American comic: From Beijing with Love, starting with a mutant.

"I chased you all the way from Canada to Los Angeles!"

Deadpool slammed his hands on the table, widening the white eye sockets on his mask.

"Two whole floors of offices! I fought my way through two floors with that human headlight! Even the Guardian got slashed twice by me!"

"Take another look at my teleportation belt!"

He angrily revealed the still-smoking metal device at his waist.

"Now only the right half of it can still light up; its technological sophistication has plummeted from a space teleporter to a heated back support. I worked so hard, and I didn't even smell the plastic seal on the contract cover!"

Stephen Chow swallowed the beef in his mouth. "So, you're saying you assaulted friendly staff, damaged foreign government facilities, used unidentified teleportation devices across borders, and even stormed into the manager's office with two knives?"

"Your background check materials, if you just flip through them randomly, will become an attachment for international investigations."

"What used to be a normal difficulty level has now been officially upgraded to hell mode. When the reviewer sees your file, the first thing they look for is a red pen, and then they need to find blood pressure medication."

The two white areas on Deadpool's mask shrank to two small dots. "Is it really that serious?"

"It's definitely much more serious than you think."

"The neighborhood committee director is a legitimate grassroots position, serving everyone from the very young to the very old. If you dared to attack even a foreign friendly organization with a knife, who would trust you to keep the key to the community activity room?"

Deadpool went around the table and grabbed Stephen Chow's arm, refusing to let go.

"Godfather, save me! I've wandered all my life, and now all I want is a work ID and a meal card—a stable job where I can get peanut oil during holidays!"

"Let go! If you spill this soup on my suit, that's malicious damage to a state employee's personal property!"

Deadpool released his grip, returned to his seat, and placed his hands neatly on his knees.

"As you say, leader, I fully accept the organization's ideological education."

"This attitude seems alright, we can try to persuade them again." Zhou Xingxing put down his chopsticks and took out a park map from his pocket and spread it out.

"Deep Blue Bio-Repair Company?"

"This is the Los Angeles branch of the Silver Peak Group. We'll clean it up tonight."

"What kind of cleaning are you referring to?"

"Both the literal and physical meanings are included."

Wade hunched his neck back, causing the chair to slide back half a meter.

"Godfather, we're just taking the civil service exam! Do we really need to jump straight into this kind of massive challenge? We could start by mediating neighborhood disputes, like persuading the unfortunate kid upstairs to stop playing basketball in the middle of the night. Can't we take it step by step and be more scientific?"

"If a person loses their dreams, what's the difference between them and a salted fish?"

"At least being a salted fish means you don't have to go out and get shot!"

"The first thing a neighborhood committee director must learn is to protect the residents in his jurisdiction!" Old Zhou pointed to the location of the cold storage on the map with the tip of his chopsticks.

"These so-called medical samples will be loaded onto trucks and transported away in the early morning. Nobody knows for sure how many people are inside or what their injuries are."

"In the community you'll be responsible for, if an elderly person is stuffed into a refrigerated truck with a sack over their head, are you going to fill out a handover form first, or are you going to rescue them first?"

Deadpool stood up and raised his right foot to step on the edge of the chair.

"How dare that mere Silver Peak Consortium harm the kind residents of my jurisdiction!"

He drew two swords from his back and raised them above his head, declaring, "Today, I, Wade Wilson, in the name of the alternate neighborhood committee director, swear to protect every kind-hearted resident who pays their property fees on time!"

The restaurant owner poked his head out from the kitchen, "The chair cushion cleaning fee is twenty dollars!"

Deadpool pulled his right foot back and stood up straight.

"This money will be deducted directly from my salary."

"You're still in the practical assessment phase; salary is still a long way off."

Deadpool, however, suddenly remembered something and leaned closer: "I've been here before. Can I tell you some secrets to get me a job sooner?"

"Oh?" Stephen Chow's eyes lit up. "Tell me about it."

"I once delivered a shipment there for a middleman."

"They paid quite a lot of money that time, $30,000 for one trip. The box was labeled dental medical equipment, but when we opened it, it was full of rifles, sonic grenades, and large-caliber tranquilizer darts."

"Tell me, which reputable dentist have you ever seen use sonic lasers to treat cavities?"

Deadpool pulled out a pen and paper from his pocket, drew a crooked rectangle on the table, and then added a few arrows next to it.

"There is an underground freight elevator behind the unloading platform. You have to swipe your internal card first, and then enter a six-digit dynamic password. The freight elevator can go directly to the second basement level. Behind the blue door on the east side, the regeneration factor compression agent is stored."

"That damn thing is really bad for me. Just one injection and my recovery speed drops from superhero level to the level of a regular office worker's weakness after staying up all night."

Stephen Chow reached out and turned the messy napkin in front of him.

"What exactly is this circle you drew?"

"This is a freight elevator."

"What about the line next to it?"

"That's a corridor."

"Then what is this big X?"

"A pressure-generating agent warehouse!"

"That's a good drawing, but don't draw it again next time."

Deadpool snatched the paper and scribbled a couple more strokes on it.

"There's actually another floor below the second basement level, marked B3 on the elevator panel, but I've only been to B2."

"Your intelligence is very effective; I'll give you an extra five points for practical application."

What's the maximum score?

"One thousand points."

"You didn't buy this rating system from some shady driving school, did you?"

"Enough with the nonsense, let's start assigning tasks." Old Zhou raised his hand. "You go in through this main gate and your main responsibility is to draw enemy fire from the front."

Deadpool pointed to himself, "You want me to go through the front lines alone?"

"Your red outfit looks festive. If you stand under the spotlight, the security cameras won't even bother to film you."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I sneaked into the underground experimental area from the unloading passage."

"So you, the manager, go through the employee entrance while I, an intern, have to rush to the main gate?"

"This is called a reasonable division of labor. The front gate should be reserved for people like you who represent the image of the unit, while the back gate is where the ability of leaders to go deep into the grassroots is truly tested."

"It feels so warm to be part of an organization, so warm that I almost want to call the police."

Zhou Xingxing folded the map and put it in his pocket, then tapped the table.

"Remember these rules for this operation: you are not allowed to touch any of the ordinary clerical or logistical staff who do not attack you."

"If anyone dares to fire at us first, they'll have to bear the consequences themselves."

"There are only three steps in the order of action: first, save lives; second, gather evidence; and finally, deal with the facilities. Remember, people must come first."

Deadpool raised his right hand and straightened his back: "What if the receptionist deliberately gave me the wrong directions?"

"Then ask me a second time, make sure you ask properly."

"What if the security guard pokes me with a stun gun?"

"Make him put the stun gun down first."

"What if he calls me ugly?"

"What they said is an objective fact, so you just have to hold it in."

"I have one last important question."

"Speak quickly if you have something to say."

"Could I take two computers with me when I leave?"

"Let's talk about it after we finish collecting evidence."

"What about the fancy coffee machine in the office?"

"Smash it."

"What about the cash found in the executives' drawers?"

"Don't even think about it, you must hand it all over."

Deadpool lowered his head and pressed each finger one by one.

"If this has to be sealed up and that has to be handed over, what's the point of me going to participate in a raid in the middle of the night?"

"I just want a stable job! Of course, all of this is contingent on you surviving this crisis..."

Just as Deadpool was about to express his opinion, seeing that he could really get a secure job, his tattered teleportation belt beeped twice.

"call out!"

The mutant mercenary vanished right before Stephen Chow's eyes.

Old Zhou slapped himself in the face. So all his rambling on and on was for nothing, and the kid just ran away?

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Thank you all for your continued support!

I've read all the comments, and they've suggested adding new characters, such as Uncle Ying, Yan Shuangying, Robot Man, and Professor Jiang Si from The God of Cookery. I need to think about how to handle that.

To avoid a significant sense of disconnect, I will conclude this chapter with a statistical explanation of Bureau 749 and mutants after Lao Zhou returns to China.

Those who have read this far are true fans, I'm going back to grinding!

Especially for those who love Yanzu and Yifei, if you've finished reading, please click to urge for more updates and send a free little gift~

(ﾉﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ Your support is Old Zhou's operating fund~