The tycoon's eyes were filled with regret and despair. He desperately tried to scream, but only muffled whimpers escaped his lips before he was completely consumed by the shadow.
Watching the tycoon disappear, Number One seemed to finally understand why the leader had asked him to deliver that message.
"Hey, buddy, can you flip me over? I really don't want to lick the dust on the floor—there might be traces of excrement in it."
Number One looked down at the severed head on the ground, his heart filled with shock. A decapitated head was still alive.
He nudged the head with his foot, flipping it over. The previously destroyed face and eyes had already regenerated, though the face now looked as if it had been washed with acid—pitted and uneven.
"Oh, thanks! Although I don't appreciate the foot treatment, it's better than using my tongue.
Hey, man, even though you're quiet, I can tell from your eyes—you think my face looks like a rotten avocado," Deadpool joked, mocking himself.
Originally, he had planned to play dead and wait for these people to leave before reattaching his head.
But knowing it was Kino's men, he abandoned that plan.
Number Two walked over, dragging Deadpool by the ankle. "His body still has a pulse. What should we do?"
"Fill him with concrete and sink him to the bottom of the sea," Number One replied expressionlessly.
Hearing their conversation, Deadpool immediately panicked. While he might not die that way, the thought of being trapped in eternal darkness was terrifying.
"Wait, wait! I know the Demon King—Kino, right? We're awesome business partners!"
Deadpool shouted loudly.
The two men exchanged glances. Number One said, "Take him back to the base and report to the leader. If he's lying, give him to Dr. Banner as a test subject."
With Deadpool's head in his arms, Number One sank into the shadows.
"Oh, be gentle—this newly regenerated skin is delicate and sensitive. Also, buddy, your arms are so warm, it reminds me of my mom's hugs..."
Deadpool's endless chatter echoed in Number One's ears, causing his eye to twitch involuntarily.
He swore to the Demon King that if Deadpool was lying, his body would become an experiment, and his head would sleep with the fishes.
Elsewhere, in a hidden safe house—
"Dr. Banner, thank you for your cooperation. I'll return you to the banquet shortly," an assassin said, his tone filled with respect.
Dr. Banner watched the kidnapper sink into the shadows and shook his head in disappointment.
"I've had enough fun. Send me back to the lab."
At first, the novelty of the banquet had been amusing—beautiful women by his side, influential figures trying to win his favor.
But eventually, the conversations became repetitive and tedious:
"How's your research progress?""Are there any side effects from the serum?""Would you consider joining our company?""Interested in mentoring anyone?"
The endless greed and ambition wore him down.
The thrill of scientific discovery in the lab was far more appealing.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind—he hadn't seen Betty in a long time. He wondered how she was doing, a complex emotion rising within him.
The next day, the Demon Group acquired a large number of medical and cosmetic businesses at low prices.
At the same time, several homeless people appeared on the streets.
Kino had not killed the captured tycoons. Instead, he had kindly used healing potions to restore their health.
For the once-greedy elite, living without power or wealth was a punishment far worse than death.
In the once-crowded conference room of the Tycoon Alliance, several seats now sat empty—some members had not returned.
"What should we do? Toby and El were both targeted by the Demon King. I saw Billy begging on the street a few days ago," a wealthy man in the corner said, his voice trembling with fear.
"Maybe we should apologize to the Demon King. If he's willing to sell those... commoners medicine at low prices, he might forgive us."
"Right, we can just offer him a few of our companies. He must want that."
The room buzzed with fearful discussions.
Just as the alliance teetered on the edge of collapse, a loud slam on the table silenced everyone.
"Quiet!"
A burly tycoon glared fiercely at the others. His voice boomed through the room, silencing the chaos. He was the wealthiest among them and the elected leader of the alliance.
"But, Tom, the Demon King has already made his move. We can't fight him," someone protested.
"And the treatment and rejuvenation potions are about to hit the market. If we don't sell our assets now, it'll be too late."
"Not everyone is like you—we've invested most of our assets in pharmaceuticals and cosmetics. If the market collapses..."
The room filled with anxious voices.
Tom's expression darkened, his face as heavy as a storm cloud.
"Shut up!"
He roared again. "Panicking like headless flies won't solve anything!
We're still here, aren't we? That means something—the Demon King isn't willing to act openly against us.
Do you think begging will stop him from selling his potions?
If we surrender now, you'll all be paupers soon. Our only choice is to fight back or prepare to live on the streets!"
His words struck a chord. The image of their wealth crumbling fueled a new fire of anger and defiance.
The hesitant members stiffened their resolve, rising to prepare their next move.
As the others filed out, Tom remained in his seat, pulling out his phone.
"How's the liquidation of our medical and cosmetic assets?... Good. Cancel all partnerships in New York and arrange the fastest flight to Mexico. We're leaving."
After issuing his orders, Tom stood and walked toward the door.
Fight the Demon King? He wasn't that foolish.
Since the plan had failed, there was no point in continuing.
The others? Just useful pawns to take the hit for him.
The reason he had built such a vast empire was simple—he knew when to cut his losses.
Even if his assets shrank, as long as he had capital, he could rise again.
A smirk played on Tom's lips as he pushed open the door—only to freeze in shock.
A stranger stood before him.
His heart pounded in alarm, and his cautious smile faltered into a wary expression.
"Who are you?" Tom asked, trying to sound calm while his hand discreetly reached for the weapon at his waist.
"Lei Xiaogu, Executive President of the Demon Group," the stranger replied coldly, his eyes piercing through Tom's every move.
"The true test of power isn't how you rise—but how you survive the fall."
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