The Death Knell

The huge planet exudes a vibrant light green light, as if it is a star itself and can shine. It looks beautiful and full of dreamlike beauty.

But its satellite is very ugly. Even if Su Ming uses the term "high emotional intelligence", he can only say that it looks like a brown bitter melon.

There is no other word that can keep the description accurate and be more tactful, because the way to say low emotional intelligence is that it really looks like a piece of shit, and a big one.

"Uh-huh. Huh-hey!"

Under the starlight, Wade, who was standing next to his cousin, kept making strange noises from his mouth, which sounded like a toothache or an itchy skin.

"What's wrong? If you have anything to say, just say it." Deathstroke glanced at the bitch from the corner of his eye. Although he knew that this was his cousin's way of attracting others' attention, he still had to ask.

"I'm thinking about one thing, Slade, look at this satellite. Its length should be larger than the diameter of our sun. So what kind of creature can poop such a long and thick shit? Could it be? The Court of Origin? I have found a little bit of the feeling of being a hunter, haha!"

The profession of hunter is almost the same as that of serial killers in some aspects. It is also divided into ambush type and stalking type, and the latter has a science that specializes in investigating the feces of prey.

It is said that an experienced hunter can know the type of animal that pooped, when it passed by, its size, age, gender, and direction by just pinching and smelling his fingers. gone.

So Deadpool is looking forward to it now. He thinks this satellite looks like shit, but it's actually a good sign that everyone can find clues.

"This is just the appearance it presents, stupid Deadpool." The cat crouched on Deathstroke's shoulder, looking at the weird-shaped satellite in front of him: "It may be a point, or it may be a face, or it may even be It’s a thought.”

If you look at this from the latest perspective, what you see at present is only the manifestation (The One), and its consciousness (Nous) is not like this. How people recognize it depends on many factors.

For example, knowledge, imagination, experience, external environmental influences, etc.

But this has nothing to do with Deadpool, he will definitely not understand.

"That is to say, in the seventh dimension, all the possibilities of the previous six dimensions will exist." Bobo added, but the way the little animal on his shoulder spoke really looked a bit like a psychic beast.

"I understand, I understand." Deadpool waved his palms in front of him, as if he knew what he knew: "I don't need to know such complicated things, I just know that there may be the only entrance, and that's enough."

"Then are you ready to lose your superpowers?" The cat asked again, looking up and down at the bitch in the red and black tights: "If you didn't have the ability to heal yourself, would you still be so brave?"

Superpowers in low dimensions may fail in high dimensions, which can be seen in five-dimensional people.

This feeling is a bit like Superman. When he is basking in the yellow sun on Earth, he is super powerful, but when Krypton is basking in the red sun, he is just an ordinary person.

"Haha, as soon as I opened my mouth, I realized that you haven't read my comics or movies about Uncle Deadpool. My immortality does not come from my self-healing ability at all."

Wade smiled crookedly. At this time, the shit-shaped satellite had almost occupied the entire field of view, and he was about to land, but he still had time to chat:

"As long as someone is obsessed with me, he will always be a legend. Do you want to die? Impossible. Marvel has a stupid brain to write me to death."

Popularity, popularity is the key. As long as the popularity is enough, there is no need to worry about Marvel cutting off its own cash cow. This is universal for any character.

"But maybe losing superpowers is also a problem, what do you think, Slade." Bobo asked Deathstroke, who had been silent. The latter was still playing the accordion and didn't seem too nervous.

Bobo didn't care. Although he was a little timid, it was mainly because he was afraid of pain, not because he was afraid of death.

If he died suddenly and felt no pain, it wouldn't matter to him, which is why he dared to follow the death knell here.

Because the enemies in the extra-dimensional space must be monsters, these things will most likely be very happy if they want to kill a three-dimensional creature like themselves.

Either nothing happens, or something happens very quickly. As long as Deathstroke is still alive afterwards, he will definitely find a way to resurrect himself, or arrange for himself to be reborn in death. What else is there to be afraid of?

"The concept is not affected much." Su Ming put down his hands and moved his neck from side to side: "And I have never relied much on superpowers. The difference between humans and animals lies in the brain."

Despite saying this, some humans are actually not as smart as Bobo, and Deadpool is an example.

Moreover, when entering high-dimensional combat, it is not enough to have ideas, but also to have the corresponding skills and strength.

"I hope so, but Slade, have you smelled it?" Bobo's face became a little ugly, and his facial features were squeezed together: "A stench, different from Deadpool's stench?"

The man's actions had already answered him, because the black and yellow mask seeped out from under the skin of his face and quickly covered his entire face.

"Obviously, the satellite we are approaching really stinks like shit, but don't be afraid, I've been prepared for it."

As the hoarse and sinister voice said this, Su Ming took out a bottle of Fengyoujing from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, grabbed Bobo, and poured a large puddle of green liquid under his nostrils.

Speaking of this bottle of Fengyoujing, it has a history. It was prepared by Deathstroke when he took Holloway to the morgue to investigate the corpse of the victim decades ago. However, he kept it until it was used up.

But today at least proved one thing, that is, if you make more preparations, you will always need it.

This thing is useful, at least Bobo won't have to worry about the smell in a short time. His expression is just a little painful, but he will get better once he gets used to it.

As for the cat, the solution is simpler. It doesn't need to breathe in the first place. It rubs its little pink nose with its paws, and the nostrils disappear.

Dreams are very malleable, but they look a bit ugly. At this time, Dream of a Thousand Cats feels a bit like Voldemort.

"What smell? Why don't I smell it?" Deadpool curiously lifted up his mask and took a deep breath frantically. His two nostrils expanded in a circle, inhaling the surrounding air like a whirlwind: "Really, there is no smell. , I can smell the burning hair on the orangutan’s body.”

As a hairy animal friend, Bobo is also a smoker, and it is inevitable that the hair on his body will occasionally get burned, so he does smell like fireworks.

But there was only a little bit, a stronger smell of tobacco and alcohol, and Deadpool didn't smell it at all.

"That means your nasal cancer has recurred again, but this is also a good thing." At this time, the boat made of black smoke had landed on the brown land. While Deathstroke was talking, he motioned to Wade to go down first to explore the way: "The sense of smell is temporarily disabled. , then the decision is yours, go ahead, damn Kachu!"

"Would you like to be the first to go down and step on the thunder? Then you have to pay more." Deadpool looked at the ground below that was as calm as a cesspit, he rubbed his face vigorously, and then made a request.

Su Ming nodded and asked the adjutant to take the time to add 500 credits to Deadpool while scanning the seventh dimension.

It seemed that the money was coming in quickly. After Wade heard the sound of gold coins falling in his head, he jumped off the black smoke boat with his katana in hand, and let out a war cry to boost his morale. .

"Pickup!"