That Mr. Sinister could recognize him didn't surprise Su Ming, after all, he knew this guy had been lurking in the United States for a long time, just under a false identity that Su Ming couldn't identify.
But even if he could identify him, Su Ming wouldn't mess with such a powerful mutant for no reason, as it would be very hard to gain any advantage.
Mr. Sinister's psychic abilities were similar to the White Queen's, with over 50 tons of telekinesis, speed above Mach 2, and self-healing abilities comparable to Wolverine.
He was also skilled in ancient combat techniques, and the red mark on his forehead could fire beams like Superman's heat vision.
A formidable opponent, but it seemed inevitable to face him now, especially since Namor's whereabouts were likely related to him.
But what about the strategy?
Mr. Sinister had virtually no weaknesses, and apart from martial arts and strength, Su Ming was at a disadvantage in all other aspects.
Besides, even with a plan, he couldn't let the doctor and the mage cooperate as their thoughts could be read, rendering everything futile.
In short, stall for a moment, wait for Wade to come back.
"Mr. Sinister, I never expected to meet you in a place like this."
A smile of indiscernible meaning appeared on Mr. Sinister's pale face as he flew out from the sea of fire with his hands behind his back, landing in front of Su Ming.
"There are always many things in this world that nobody can expect."
He spoke with a deep meaning, staring straight at the single eye on Deathstroke's mask.
Su Ming stepped forward, meeting his gaze, striving to capture his attention and prevent him from extracting information from the doctor and mage's minds.
It was unclear whether out of contempt or because he truly focused all his attention on Deathstroke, but Mr. Sinister seemed uninterested in the two of them and instead asked about something else.
"Was that court jester who just walked into my lab brought here by you?"
"Oh? I didn't notice. Can you describe it specifically?" Su Ming shook his head, pretending to help him analyze by asking for more details.
Mr. Sinister's pale skin twitched as he took a deep breath: "That was a..."
Just as he was having a friendly chat with Su Ming, there was a sudden sound of wind behind him. Driven by telekinesis, he glided over ten meters away, while Deadpool's dual blades struck the ground, scattering fragments.
"Tsk..."
Deadpool rolled on the ground, returning to Su Ming's side, expressing regret with a sound.
Su Ming also frowned; he had seen Deadpool sneaking back through the broken hole earlier, planning to divert their opponent's attention for a sneak attack.
Superpower users aren't scary, but those with martial arts skills are more troublesome.
"Despicable," Mr. Sinister's face immediately changed, floating in the air and saying coldly to the group: "A sneak attack from behind is not a gentlemanly act."
Deadpool immediately retorted, pointing his blade at Mr. Sinister: "You dead-faced British guy, Your Uncle Deadpool is an American cowboy. Was it you who stole my cow dung while I was out riding? What? You ate the cow dung? I knew you were into that! Every time you eat cow dung, you get so excited, and you even smashed my Uncle Deadpool's bones just now. Can't you save some energy for your wife?"
Mr. Sinister gritted his teeth almost to the point of breaking; this scoundrel dared to bring up his deceased wife, he had to die...
The confrontation had fully escalated, and Su Ming immediately started setting up. Under his control, the symbiote stealthily emerged from the gaps in his armor, forming a hand shape to signal the mage hiding on the other side of the mincer.
Anyway, whatever kind of magic Monac used, just choose the most powerful one to throw at the enemy, and it couldn't go wrong.
Monac pondered for a moment, then leveled his staff and began preparing a spell, obscure incantations swiftly flowing through his mind, as he felt his soul connect with a terrifying existence.
As usual, evil gods always lend first, then demand payment, and with hardly any obstruction, he completed the powerful magic.
"In the name of Excorion's icy tentacle, slow down!"
Since his previous Fireball Magic and others' bullets hadn't been effective, being blocked by an unseen power, he chose to connect with an ancient evil god this time, acquiring a colorless, shapeless slow curse.
Considering the opponent's remarkable speed, weakening it could create opportunities for their warriors.
If the mage opened his third eye, viewing the magic dimension, he would see a large net composed of writhing tentacles suspended above Monac's head, ready to strike.
He silently hid in the shadows behind the machine, the thick scent of blood crawling into his mind like rusted steel.
Now, he just needed to wait for Su Ming's signal.
Of course, Mr. Sinister immediately launched his attack, hating this jester in a red and black pajamas, he fired a thick energy beam from the red dot on his forehead towards Deadpool.
In an instant, the entire room was bathed in red, the terrifying energy leaving a large pit in the ground, big enough to fit both Deathstroke and Deadpool.
But Su Ming, well-prepared, dodged in time, while Wade's butt was slightly brushed, only sparking a little.
"Phew, hot, hot, shit, a part of my butt is cooked. Do you smell bacon roasting? Ah, my Wallace didn't get to live to witness this moment. Otherwise, it would love to taste a piece of my delicious rump tip, and it would certainly fall in love with me."
Rolling to dodge, Deadpool kept asking Su Ming if he smelled the aroma of his cooked flesh.
Su Ming didn't smell the aroma of bacon, but the stench from Deadpool, who hadn't bathed in years, was indeed being baked out, like burning substandard plastic slippers.
Feeding your pet your own meat is definitely a huge taboo in pet care...
"You left, I'll right." Su Ming wielded his dual swords, and with a burst of power from the magic floating cloak, he dashed towards Mr. Sinister with a whoosh. Now wasn't the time to banter with Wade, this wasn't some barbecue joint.
"Alright, I've bored myself again, haven't I? You'll never understand a chef's pursuit, deliciousness, fashion, that wonderful sensation exploding in your mouth... Do you like Italian coffee? How about seafood risotto?"
Deadpool somehow procured a white chef's hat and wore it, attaching a curled, Italian-styled fake mustache to his mask.
Speaking with an Italian-accented English, he grumbled at Su Ming while dual-wielding blades and guns to charge at Mr. Sinister.
After firing three shots, he put his hand in front of his mouth, gesturing, with his five fingers contracting and expanding like a chrysanthemum, mimicking the explosion of flavor molecules in the mouth.
Then his gun accidentally discharged, putting another hole in his cheek.
"Burp, the seasoning was just a bit spicy... but that's a minor detail for me, who often eats Mexican tacos. Last time, I ate a bottle of super hell demon chili sauce and had bloody stools for a week. Blood kept coming out the back, so I decided to see a doctor, hoping to find a cotton swab or something to plug it. But the doctor said I had stomach cancer, so I punched him right there. Your Uncle Deadpool is filled with cancer, and he only found one and wanted to charge me? Do you think he's a scammer?"
Like nothing happened, he used his tongue to push a shattered tooth out of the bullet hole, incessantly chattering while initiating a charge, albeit much slower than the cloak's speed, so he went from running to walking slowly after a few steps.
He's not going to win in a race anyway, so he didn't bother trying...