Now it seemed that Tony and Peter Parker's talk was completely childish compared to the little bastard.
The strange thing was, with Deadpool's terrifying self-healing ability, he should logically be regrowing his body.
Not to mention a full upper body—at the very least, it should have reached his chest by now. But after a few hours, Deadpool's head remained just a head, with no signs of regeneration.
Staring at the faint poisonous circle around Deadpool's neck, Blaine fell into deep thought.
Since the Cursed Blood Knife's addition had reached level 10, its cursed poison had become colorless and tasteless. If Blaine hadn't known the blade carried cursed poison, he might never have noticed it. With poison involved, everything became easier to explain.
"Do you still feel a prickling pain in your neck? A little better than before, though, right?"
"Hey, how do you know?"
"That's right…" Blaine muttered softly.
After speaking, Blaine tossed Deadpool's head straight into the trash can in the yard.
Ever since meeting Deadpool, Blaine's ears felt like they'd grown twenty-eight calluses. In just a short time, he felt as though he'd already heard more words than in the entire year.
If he brought Deadpool into the house, then he wouldn't sleep tonight.
Anyway, the delivery wasn't until tomorrow. Letting him stay outside overnight was fine, Blaine thought.
And really, don't look at the trash can—Blaine almost never came to the yard except when landing after flights. So there was basically nothing inside, leaving it clean enough to serve as a dining table.
Thinking about it this way, Blaine didn't feel like he was targeting the mercenary anymore.
"Oh, shit, you shouldn't have thrown me in the trash can. I hate it here… I'll remember this, don't think I'll forget once my body grows back."
"Hey—no, really, why haven't you said anything? What trick did you use? Why can't I regrow… Hey, hey, hey—"
A loud slamming door answered him.
When Blaine closed the door, he had already guessed why Deadpool hadn't regenerated.
Naturally, it was because of the cursed poison. The Cursed Blood Knife was too overpowered—its toxin could even suppress Kunlun dragon bone.
Therefore, it stood to reason that it could suppress Deadpool's self-healing ability.
Of course, it was only suppression, not fatal. Thanos—the so-called "Mad Titan"—and Death herself, the cosmic entity, still outranked Blaine. They wouldn't allow Deadpool to truly die. With Blaine's current strength, he really couldn't do anything permanent to him.
Blaine understood it this way: the cursed poison and Death's influence on Deadpool's healing competed against each other, which explained why Deadpool wasn't regrowing his body.
However, one force wanes while the other grows. After all, the cursed poison had already left the Cursed Blood Knife and had no constant supply.
Sooner or later, Deadpool would regenerate. It was only a matter of time.
After washing up, Blaine put his Hunter suit into storage and lay down on the bed.
Unexpectedly, the fifteen billion was too easy to earn—it felt like a dream. From taking Deadpool's head to lying on the bed, excluding the back-and-forth travel and nonsense, it had taken only seconds.
Taking his head was as easy as picking up a courier.
He had thought it would take much more effort. Since Deadpool wasn't afraid of death, Blaine expected several rounds of fighting, maybe even a chance to see his bullet-dodging skills. Instead, Deadpool killed himself, blowing up right beside Blaine.
Imagining the fifteen billion that would arrive soon, Blaine quietly fell asleep.
He always drifted off quickly. By the time the first ray of sunlight touched his face the next morning, he was already awake.
After washing, he skipped breakfast and went straight to the backyard to deliver Deadpool's head.
Overnight, Deadpool's head had regrown a neck, but only that—no shoulders.
It showed just how potent the cursed poison truly was.
Looking at the invincible chatterbox, who wasn't worried about his own condition at all, Blaine heard the snoring rattling inside the trash can.
That day, the stadium and racecourse were unusually quiet—it seemed Wilson Fisk, known as Kingpin, had been absent for several days in a row.
No wonder they were willing to spend fifteen billion on just one head.
After leaving the yard, Blaine headed for the golf course lounge, where Bullseye was waiting early in the morning.
When Bullseye looked up and saw Blaine, his playful expression vanished instantly. Even from afar, Blaine could see the bruised black-and-blue tones on his face.
"Damn it, this kid actually killed Deadpool… he should've died there," Bullseye muttered.
He was still holding a grudge about Blaine disabling his arm last time. Bullseye was extremely resentful.
Blaine's mind-reading skills had already seen through Bullseye's thoughts. He sneered inwardly—don't let me catch an opportunity, or you'll pay for it.
"Blaine, Blaine, punctual as always. Hand it over, and your task is complete."
Though he cursed Blaine a hundred times in his heart, Bullseye didn't dare show it.
"Hmph. Don't forget—I want to see the money tomorrow."
Blaine snorted coldly and handed Deadpool's head to him.
"What the hell? Making noise this early in the morning, ruining people's sleep."
Deadpool's muffled voice came out from inside the bag.
"Huh? What's going on…?"
To confirm whether it was really Deadpool, Bullseye opened the bag—and was startled.
It was him, all right. But how was he still talking with only a head?
"What are you staring at? With that bullseye tattoo on your forehead, you really think you're Bullseye? Big head, thick neck—you're either trash or poultry."
"I gave you the head. You only hired me to bring it, so the rest is your problem."
Blaine was already laughing inside. Spending fifteen billion just to pick up a courier—there really were fools in this world.
"Don't worry, Blaine. In this business, we always keep our word."
Saying that, Bullseye grabbed Deadpool's head, turned, and left.
"Damn it, you didn't even kill this guy. That's wrong—really wrong. He can still insult me like this, just a head left."
"Wait till I get back. If you dare call me Bullseye again, I'll make you into a real target."
From a distance, Blaine wiped Bullseye's mind. It seemed Deadpool was in for a hard time today.
"You're petty, huh? Fine, I'll remember this. We'll meet again."
Even far away, Deadpool's voice still rang out.
Blaine believed it. With Deadpool's ability, money couldn't do a thing to him. Maybe he really would come back to kill him one day.
Still, one doubt lingered in Blaine's heart: why couldn't his mind-reading skills pick up Deadpool's thoughts?
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