone.
Silence fell for a moment.
Until, Deadpool, with his butt sticking out, shakily raised one hand:
"Wait!"
"Please, everyone, don't let blood flow for my sake!!!"
Deadpool's tone was mournful.
The air solidified.
The scene was comical.
Deadpool slowly stood up.
His expression was a mix of pain and pleasure.
He stuck one hand into his pants.
Pulled!
He pulled out a thickened stainless steel basin, with a blooming bullet embedded in it.
"…" × N.
This move stunned everyone.
This groin guard was truly a mudslide in the biological World, so impactful that their worldview was about to be rewritten.
Mike: "…"
It felt like a poetry recitation program had suddenly switched to a bizarre convention.
The style abruptly changed.
What to do?
Should he just slice Deadpool open with a single strike?
Or should he let him continue to court death, waiting for others to lose patience and chop him?
Anyway, he would eventually be chopped.
Anyway, he probably wouldn't die nine out of ten times.
"This young man…" Suddenly, Deadpool looked at Mike with a shy expression, "Are you interested in exchanging contact information? You look very suitable for cross-dressing, you know. Is anyone else here interested? Everyone is welcome to join the Cross-Dressing Enthusiasts Club…"
Bang!
A loud bang.
The Russia warrior pulled the trigger. It was the same pistol, but after the bullet left the barrel, it transformed into a grenade the size of a goose egg.
It seemed this was the Russia warrior's ability.
Just imagining the scene of a machine gun raining down grenades was very Russia style.
This shot directly blew Deadpool's head off like a habit.
The World was quiet again.
The Black-Clad Ninja threw a smoke bomb on the ground and disappeared from sight.
Mike actually wanted to tell them that putting on grass camouflage and crawling forward to approach the target wasn't ninja-like at all.
If it were Momochi Zabuza using Water Release: Water Dragon Bullet, he would teach them a lesson.
The ninjas' "disappearance" meant the battle had begun.
A fight to the death.
The Russia warrior was the first to shoot at Mike; he couldn't hold back any longer.
He emptied his clip in one go.
About ten "goose eggs" flew towards Mike.
Perhaps because the bullets became larger, their speed slowed down, and their accuracy suffered greatly—or perhaps the big man's marksmanship was inherently a matter of chance.
Mike advanced instead of retreating, charging through the grenades.
Violent explosions erupted behind him.
Shockwaves surged.
Mike swung his nichirin blade diagonally.
The knight, wearing medieval plate armor, was encased in thick plate armor, like a can.
Hmm, from now on, he'll be called the Canned Knight.
The Canned Knight's greatsword in both hands glowed faintly White, parrying Mike's long blade.
Mike kicked the plate armor.
The plate armor radiated White light.
The Canned Knight retreated two steps.
Mike's calf felt numb.
"Damage reflection armor?"
"Awesome!"
Mike gave a thumbs up.
The Canned Knight held his greatsword upright in front of him, reciting the Eight Virtues of Chivalry: "Humility, Honor, Sacrifice, Valor, Compassion, Honesty, Justice, Spirituality."
The Canned Knight became a glowing light bulb.
The Russia warrior broke out in a cold sweat, dropped his pistol, and gripped his machine gun tightly.
The Dragon Tattooed Asian took off his shirt, his body muscular and exceptionally lean. The azure Nine-Headed Dragon on his body turned red, its eyes gleaming, as if it had come alive.
Steam billowed from behind the Exoskeleton Armored Masked Man.
Full power.
Several dark drones rose into the sky.
Silently.
Like venomous snakes lurking in the air.
The operator was clearly the fat otaku scurrying away with his sausage legs.
As for the native covered in body paint… He ignored everyone, knelt on the ground, took out a bone, and carved wounds on his body, chanting in an ancient language, seemingly praying to his deity.
"Sure enough, there are no small fries left at the end. They all have some tricks up their sleeves. If I don't get serious, I might capsize in the gutter." Mike pulled out Senbonzakura, bit it in his mouth, held a refined steel katana in his left hand, and a nichirin blade in his right.
"Time to try out Zoro's other moves!"
Black Armament Haki covered Mike's hands.
"Three-Sword Style: 108 Pound Phoenix!"
A blue slash flew towards the fat otaku.
A fat otaku, whose combat power was less than that of a single goose, yet he was among the top assassins on the continent, which meant his drones were very powerful.
First, take out the operator.
If it were a one-on-one fight, he could send the fat otaku a 'cold song' right now.
However, it wasn't.
"Sacrifice, Compassion!" The Canned Light Bulb Knight blocked the path of the slash.
Bang!
The slash directly hit the Canned Light Bulb Knight, who glowed intensely.
He slid back three or four meters, carving two trenches in the grass.
The strange thing was, the slash turned around and attacked Mike. Its power, speed, and angle were perfectly replicated one-to-one.
This is unscientific!