Deadpool knew vampires. After all, he had once been a Vampire Hunter. In his words, he could tell what those guys really were just by taking a whiff.
Of course, he was the one who defined them as enemies. They had merely been walking along peacefully and had not paid him any attention. He had gone up to greet them like they were old friends, then unleashed a barrage of trash talk. After successfully provoking their hostility, he accomplished the magnificent feat of killing six with one.
"Lord Dracula will not... urgh!" A burly vampire was pierced through the heart by Deadpool's blade. He had wanted to spit out a few threatening words, but Deadpool had no patience to listen.
After dealing with the vampires, he began circling the coffin they had been guarding, studying it.
The coffin was thick and heavy, and its material was difficult to identify. Its surface was covered in dense runes and bloodstains that appeared to be of varying ages.
Any normal person would have examined it carefully. Even without thinking, they would have known that whatever was inside the coffin was dangerous.
Someone more timid would probably have run as far away as possible.
But Deadpool was not normal, and his courage knew no bounds.
A huge coffin that could scare an ordinary person senseless only stirred his curiosity.
Words like caution and composure simply did not exist in Deadpool's dictionary. His behavior was a hundred thousand miles away from anything normal. He took two running steps, let out a shout, and launched into the air with an exceptionally graceful flying kick, striking the coffin lid.
There was a sharp crack...
"Urgh... my foot!"
His ankle had snapped completely, and his entire foot was bent sideways. All he could do was sit on the