Personal Talent Showcase

No billionaire's wealth, no super-soldier serum, not even alien blood. Worse still, he was completely excluded from the standard handsome looks of a superhero.

He was practically the model tragic hero.

Wade Winston Wilson, former special forces soldier. To cure his cancer, he joined the Weapon X Program. Though he survived after being implanted with Wolverine's genes, the price was **.

In exchange, he gained astonishing durability and regenerative abilities—he could recover even after being chopped into pieces, though ugly scars would remain.

A firearms master and exceptional dual-blade fighter. He had an unreliable teleportation belt that often left his arms and legs behind during transport, so it was basically just decoration...

No one could understand Deadpool's thought process. Professor X had once tried to read his mind and nearly had his brain overloaded by the sheer volume of information. His moves could never be predicted, because even he himself did not know what his next move would be.

What concerned Li Chen most was that this chatterbox who broke the fourth wall actually knew he was living in a comic book and could chat with readers whenever he wanted.

"Hey~ President of the League of Heroes!" Deadpool spun one of his blades. "Some organizations were getting on my nerves chasing me around, so I came here to take refuge."

"Want to know why they're after me? Ha! It's because they keep dragging off my immortal body to slice it up for research. So annoying!"

"That black bat beside you reminds me of hard breakfast bread... But as long as you pay, I'll take any job. Wait! Special services not included!"

That machine-gun stream of dialogue finally made Li Chen understand why Spider-Man got along so well with this guy—they were both walking nonsense generators!

"If he keeps talking, my temples are going to start throbbing." 097 tapped his tactical goggles with his knuckles, making a crisp sound. Spider-Man suddenly pressed his elbow into the red-and-black-suited man's ribs. "Focus on demonstrating your core abilities. The League's admission assessment isn't a stand-up comedy special."

Deadpool suddenly froze as though someone had hit pause, then dramatically slapped his mask. "Damn it! I almost forgot the important stuff in the Sahara!" He spun around on the spot like a ballerina. "My résumé is simple: the first line says certified immortal body, and the second is human dismemberment magic—limited to myself only, mind you."

"Additional talents include, but are not limited to: ** digestive tract endoscopy performances and human deconstruction art exhibitions." As he spoke, he suddenly pulled a thread-bound ancient book from behind his waist. "I recently went to study under a master in Huaxia in a parallel universe, but..." His hand froze as he opened the yellowed pages. "I couldn't find any registration information for the League of Heroes in any universe."

Li Chen's pupils contracted slightly. Only he understood that this lunatic in red-and-black tights might have torn through the dimensional wall—those bizarre phrases were clearly memes transported from the real world. As for the League of Heroes? Neither the Marvel Cinematic Universe nor the main Earth-616 universe had ever possessed such an organization.

"Next is the personal talent showcase!" Deadpool suddenly pulled a Spalding basketball from his pocket, while a Sony radio slid out of the pocket on his other side at the same time. That seemingly ordinary tactical pocket appeared to be connected to quantum storage space.

"Allow me to introduce myself—" He placed one foot on the basketball and struck an opera-house debut pose. "A super trainee from Vancouver, Canada, with professional expertise spanning vocals, modern dance, freestyle rap, and NBA special training!"

When the addictive melody of Chicken You Too Beautiful exploded through the room, Deadpool's pelvis began swaying at a frequency that defied human ergonomics. The orange-red basketball left afterimages between his legs, and his professional dribbling skills paired with those outrageously suggestive dance moves precisely recreated a basketball idol immortalized by the internet.

"Baby baby baby baby—!"

Within three seconds, the air in the entire hall completely froze. Iron Man's faceplate automatically opened, revealing the twitching corner of his mouth. Batman's cape stiffened like a steel plate, while Spider-Man's fingers remained stuck on the radio switch, forgotten there.

"Stop this mental pollution immediately!" Spider-Man's ** cracked into a squeak as his palm slammed down on the speaker's pause button. The professional-level dribbling barely counted as a bonus, but those pretzel-twisted moves would definitely make the judges collectively raise red cards.

The League of Heroes' rankings only considered strength and achievements. Even if your basketball skills could crush James, they were completely meaningless. "But I'm showing off my talent. Wasn't it wonderful?"

"Wonderful my ass. You play ball like a girl."

"Everyone says that."

"Who taught you those moves?!"

"From another world," Deadpool answered carelessly. "Let me introduce this superstar who 'heals the sick and saves lives'~"

"A superstar?"

Peter Parker, Spider-Man, looked utterly confused. He had never heard of that title before. Besides, he never followed celebrities and knew nothing about the entertainment industry. And the phrase "heals the sick and saves lives" had nothing to do with a celebrity no matter how he thought about it.

"I heard there's someone who always hated celebrities, but made an exception for that man because he really did save lives."

"That day, many food poisoning victims arrived at the hospital too late and had already missed the best chance for treatment. Just when they were on the verge of death, that man's dancing made them vomit on the spot."

"And just like that, everyone was saved. They later all joined the Chicken You Too Beautiful Fan Club."

Though he did not quite understand, Spider-Man felt that this superstar really did have something unique about him. An ordinary person's dance could not make poisoned people throw up everything in their stomachs. From a certain perspective, it truly was a genius solution to food poisoning.

"Wait, President, Deadpool hasn't shown his real strength yet."

"Enough, enough. I get it."

"President, give him another chance."

"It's fine. I approve his membership."

"Seriously?!"

Spider-Man was somewhat surprised. He had assumed that after Deadpool's performance just now, there was no way he could pass the League of Heroes' review—that sight had been downright painful to watch.

But Peter actually looked forward to becoming colleagues with this guy he had just met yet somehow immediately clicked with. It would also conveniently keep him out of ** police pursuit. After all, asking the League of Heroes to hand someone over? Forget **—even the entire world put together would not be enough.

"Take this."

Li Chen casually tossed Deadpool a member wristband. Getting Batman and Deadpool for free was no loss. For the currently understaffed League of Heroes, they were decent additions to its combat strength.

"Peter, are you free recently?"

"Today's Friday. I have the weekend off. Is there a mission, President?"

"This mission is extremely serious. One mistake could trigger a global disaster."

"Is it really that serious...?"

Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man, grew solemn. This burden was somewhat heavy for him. After all, his past missions had only involved cracking down on street criminals, helping the elderly, or dealing with a few minor monsters. His greatest achievement had merely been temporarily suppressing the Demon-level Disaster—Deep Sea King.

"If this is a crisis that could affect the world, shouldn't ** or S-Class Heroes be handling it?"

"No. It will only become a global event after it has fully spread. During the initial stage, it can still be controlled."

"What exactly is going on, President?"

As the person who had recommended Spider-Man join the League of Heroes, Tony Stark, Iron Man, asked the question. Since he had brought this young man into the League, he naturally had to take responsibility for his safety. After all, Peter should not have been facing such a dangerous threat.

"Biological weapons. You should all be familiar with them."

"Wait, don't tell me some mad scientist is developing that kind of weapon, just like in the movies?"

"That's right, and it's already been developed. It could be deployed at any time."

"If its combat power is only like the movies, the problem won't be too serious. The troublesome part is its infectiousness."

Tony stroked his short beard and analyzed the matter calmly. This had to be stopped as soon as possible. Otherwise, if an outbreak like Resident Evil occurred, the consequences would be unimaginable.

"Will there be other heroes besides me?" Peter Parker, Spider-Man, asked. "To be honest... I might not be able to handle it alone."

If he failed, tens of billions might die. So he did not dare act overconfidently. The more reliable teammates they had, the better.

Li Chen understood Spider-Man's concerns. After all, he was still a high school student, and carrying out such a mission alone would be far too risky.

"Iron Man, Batman, Deadpool." Li Chen named several heroes. "Do you have anyone else to recommend?"

"I have an important informant willing to atone for her crimes—the world-class thief Catwoman."

"Mumen Rider would also be a good choice. He can assist us."

"Approved. Mumen Rider should be patrolling the streets of New York right now. Find him, then head immediately to Raccoon City."

### On the streets of New York, a crowd had gathered as though watching some excitement.

Mumen Rider, riding a bicycle with Doran's Shield strapped to his back, stopped during his patrol and looked toward the crowd.

There was a chaotic commotion outside the bank. Could someone be **?

Seeing this, Mumen Rider immediately braked his bicycle, grabbed Doran's Shield, and charged over.

"What happened? Is it a bank robbery or a monster **?"

"Oh, Mumen Rider!"

"Don't panic. There are no robbers and no monsters."

"We just saw a guy dressed like a bat fighting Iron Man."

"Huh?"

"Look! They're butting heads. It's quite a show."

"..."

Mumen Rider was full of question marks as he stood on tiptoe and peered into the crowd.

Batman stood in his cape while Iron Man wore his armor, the two glaring at each other outside the bank. The ** in the air was so intense that even passing dogs could smell it.

When other people were around, they could still put on an act. But whenever no one was watching, they would immediately argue red-faced over elementary-school topics like who was richer.

"Listen up, little bat. Stark Industries is the real **."

"Give me a break. Wayne Enterprises' underground vault alone could knock you out."

"I'm fourth on the Forbes list, and you're seventh!"

"That trashy ranking hasn't even assessed my family's **!"

The spectators were more excited than the people involved and were practically ready to open betting odds—though everyone had bet on Iron Man to win. After all, Batman only operated in Gotham. How could his popularity compare with an Avengers top star?

"What... is going on with them?"

"They're comparing whose wallet is thicker. So childish."

Mumen Rider had finally squeezed to the front and was about to ask Spider-Man when Deadpool, who had suddenly appeared, cut him off.

"I say they should just pull out cash and throw it at each other. Wouldn't that be satisfying?" The moment his snarky words fell, the two tycoons actually summoned ten burly men to withdraw cash on the spot, offering the astronomical moving fee of ten thousand dollars per hour.

Within just ten minutes, piles of dollars as tall as small hills had accumulated at Batman and Iron Man's feet. "What are they even doing?" Mumen Rider sighed, rubbing his forehead.

The usually shrewd Iron Man had actually gotten serious over such a childish game. Could this be the legendary case of incompatible horoscopes? Like Akainu and Kizaru from Marine Headquarters, who were simply born to clash.

"See that, kid? This is one hundred thousand dollars." Iron Man tossed the cash into the air, and his palm repulsor blasted out. The bills instantly turned to ash. "Now it's gone. Just that?"

Batman snorted and pulled a miniature flamethrower from his utility belt, bathing the millions in cash behind him in flames. "I can bury you in money."

Banknotes struck the other's face like snowflakes as the two wealthy men publicly began a "money war." Ordinary people could never imagine that the joy of the rich was so plain and unpretentious.

Though the onlookers were tempted, no one dared entertain any improper thoughts—in the United States, robbing that amount of money meant legally getting shot.

"Stop this farce." "Don't rush. This isn't a farce."

"Other than disrupting public order, what meaning does this money-throwing behavior have?" "Of course it has meaning."

Deadpool suddenly felt golden light flash before his eyes. In one swift step, he rushed into the scene, dropped to his knees, and frantically scooped up money. The sensation of green dollar bills brushing through his fingers made him so happy he nearly fainted.

Money! It was all money!