pertwk Chapter 306 A Good Knife
Chapter 306 A Good Knife
"Well."
Deadpool's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish thrown ashore.
His mind was still buzzing—
The information that was directly poured in by the Cold Dew was like a pot of boiling eight-treasure porridge, with all sorts of concepts, storylines, and origin settings mixed together, bubbling up in a sticky mess.
Okay, he does know a lot of things. Like, he's a cartoon character, and everyone around him is a cartoon character—
But that only applies to what he has experienced so far.
He can't just buy a Marvel comic book to read, so he can only see the present in many stories and can't see the future.
Otherwise, what's the point of playing?
His eyes—those two white, perpetually round lenses—were fixed on Hanlu.
The man in front of me was clearly not like any conventional character.
Deadpool's mind raced through everyone he knew, everyone he'd heard of, even those who'd only flashed across the background—
No, none at all.
He was certain that the other party must have a very powerful background.
They are either old characters from decades ago or newly introduced characters.
He didn't know anyway—
I recently heard that Marvel is going to collaborate with NetEase from the East, right?
They're probably some new character from over there.
Deadpool's body was still stuck in mid-air, his limbs outstretched in an extremely uncomfortable position, like a butterfly specimen pinned to a display board.
His fingers were still twitching slightly, and his toes were still instinctively trying to reach something—but there was nothing.
He wanted to show off, tell a joke, or at least roll his eyes, but he was hit hard on the first meeting and had no time to set up a scene.
So he could only helplessly and resignedly listen to the guy in front of him, like a student being punished by the teacher by being called to the office.
"Do you know?" Hanlu's voice continued to echo in his mind, unhurried, as if reading a script that had been written long ago, "Even if you really want to kill them now—to end your tragic life—what you kill is nothing more than a fabricated story they've created for you, isn't it?"
Deadpool's brain went blank for a moment.
Wait a minute—do you know what you're saying? Or do I know what you're saying?
His glasses narrowed slightly—a habitual gesture he made when he was thinking seriously.
Beneath the mask, his brow—if he even had brows—was furrowed into a tight knot.
Hanlu spoke calmly.
In fact, many life forms have already encountered problems at the multiverse level and above. For example, the Celestials—
How come the people of the First Sky are getting more and more powerful the more they fight?
Two more powerful figures who had been hiding in the shadows have joined the fray.
Especially for the primordial gods, they seemed to sense that within the entire Marvel Omniverse, there existed an extraordinary world—
It seemed to be more detached from other places.
They couldn't be sure exactly where that place was, but they were certain of one thing—
There's a group of guys secretly rewriting their origin story.
Putting aside everything else.
That audacious editorial team initially used "Beyond the Gods" as their pseudonym, but later changed it to "Celestial Group"—
Isn't it just that the Celestials successfully killed the Beyond Gods and then rose to power?
Using her knowledge, Hanlu quickly assessed the phenomenon.
Yeah, that's a really impressive technique.
But since they're so powerful, how could they possibly just sit idly by and watch Deadpool actually kill the Marvel editorial department?
Although the manga's ending does indeed depict the opposing side massacring the editorial department, it's quite obvious—
Later, Deadpool went on a rampage through the art universe, but he didn't get anything he wanted. Then, he even had a super Deadpool brawl with Deadpools from other universes—
I wonder how many Deadpools have died.
He looks a bit like Spider-Man.
However, it was clear that after the mist was cleared by the cold dew, Deadpool, who was already mentally unstable yet lucid, also began to become clear-headed in an instant.
In those increasingly crazed eyes, there was a hint of indulgence and despair.
But soon, this despair quietly disappeared, and in its place emerged a glimmer of hope.
He sobbed and stared intently at the man in front of him.
He was certain that this man or idol must have his own way of doing things, otherwise, why would you come here to argue with me?
Hanlu was very satisfied with the other party's current situation.
He snapped his fingers.
A soft "snap" sound.
The two people vanished from space in an instant and reappeared in some corner of the Earth in the same instant.
It was an abandoned parking lot, surrounded by rusty car wrecks and weeds.
The sky was overcast, but the air felt real—the wind carried the smells of earth and rust, and in the distance, there were birdsong, car horns, and the sounds of human life.
Deadpool's lungs were suddenly filled with oxygen, and his body returned to normal.
Deadpool's lungs were suddenly filled with oxygen, and his body returned to normal.
The suffocating feeling disappeared, the fear of being enveloped in a vacuum disappeared—he could speak again.
His mouth opened—
"Let me tell you—"
Hanlu pressed a finger against his mouth.
Think carefully before you say it.
Deadpool crashed again.
His mouth hung in mid-air, open, unable to close or shut.
His two white lenses blinked.
Then his shoulders slowly, very slowly relaxed.
His lips—if you could see them—slowly, very slowly, parted into a smile.
That was his unique smile from when he was a mercenary.
It wasn't a maniacal laugh, not a mad laugh, not the kind of laugh that says, "I don't care about anything anymore, so I'm going to kill everyone, including myself"—
It was a clear-headed, murderous smile, like a newly sharpened knife.
"So—" His voice was low and steady, so steady it was unlike him, "what do you want me to do?"
Hanlu smiled.
I've been waiting for this line.
"I want you to do what you're supposed to do. Because we have the same goal."
His gaze fell on Deadpool's mask, and there was something inexplicable, almost empathetic, in those black eyes. "I can't be sure if there's any kind of weird suppression or anything like that in that world."
So—once you get there, you can do whatever you want.
I just need you to give me a chance.
He paused.
"An opportunity to put pen to paper."
Deadpool's head began to spin rapidly.
His mind is actually quite sharp—he may be crazy, but he's not slow-witted.
He began to weigh the truthfulness of what the other person was saying.
The other person's strange friendliness and his polite manner at this moment made him stand out from the others who were obviously scheming and ambitious.
Marvel Editorial Department —
Such a great temptation could indeed lead to one's own death.
He tapped his fingers twice on his knee.
"Alright." His voice returned to its usual light, irritating, and punchable tone. "So now—employer—who do you need me to chop off first?"
He smiled as he sheathed his twin swords, the sound of the blades being neatly inserted into their sheaths on his back.
Then he held out a hand—not to shake hands, but to ask for money.
They were so skilled at hiring mercenaries that they seemed to have practiced it a thousand times.
Hanlu glanced at the muddy, charred uniform on the other person's body, which was ravaged by various battles, and could only patiently reach out and pat the outstretched palm.
"Just wait for my signal," he said. "But in this world—let's not keep killing like this, it's pointless anyway, isn't it?"
His tone was as if he were advising a husky that liked to destroy things.
"You can go and say goodbye to everyone around you. After all, you may be embarking on a great expedition."
After Hanlu finished speaking, she disappeared completely.
There was no light, no sound, and no special effects. It was just that kind of thing—
It was there one second, and gone the next. Like a TV being turned off.
---
Deadpool stood still.
The wind blew across the abandoned parking lot, swirling up a few tattered newspapers and plastic bags.
The newspapers tumbled through the air a few times before falling back to the ground.
His red uniform stood out starkly against the gray sky.
He turned around.
The city skyline in the distance was faintly visible through the thin mist.
Amidst the skyscrapers, a red and blue figure is swaying back and forth—it's not him, it's Spider-Man.
The little red spider was swinging from one building to another with light and skillful movements. Its silk shimmered in the sunlight and then disappeared.
Deadpool tilted his head.
Wait—didn't he just kill him?
His glasses squinted.
Then his lips slowly parted, revealing a smile that was uglier than crying, but it was indeed a smile.
"Interesting," he muttered to himself, his voice as soft as a breeze. "Really interesting."
He took his first step, looking at the long sword that had somehow returned to his hand.
"What a fine knife!"
Towards that city, towards those he had just killed, towards those farewells.
In the abandoned parking lot behind us, only the wind was still blowing.