331-335

Chapter 331: One After Another 

Amon Zachary, who once ran a small construction company, sued Stagg Tower three years ago for allegedly plagiarizing his architectural design ideas. He's currently in a prolonged legal battle with Stagg Industries' legal team. The court, under the influence of money, has recessed three times without a resolution. His construction company, unable to afford further legal battles, went bankrupt after its capital chain broke, and is now highly likely to lose the case. 

Rand Gilbert, a former employee of Stagg Engineering, sued Stagg five years ago, accusing him of illegally seizing three of his engineering invention patents. However, Stagg directly bribed his lawyer, leading to a swift loss, after which Stagg countersued him for blackmail. He is now highly likely to lose the case. 

Darlene Reagan, a former junior manager in Stagg Pharmaceuticals' sales department, sued Stagg a year ago, accusing him of workplace sexual harassment against multiple female colleagues. She was instantly fired, and multiple female colleagues testified for Stagg, stating that Darlene's accusations were false and that they had never been harassed. Darlene quickly lost her case and was simultaneously countersued for defamation. 

As he read through example after example, name after name, Denton felt appalled. In the past, he was engrossed in his research. The company strictly prohibited discussions of these sensitive cases internally, and externally, they spent heavily to bribe the media, preventing information from spreading. As a result, having spent years in the laboratory, he had no memory of these cases, and had never even heard the names of these plaintiffs. 

"Darlene... I have no impression at all." 

He read on, reaching the end of the document, where the victim count reached over a hundred, and Stagg himself was involved in over two hundred lawsuits. 

Just then, his phone rang again. 

"Ring, ring, ring—" 

He looked at the call; it was still the "Unknown Number." After a moment's thought, he answered it directly. This time, the voice was a synthesized electronic tone from a voice changer. 

"Hello?" 

"Your call this time is quite polite," Denton said to the other end of the line, "but that doesn't hide the fact that you've been tracking and investigating me—you were in the venue just now, weren't you? You knew I was about to act, so you just happened to call me." 

"There are surveillance cameras at the entrance; I don't need to be there in person," the electronic voice replied. "And don't misunderstand, I'm not just targeting you; I've investigated the information of over a hundred people." 

"As you've seen, every one of them is a victim whose interests were harmed by Stagg. Of course, there are also righteous individuals who couldn't stand by and watch his actions. The common point is that they were all beaten into submission by Stagg through legal means, unable to fight back." 

"Are you one of them?" 

"You don't need to trouble yourself trying to find me. The point is, if you fight alone within the rules, none of you can win against a powerful and influential billionaire. But if an ordinary person becomes enraged and seeks bloody revenge, your lives will also be ruined along with his." 

At this point, Denton thought of Elizabeth and couldn't help but reply through gritted teeth, "I won't be ruined with him!" 

"If your ability was invincibility instead of duplication, that statement would hold some truth." 

Denton's expression suddenly changed. 

"How about using it to do some good? Denton, your original purpose for cloning research wasn't for robbery or murder, was it?" 

Hearing this, he fell silent. 

Curing Elizabeth and countless other suffering individuals, then achieving fame and being recorded in medical textbooks, perhaps even winning this year's Nobel Prize in Medicine. 

This was the beautiful life he had envisioned. If Stagg hadn't usurped all his achievements, this life might even have become a reality. 

"What do you want me to do?" Denton asked. 

"I'll send you another file with the contact information and case details of these people, as well as the audio and surveillance video evidence that was deleted from the original cases. Use your duplicates to read through them, then contact these groups and unite with them to file a lawsuit against Stagg Industries." 

"Among these more than one hundred people are several journalists, some of whom are still employed. Winning the lawsuit is important, but that's not your initial goal. You first need to get the journalists to find a way to spread this story, making it as big as possible. Don't worry, I can help a little with the internet aspect." 

"Stagg just received Central City's Annual Best Contribution Award, so the faster you act, the better. Let your case fire the first shot, directly hitting this honor he just acquired. The public's attention will explode instantly, and with the remaining hundred-plus people following up with lawsuits, the matter will become too big to suppress." 

"If they really are willing to spend money to suppress it, you still don't need to worry, because I will intervene." 

"After that, it'll be a free-for-all. People from all walks of life will come to help you, whether for fame or money—it doesn't matter. As long as it can crush Stagg, they are your allies." 

"For your wife, start doing what you need to do quickly. The sooner you reclaim your patent, the sooner she can undergo surgery." 

"Good luck, Denton Black." 

Beep—beep— 

The call ended completely, but Denton's eyes were now shining. 

"Elizabeth... wait for me." 

On the other end of the call, Cody was driving San Bengzi to deliver pastries. 

"Is this necessary?" 

"To complete the act, and to develop a delivery business, so Denton won't want to investigate me." 

"I mean, do we really have to play out that embarrassing, chuunibyo trope?" San Bengzi mercilessly complained, "'Because I will intervene'... Ugh, just hearing that makes my toes curl so hard they could dig a three-bedroom apartment in the ground." 

"Can't I enjoy myself?" 

Cody rolled his eyes: "I finally get to wear a disguise, and now I can't even be a weirdo? Can't I just enjoy a little flair?" 

"Speaking of flair..." San Bengzi reminded him, "Your group chat recently mentioned a certain urban legend and even had a video. I think you should see it." 

"Ever since the particle accelerator exploded, urban legends have become real-life adaptations," Cody scratched his head. "Let me see what video it is." 

The screen on his phone immediately started playing. 

It was in a seemingly secluded alley. 

"I recognize that place," Cody immediately replied. "It's an alley near Central City Prison. I was going to hide there for some peace and quiet, but some leftover guys still tracked me down." 

"They probably considered this one of your spawn points. This video was taken last night." 

Suddenly, a light flickered on the screen. Cody looked closely and saw a bald man in a prison uniform appear on the street. 

"...He's so bright. Where did he come from?" 

"He floated out." 

As soon as San Bengzi finished speaking, the man's body indeed suddenly dispersed, transforming into a wisp of ethereal green smoke that drifted with the wind into the woods and vanished without a trace. 

The video ended there, and Cody was stunned. 

"He really did float out." 

Chapter 332: The Not-So-Smart Supervisor 

One wave had not settled before another rose. 

Thanks to having watched the show before, Cody had a slight impression of this suddenly appearing "Mist Man," but at the same time, due to the long passage of time and the early villains' lack of renown, his impression wasn't very deep. 

Minor characters with limited early screen time and development felt to him like long English listening exercises: they smoothly entered his left ear, slid across his smooth, uncreased cerebral cortex, and then exited through his right ear—leaving no trace or impression whatsoever. 

"I think he was just a simple bad guy... Could he turn into toxic gas?" 

This simple sentence encompassed Cody's entire understanding of the Mist Man. He had no identity information or past experiences for him; Cody couldn't even remember who he wanted to kill. 

"Did you get his full face?" 

"Unfortunately, no." 

"Next time I watch a show, I really need to pay attention..." 

Cody sighed. The only clues now were a bald head and a prison uniform. He couldn't possibly investigate every bald person in the city, could he? 

Wait, a prison uniform? 

"Sanbengzi, check all bald criminals in Central City Prison. See if anyone escaped or went missing yesterday." 

"Searching—search complete. Sixteen new inmates were admitted in the past two months, all shaved bald, but none are missing." 

"What about old inmates with bald heads?" 

"A total of forty-seven, none of whom have escaped or gone missing either." 

"That doesn't make sense," Cody scratched his head. "Could it be that what he was wearing wasn't a prison uniform, but a cosplay costume?" 

"The back of that outfit was indeed identical to Central City Prison uniforms. The front had no information." 

"What about nearby surveillance?" 

"The gas's ability to conceal is too strong, and Central City's surveillance coverage isn't complete enough." 

"So, no clues?" 

"Indeed, none." 

"Darn it." 

For such an abrupt and inexplicable incident, Cody currently had no better solution—but he certainly had a few complaints about Central City's surveillance coverage. 

"Otherwise, I should just set up surveillance across the whole city... No, no, that's a bit too extreme." 

Cody sighed. After spending some time with the mysterious broken-bone man, even he was starting to become a bit Bat-like. 

"Let's go, let's go," he called out twice. "Today's business is pretty much done. Let's just head home first." 

Dincat reluctantly climbed out of Sanbengzi's sidecar and jumped back onto Cody's head. 

There were still pastry crumbs around its mouth. 

"Dincat, if you steal pastries again, I'm switching to selling dango starting tomorrow." 

"Boss, I didn't, hiccup~, didn't steal any, meow." 

"I'm making you a meal of dango when we get back today! I don't even know if the pastries every day are sold out or eaten up anymore..." 

That night, on the edge of Central City's docks. 

Compared to the brightly lit city center, the lights on the streets between the dock buildings seemed a bit dim. Shadows permeated this area, making it look like the sunny, cheerful city was revealing its dark side at night. 

A high-end sedan drove over the damp ground, where wastewater had collected. It was past 8 PM, and this car, by all appearances, shouldn't have been in this area at this time. 

Screech— 

The car stopped in a dark alley. A tall Black man in a high-quality black suit stepped out of the car. He frowned and strode towards a man in black in the alley. 

This Black man was Stagg's head of security, Gava. 

He asked the man in black, "Where are your other team members?" 

"I'm enough." 

The man in black didn't even bother to pull off his mask. His eyes were fixed on his phone, seemingly busy Browse something, and his voice sounded muffled. 

But it was still recognizable. 

"Mr. Black," the supervisor replied coldly, "Whatever you were planning, you didn't show up today, but I don't care about that. You still have to pay, and as for you failing to catch Stagg today—that's because you didn't act, it has nothing to do with me." 

"Gava, don't you think what you're saying is ridiculous?" Denton didn't even lift his head, still looking at his phone: "Stagg left today at 3:09, he didn't even stay in the venue for ten minutes. Besides you, the head of security, who else could have done that?" 

Hearing this, Gava's expression turned ugly, because what happened with Stagg today was indeed unexpected for him too. 

He was worried that Black would actually believe he was double-crossing him and then go all out against him. 

"I'm too lazy to explain to you, Black. I just told you where he would be; I wouldn't tell you how long he'd stay there. If you were too slow, that's not my problem." 

Denton didn't say anything. 

"On the contrary, your slowness led to the kidnapping failing, and now the ransom is gone. I risked giving you information for nothing, and now I have to worry about being found out. My loss is the greatest." 

"What? Are you afraid of being found out?" 

"I work in security. I have a reputation in this business, you idiot. From now on, I won't provide you with any more information. Our cooperation ends here!—Can you just stop staring at your phone?! Can you show me some respect?!" 

Denton couldn't help but laugh, but he didn't stop what he was doing on his phone. 

"Anyway, I've already backed off, Gava," he replied calmly. "I don't have any final payment for you, so I'll give you a piece of advice: if I were you, I'd change companies or change professions soon." 

"Go to hell, Black, give me the money." 

"Anyway, I've already warned you. Whether you listen or not is none of my business—as for the money, I don't have any." 

An enraged Gava clenched his fists and rushed forward. 

"You have a reputation in this business, Gava, and I've recorded our conversation tonight." 

"Go on, if you're smart enough, listen to my advice. If not, don't provoke me." 

Looking at Denton's eyes, which hadn't lifted once, Gava's face alternated between green and red—of course, to others, it remained perpetually black. 

"Don't ever show your face to me again, you scum." 

He fiercely uttered a threat, turned, got into his car, and quickly drove away from the docks. 

Moments later, Black also strolled away. 

"What a shame," he quickly browsed the case files on his phone and dialed a number, muttering, "I didn't really have time to make a recording—I was busy." 

Beep—beep—beep— 

The call connected, and a man's voice asked, "Who is this?" 

"Are you Eamon Zachary?" 

"Yes, and you are?" 

"I have something I'd like to discuss with you—regarding Stagg." 

Chapter 333: Cody, the Fishing Master 

The next day, across from the Central City Police Department, Cody casually parked his motorized tricycle and began setting up shop for the day. 

Since a gas-powered metahuman had escaped the night before, if he was eager to commit crimes, then Cody might be able to gather some clues outside the police station. 

Of course, there was another channel for information. 

"Family, family," he messaged in the "Liuzi" group chat. "Did you all see the video of that little mist guy from yesterday?" 

"Oh, Old Ma, a rare sight! Why aren't you lurking anymore?" 

"Old Ma, Old Ma, when are you going to make meat again? The brothers are really missing your big chunks of meat!" 

"Old Ma? Where are you setting up your stall today? We're coming to pick up our usual orders." 

"At the police station entrance today. Just come over. Remember, it's still a thousand dollars per side. I'm not selling extra." 

"Alright." 

Seeing the group chat liven up, Cody took the opportunity to ask, "I'm a bit interested in that little green mist guy. He was wearing a prison uniform, so he seems like a prisoner. Does anyone know who he is?" 

"Hard to say. Just a back view, who could recognize him? Unless it's someone you know well." 

"We're not locals. We're good at candid shots, but finding people is a bit difficult." 

"Sigh, Old Ma used to call us 'friends' when he didn't need anything, but now that he needs something, he starts calling us 'family.'" 

"As long as he doesn't call us 'Mrs. Cow.'" 

"Calling us 'Mrs. Cow' is fine too." 

"Let's not get sidetracked," Cody corrected. "Anyway, I'm quite curious about this guy's information. If anyone can provide it, I'll make two days of special items for you." 

"What special items?" 

"Hand-fried spicy hot pot sauce, and some cooked ingredients. You can just stir-fry them a bit when you get home, or I can fry them on the spot if you order." 

"Holy cow! Really, bro?" 

"I love that spicy kick!" 

"I can't eat spicy food, though..." 

"For those who can't eat spicy, I'll make meat sauce for you to take home and eat with zhajiangmian." 

"Holy cow! Really, bro?" 

Cody ignored the excited chatter in the group. The information gathering task had been issued, and he just needed to go back, finish making the sauces, and wait for the "Liuzi" to turn in their findings. 

If the "Liuzi" couldn't find anything, it didn't matter; he was just trying his luck anyway. 

Just then, a few police officers emerged from the Central City Police Department. 

"Hey, that young man is out today—buddy, get some biscuits." 

Even after all this time, the officer still couldn't remember the correct name for the snack. Cody couldn't be bothered to correct him and casually pulled out a bag of snacks from his cart. 

"Twenty dollars each, thank you for your patronage." 

The officers paid, took their lattes and snacks, and headed back into the station. Their casual chatter, however, reached Cody's ears: "Did you hear? Something happened yesterday at the annual Contribution Awards ceremony at the Stagg Tower." 

"Stagg? Sounds familiar, like that hot thing on TV recently..." 

"What TV? Don't you guys read the case files? It's Stagg Industries, the one with the thickest pile of case files in the department!" 

"Well, they have been on TV a lot recently." 

"Anyway, I don't think that group's boss is a good person. He still has at least twenty ongoing lawsuits, and countless closed cases—must be over a hundred." 

"Anyway, at that awards ceremony yesterday, security said they saw a group of men in black with guns standing at the entrance, not sure what they were doing, and then they drove off—Barry even stopped them for a bit at the back exit, but he got knocked out." 

"Barry? Joe's adopted son?" 

"That young man is very decent... too bad he's a bit weak physically. Is he alright?" 

"He's fine, but Stagg told the police department to investigate this thoroughly and catch the people." 

"No clues, how are we supposed to catch them?" 

"They donated money, so we can only go along with it and put on a show." 

"I still think that boss isn't a good person..." 

Hearing this, Cody briefly estimated the risk of Denton being caught. 

Hmm, practically impossible to be caught. 

So, he continued setting up his stall with peace of mind. 

--- 

Ten minutes later, Barry Allen jogged to the entrance of the police department. 

Cody looked at his watch; Barry was exactly one minute late. 

"The fastest speedster in the world—well, currently the second fastest—is basically late once every day," he thought. "Is this some strange causality?" 

Barry, of course, had no idea what he was thinking. He turned and rushed into the police station, only to rush out again half a minute later. 

"Uh, hello, Old Ma." 

"Hmm? You know my name?" 

"Everyone at the police department knows your name, and so do the people in the lab—even if the doctor doesn't like snacks, he learned your name from Cisco." 

Cody thought to himself that this wasn't a good sign. 

"My name is Barry, Barry Allen," Barry introduced himself, speaking very quickly. "I wanted to ask, where did you get that piece of chocolate you gave me before?" 

"Small business, of course, it's homemade—see? Liquor license!" 

Barry gave an awkward yet polite smile. 

"So what ingredients did you use? Or, are you still selling that stuff?" 

"I can sell it. The recipe is a trade secret. Do you have anything else you want to ask?" 

"Nothing, I just really liked your chocolate." 

Barry answered Cody's questions, recalling the tests done in the lab yesterday. 

"Complete metabolic failure due to acute hypoglycemia," Caitlin diagnosed his condition decisively. "Not eating enough." 

"So I just need one bag of IV fluid?" 

"No," Cisco chuckled. "You need forty bags." 

"..." 

"We'll arrange a new diet plan for you based on your metabolism so you won't pass out again—don't worry, it's just 850 burritos. You can eat them quickly with your speed." 

Barry sighed. "Unless I consume high-energy food, then I can eat less, right?" 

"Even high-energy food will still be in the hundreds. Don't avoid it, Barry, eat properly." 

As they spoke, Barry suddenly frowned. 

"High-energy food..." 

He remembered waking up in the back alley, a hint of chocolate sweetness still lingering in his mouth. 

According to the security guard, he had woken up within ten seconds in the back alley. 

He turned to Dr. Wells. "Is there anything that can quickly replenish my nutrients in ten seconds?" 

"Nothing like that exists, Barry. Be honest, like Cisco said—eat properly." 

So Barry said no more, only deciding in his heart that the next time he saw that vendor, he would definitely ask for more details. 

"Can you sell me a few more pieces of chocolate?" he asked. "I really liked them." 

"That's easy," Cody replied. "Do you want the kind that replenishes nutrients, or the kind that strengthens the body?" 

"?" 

Chapter 334: Panicked, Panicked 

As a science-loving, book-smart guy, Barry pretty much fits the common stereotype of a "nerd." He enjoys sci-fi and superhero movies, and he's into video games too. 

But he's always been clear about the difference between games and reality. For example, things like "the red and green plants in the police station's potted plants are miracle healing medicines," or "I, a mass murderer, became the richest person in Los Santos by robbing people every day," or "a mysterious shady merchant who can pull out expensive black-tech gear anywhere, anytime" are clearly just fantasies found in movies and TV shows. 

That is, until the street food vendor asked him what kind of chocolate he wanted. 

"What do you mean by 'the kind that supplements nutrition' and 'the kind that strengthens the body'?" Barry's eyes were a bit confused. "Do you even know what you're talking about?" 

"What's wrong? Is there a problem?" Cody shot back, "My family's chocolate is a five-hundred-year-old family recipe. Is it that strange for our products to get some iterative upgrades for functional purposes?" 

This was half-true; only the liqueur-filled chocolates were genuinely an ancestral recipe. 

"Five hundred years?" Barry almost lost it. "Fun fact: the first solid chocolate in the world was made by Fry & Sons in England in 1847. It hasn't even been five hundred years since then, not even two hundred." 

"What do you know?" Cody waved his hand. "The herbal ingredients in the chocolate are from an ancestral recipe, a five-hundred-year-old one. Everyone who's drunk... eaten it says it's good." 

Hearing that, Barry immediately thought of an old friend—Green Arrow from Star City. He'd once told Barry about a Chinese man named Yao Fei he met on Lian Yu, who had a truly miraculous herbal remedy that was incredibly effective for treating injuries. 

Is this person... connected to Yao Fei? Or does everyone from "East University" just have a magical herb? Do they have a magic academy there? 

He immediately asked Cody, "Do you know Yao Fei?" 

"Who's Yao Fei?" 

"Nothing, nothing..." 

"East University" in Barry's mind suddenly became even more mysterious. "They must have a magic academy." 

See? That's how stereotypes are formed. 

"So what do these strange chocolate functions mean?" 

"Isn't it obvious? The 'nutrition supplement' type is, of course, suitable for people who exercise a lot or for those with weaker bodies," Cody explained. "I just saw you jogging the other night, so I thought I'd try to get some new customers." 

"And the 'body strengthening' one?" 

"That's for martial arts training. We've researched some physical enhancement drugs that can make your bones and muscles solid, so you naturally become more resilient—I saw you're from the police department too, and you've got good muscles. You must be a martial artist, right?" 

"Uh, no, no, I haven't learned any close combat or anything like that..." 

Barry awkwardly waved his hand, thinking that action movies were right after all: all Chinese people know kung fu. 

See? That's how stereotypes are reinforced. 

"Alright, I'll take the nutritional type then." Cody shrugged. "If we come out with any new chocolate varieties later, you can always come and try those too." 

"Thanks..." 

"You're welcome. One hundred dollars a piece. Thank you for your business." 

"Huh?" 

Is your chocolate made of gold? That was Barry's first thought. 

But when he considered the cost of the diet arranged by the lab, he actually found this chocolate to be both cost-effective and convenient. At least a hundred hamburgers or dozens of high-energy bars would definitely cost more than one hundred dollars, and he'd still have to spend a long time using his super-speed to eat them. 

Feeling full was important, of course, but the feeling of stuffing so much food into his stomach at once... only Barry knew what that was like. 

"Alright," he sighed. "Hope I can get a refund from the doctor when I get back." 

But the doctor didn't want to reimburse him right now; he wanted to kill someone. 

At that moment, in the secret room at S.T.A.R. Labs, Wells stood in front of the news report about the Flash's disappearance, his face terrifyingly grim. 

The AI-projected newspaper light was clearly visible. The headline seemed unchanged, still about the Flash's disappearance, still dated April 25, 2024. 

But some things had changed. 

"No, no, this shouldn't have been here before..." 

Wells reached out, his finger tracing letter by letter the small news articles at the very bottom of the page. They didn't seem particularly noticeable, but to Wells, they were incredibly jarring. 

He was too familiar with this report. Over the past decade or so, he had read this newspaper layout over and over, almost able to recite it word for word—or rather, it wouldn't be wrong to just remove the word "almost." 

"This one should have been the bankruptcy announcement of Stagg Industries. Why? Why is it gone?!" 

In truth, Wells didn't care much about Stagg, or even Stagg Industries as a whole. In fact, before the accident at S.T.A.R. Labs, he, as a prominent scientist, had conversations and negotiations with Stagg. He had personally met this so-called humanitarian and great philanthropist. 

They never ended up collaborating because his assessment of Stagg was simple: an idiot, a liar, a hypocrite, and a man consumed by greed. 

Collaborating with such a person was an insult to the proud Wells. 

He didn't care about the fate of Stagg Industries. His only concern was that every news article on this paper was a node anchoring a future point in time, and now, a small node had changed. 

The news about "Stagg Industries announced bankruptcy yesterday" had now become "Black Biotech achieves another technological breakthrough, cloning therapy medical costs set to hit new lows." 

This meant that the future, which had been set, was now beginning to show some subtle changes—and since the small news articles below had changed, the headline at the top was no longer safe either. 

"Why... what caused Stagg not to go bankrupt in '24? And where did Black Biotech come from?" 

Wells's brows furrowed deeply. His brain was working at lightning speed, trying to figure out the cause-and-effect relationship of the Stagg-related events, but he couldn't find a solution. 

As a genius scientist, he knew his goals well and didn't lack the perseverance or means to execute his plans. For the past decade or so, he had always been cautious and meticulous in his thinking, so he didn't believe he was the one who caused this news change. 

"Why? Why?" 

"Dr. Wells? Where are you? Barry's back." 

When Cisco's voice came through the earpiece, the gritting-teeth doctor immediately regained his composure. He sat back in his chair, a plan already forming in his mind, and his face returned to its usual calm, almost cold expression. 

"Cisco, I'll be right there. Have Barry wait for me in the main hall." 

Chapter 335: Old Ginger Is Still Spicier 

"Uh, Dr. Wells, could the lab possibly adjust my diet plan a bit—" 

"No, Mr. Allen. If you specifically ran here from the police department for that, then I suggest you hurry back to the precinct before Joe catches you skipping work." 

Dr. Wells's expressionless words to Barry made him seem a bit cold. Cisco and Caitlin didn't dare to interject at that moment; they knew full well that this tone indicated the doctor was annoyed. 

"No, no, I mean, I found a more convenient way," Barry explained. "I don't have to eat so much. There's a chocolate that can quickly restore my energy, just one piece." 

Wells's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. 

From the moment Barry Allen gained his speed force, Wells had conducted extensive research on related matters. When it came to speedsters, Wells couldn't claim to know everything, but he was certainly knowledgeable. However, this "chocolate" Barry mentioned... 

"I've never heard of such a thing," Wells replied. "Since you started showing hypoglycemic symptoms until now, I've checked all available information on high-energy foods, and I'm very certain that even if you chugged an entire bucket of chocolate, you'd still need at least a dozen buckets." 

"If someone told you that one piece of chocolate is enough to restore your energy, it might just be because they don't understand you. But if you believe that claim yourself, it only shows that you don't understand yourself, nor do you understand science." 

"No, no, no, I tried its effects. What Old Ma said is true. I even purposely bought an extra one back—Cisco, can you help me test this chocolate?" 

When Wells heard that familiar name, he couldn't help but ask, "Is it that snack cart owner again?" 

"Uh, yeah, it's him. I saw him setting up his stall outside the police station." 

"Interesting." 

A playful glint appeared in Wells's eyes. "Since the explosion, Central City has gained such a peculiar foreigner. He just so happens to appear at the police department, near S.T.A.R. Labs, and the things he makes happen to be liked by you all. If his stall location is truly such a coincidence, I'm rather interested in meeting this master pastry chef who enjoys street vending." 

Wells's voice came through the surveillance system clearly. Although he had mentally prepared himself for Wells's reaction, Cody, standing outside the police station, still felt a chilling sensation listening to his tone. 

"Darn it, he's so perceptive. The moment I show my face, he's already zeroed in on me." 

But ultimately, it was better to guide than to obstruct. If he couldn't successfully transform his identity from "suspicious person hiding their tracks" to "interesting NPC with a bit of a backstory," then in the foreseeable future, he would definitely be targeted as a suspicious individual and taken out directly—Cody knew Wells's style too well. 

Extremely calm and rational, extremely protective of the current Flash, and extremely ruthless. 

"One more thing, Barry," Dr. Wells continued. "You passed out at Stagg's awards ceremony yesterday, right?" 

Cody's internal alarm bells immediately went off. 

"Stagg caught his attention? But why? Denton didn't show his face at all. His abilities shouldn't even be known to anyone." 

"Tricycle," he immediately asked, "that security supervisor didn't leak Denton's information, did he?" 

"No, so far, Denton Black hasn't revealed his abilities to anyone." 

"Got it." Cody immediately pinpointed the target: "Gideon did it." 

"The AI that stores news from 2024?" 

"Exactly. Any news the Doctor gets outside the lab, we can indirectly know about. The secret room is the only place we haven't dared to approach or monitor—I need to warn Denton." 

--- 

Inside S.T.A.R. Labs, Barry was momentarily stunned by the doctor's question. 

"Yes, Iris and I went to Stagg's awards ceremony then. She had to write a paper, and I just wanted to see the new medical breakthroughs—then I saw a few people with guns running out of the venue..." 

"Running 'out'?" 

"Yes." 

"Those people didn't rob, didn't kill, didn't commit any crimes? They just ran off with guns?" 

"Yes." 

"Then why do you think they went to the venue?" 

"Uh, the police department is investigating too, but we can't be sure because they didn't do anything." 

"Wrong, Barry." 

The doctor couldn't help but smile. "It's precisely because they didn't do anything that it's easy to figure out." 

"They were a group of people, and they had guns, so they intended violent action." 

"You don't need to investigate to guess. Most of the attendees that day were likely powerful and influential people. If they wanted money, robbery and kidnapping could be a one-stop shop. So they weren't after money—how many security guards were there on site?" 

"Uh, I don't know, but only one security guard chased them out at the time." 

"They had a clear firepower advantage over the security guard, but they didn't engage. That means they're very smart, or they have some moral sense; they didn't want to blow things up and attract police attention, or they simply didn't want to kill." 

"So they brought guns not for money, but for a person, specifically someone in the venue—but they abandoned their plan midway." 

"There are two possibilities. One is contract killing, but assassins aren't mercenaries; they prefer stealth, not such a grand display. The second possibility is a revenge killing, but the target wasn't there, or they voluntarily gave up their grudge." 

"Barry, how many people were there exactly? Think carefully before you speak." 

"I saw six, and the security guard also said he saw six people running out of six different venue entrances, getting into a van, and finally leaving through the back alley." 

"What about the surveillance in the back alley?" 

"None." 

"Would a well-prepared, meticulously planned group abandon an operation when their plan is going smoothly? Would a group of murderers who had already decided to kill hesitate when executing their plan?" 

"No..." 

"So their target wasn't in the venue—Barry, who left the awards ceremony early that day?" 

By the time Wells asked this, Barry was completely stunned. 

"Stagg... Mr. Stagg and his head of security left early." 

Wells's lips curved into a smile, a cold glint hidden in his eyes. 

"Caught your tail." 

At the doctor's prompting, Barry left the chocolate in the lab, turned, and ran back to the Central City Police Department. 

"Barry? I thought you forgot it was Tuesday." 

Joe saw a frantic Barry and was displeased. "I've told you many times, focus on your work—" 

But Barry, unusually, didn't let Joe finish speaking and interrupted him directly. 

"Joe, someone wants to kill Mr. Stagg!"