A few minutes later, a middle-aged man walked into a secluded grove by the roadside, carrying a sack over his shoulder while practicing keepie-uppies as he walked.
He kicked around an irregular red ball that seemed glued to the top of his shoe, displaying breathtaking skill. If it had not been a rotting head, the scene would have been far more pleasing to the eye.
"My foolish little brother, don't you think my ball control looks like Henry's?"
Su Ming had Howard and the others leave first and told Gin to continue with the plan they had already set. Meanwhile, he carried Deadpool's corpse over his shoulder, kicked his head down the road, and asked Wade for his opinion with great interest.
After being kicked and slammed with knees, Wade finally remembered how terrifying his cousin was. He had forgotten that when he had been crazily trash-talking and trying to pull tricks on him earlier.
Could anyone blame him? His brain had long since been turned into a puddle by cancer. Was it not perfectly normal for him to forget things?
"Yes, exactly like him. You're the emperor of English football, all right? Put me down already, I'm going to throw up."
Wade's voice was full of agony. Never mind how he could speak with only a head and no lungs—he simply could. That was probably a superpower too.
"It's fine, go ahead and throw up. Your body is in the sack, and without a stomach, what could you possibly throw up?" Su Ming patted the headless corpse on his shoulder, flicked the ball high with his ankle, headed the flying head with the corpse, then let the ball drop back onto his foot.
Wade kept dry-heaving, bits of flesh falling from his face all along the way. "I was