321-325

Chapter 321: Run, Barry, Run! 

"If the wind speed keeps increasing, that thing is going to turn into an F5 tornado, Barry, stop him now!" 

"An F5?" 

Barry looked up at the terrifying, sky-high tornado. The entire cloud system outside Central City was being churned by it, like a giant funnel or a whirlpool, or perhaps some monstrous beast in the clouds opening its maw, swallowing everything on the ground. Gravel, dust, stones, wooden planks, metal sheets, even streetlights and small cars—everything in its path was gradually moving towards the storm's center. While the immense wind force hadn't yet fully unleashed its destructive power, it was clear that in a few more minutes, once it reached Central City, it would tear everything apart, tossing it all high into the sky, then smashing it to bits. Even buildings made of reinforced concrete would be no different from wooden shacks in its presence. 

As a CSI, Barry knew exactly what an F5 tornado meant. Tornadoes themselves only have six classifications, from F0 to F5, with F5 being the absolute limit of the rating, not Clyde's limit. In 1925, there was a massive wedge tornado in the United States, known as the Tri-State Tornado, which swept across three states. It lasted only three and a half hours, covering three hundred and fifty-two kilometers, crossing southeastern Missouri, southern Illinois, and northern Indiana. In those brief three and a half hours, a staggering six hundred and ninety-five people were killed or injured. Yet, the Tri-State Tornado's speed was only two hundred and twenty-three miles per hour. 

Wreckage and wails everywhere... Hearing that the tornado summoned by Clyde was already at two hundred miles per hour and still increasing, Barry could already imagine the devastation Central City would face in a few minutes. He urgently asked Cisco, "He's heading straight for Central City! How do I stop him?!" 

Hearing Barry's question, Cisco and Caitlin exchanged glances. The crisis had struck too suddenly, and before today, they were just two scientists focused on research. They had finally braced themselves, thinking they just needed to help Barry deal with a dangerous robber while keeping it secret from Dr. Wells. They never imagined they'd need to stop a tornado capable of directly destroying all of Central City. 

After more than ten seconds of silence in his earpiece, Barry immediately realized that Caitlin and Cisco probably couldn't think of a solution right now. He gritted his teeth and looked at the terrifying, intensifying tornado, and suddenly an idea sparked in his mind. 

"What if I just disintegrate the tornado?" 

Caitlin shook her head. "Tornadoes are natural disasters; you can only evade them, not fight them. How would you disintegrate it?" 

"I can run counter-clockwise around its base, creating another high-speed airflow to collide with the tornado's airflow, weakening and disintegrating it." 

Cisco, the tech genius, immediately calculated the conditions required for Barry's plan: "You'd have to run at seven hundred miles per hour against the tornado's base to counteract it, but then—" 

"Then your body wouldn't be able to withstand that kind of superspeed," Caitlin interjected. "Barry, you're human. You'll die." 

Barry listened to Caitlin's voice, first愣了一下, then subconsciously turned his head to look back at Central City behind him. A beautiful bright moon hung in the distant night sky, and beneath its silver light lay the city he knew so well. Buildings stood tall across the land, skyscrapers and low streetlights alike, unaware that a city-destroying storm was about to form, still twinkling with their scattered lights. Each light was a home, interwoven like a starlit sky, forming a long, luminous galaxy on the horizon. The lights in the buildings were office workers toiling late, the lights on the roads were commuters driving home, the lights in the small houses were homemakers cooking dinner in the kitchen, the lights in the hospitals were doctors saving lives, and perhaps even a pastry vendor under a streetlight was preparing to close up shop. 

And Barry knew that even S.T.A.R. Labs had a light on right now. That was Cisco and Caitlin, who wanted to help him save this city, and also the Doctor. 

There was no turning back now, Barry thought, then turned his head for a deep look at Joe beside him. "I'll bring you some pastries tomorrow, Joe," he thought to himself. "If I'm lucky enough." 

He hesitated no longer and simply bolted forward. 

Joe clung to his car in the storm, trying to steady himself, his eyes fixed on the mysterious red figure on the field. For some reason, that figure always gave him a rather familiar, comforting feeling. 

Joe saw him transform into a golden-red blur of light, circling the tornado, saw an airflow forming around his body, and saw the tornado's momentum begin to weaken. Clearly, this metahuman was confronting Clyde; he must be an ally. But he also saw an air blast erupt from within the tornado, striking the figure and sending him flying. 

"No, he's too strong..." 

Barry's voice was low as he struggled to get back on his feet. He said into his earpiece, "I can't—" 

"You can do it, Barry." 

A calm voice suddenly sounded in his earpiece, the tone even, steady, without a hint of panic, as if the topic being discussed wasn't a major event concerning the survival of a city, but rather what to have for dinner. 

"Dr. Wells?!" 

Cisco and Caitlin's eyes widened, looking at the suddenly present Doctor. It was clear that neither of them could keep any secrets from the Doctor for long. 

"You're right, Barry. The experimental accident I caused—I'm responsible for all of it. People were hurt because of me, people died because of me." 

As he spoke, Dr. Wells became emotional, his tone gradually quickening, his voice growing louder. "From the first moment I saw you, I knew that your ordeal was entirely my doing. This chaos began with me. And you, Barry, you can set things right, you can fix my mistakes, you can save me." 

"You can do all of this, Barry." 

He shouted those words loudly to Barry: "Now, run, Barry—run!" 

The Doctor's voice resonated in Barry's ears like a mighty bell. In that moment, he denied his previous statements, denied his previous conclusions about Barry Allen, and acknowledged his potential. In that moment, some destined event was activated; a lightning bolt streaked across fate and centuries, connecting destiny and time-space into a straight line. 

The instant "Wells" acknowledged him, the lock in Barry's heart shattered. The Doctor's cry became the only sound in his world, not just in his earpiece, but seemingly emanating from every cell of his body. It came from the Speed Force. 

"Run, Barry, run!" 

Chapter 322: We're All Living Life to the Fullest 

As the red blur once again ran at high speed around the tornado, fragmented golden lightning began to flicker within the golden aura behind him—as Barry's speed grew faster and faster, the Speed Force finally revealed part of its true nature. 

He was gradually transforming into a human lightning bolt. 

Clyde, at the center of the storm, tried to blast Barry away with high-speed air currents as before. He pushed the tornado to its limits, trying to make it spin even faster, but by now, Barry was unstoppable. 

Dr. Wells looked at the data on the sensors, watching Barry's speed rapidly climb in a matter of seconds, and couldn't help but take off his glasses, a joyful smile spreading across his face. 

"Aaaahhh—" 

Amidst Mardon's desperate roar, the high-speed swirling air collapsed with a crash, sending shockwaves of dust and dirt outwards—the tornado was gone. 

Barry, as if having narrowly escaped death, bent over, panting heavily, not noticing that the tornado had blown off his mask. Joe, watching from behind the car, widened his eyes as he saw Barry's exposed face. 

That metahuman is my son?! 

"Ha, haha." 

Clyde's voice echoed behind Barry. 

"I didn't expect there to be someone else like me." 

Barry looked at him and retorted without hesitation, "No, I'm not like you—you're a criminal." 

Mardon looked into Barry's eyes and suddenly understood what he was trying to say: A criminal with powers is still just a criminal. If you can't even be a decent human, what right do you have to call yourself a god? 

So he instinctively grabbed his gun, just as he had done countless times before, intending to fire a shot at Barry. 

In the end, Clyde Mardon was still Clyde Mardon. 

Except this time, he couldn't pull the trigger. 

Joe instinctively drew his gun, wanting to shoot Clyde dead. 

But just then, a powerful burst of music suddenly blared in the night, sounding like a very unique song. 

"Life, can you let me off this one time~" 

"What's that noise?!" 

A beam of white light flared behind them. Clyde, who was about to shoot, was startled by the sudden loud music and snapped his head back, only to be blinded by dazzling headlights. 

"Rumble rumble—" 

"Sometimes I'm so tired but don't know why I keep going~" 

A massive semi-truck, blaring powerful music, sped across the farm. Its thundering vibrations sent shivers down everyone's spines. 

Where the hell did that thing come from?! 

Joe was dumbfounded. He stared at the large truck that had appeared out of nowhere—it felt like it wasn't just hitting Mardon, but his own head too. 

Am I dreaming? 

By the time his brain finally caught up, the big truck had reached Clyde at a visibly crushing speed, and the music had just hit its final note. 

"Wiping away tears, facing the trivial days—" 

Joe yelled to Barry, who was also blinded by the headlights behind Clyde, "Barry, get out of the way!" 

"One spoonful of sauce~" 

Bang! 

As he flew through the air, Clyde thought of many things. 

He thought of the hundreds of thousands in stolen money he hadn't spent yet, his grand ambition to conquer Central City, his narrow escape when he crawled out of the plane wreckage, the nine months he spent in hiding, and the wild joy he felt upon discovering his powers. 

Finally, he thought of his brother, Mark Mardon. 

Mark, he silently repeated, the family member who lived with me for so many years, my brother. 

This should have been the person he remembered most clearly, because in the past, it was always Mark, the older brother, who took care of Clyde, the younger brother, and paid for his recklessness and impulsiveness—people always remembered the Mardon brothers as two. 

Did I forget my brother? How could I forget him? 

In the last moment before his thoughts ceased, his brother's face flashed through Clyde's mind. 

Boom boom— 

Sending Clyde flying didn't affect the big truck's speed in the slightest. It smoothly and elegantly turned its head slightly, driving straight past Barry's side. When Barry's vision finally returned to normal and he turned his head, he could only see a trail of rolling dust left behind. 

Inside the truck, Cody glanced at Clyde on the ground in the rearview mirror and asked the system, "How'd it go? Did the interdimensional smuggling succeed?" 

[Smuggling successful. Clyde will be transported to your universe and will manifest at the designated location—Gotham Penitentiary.] 

"Good. The factory's got more labor, Gotham City's got a new workhorse, Central City lost a metahuman criminal, and Trike finally got a kill count. We all have a bright future." 

Cody hummed lightly, thinking he'd done a good deed that benefited four parties. 

"This big truck form is so clumsy, old Ma. I don't want to use this form anymore." 

"Don't be silly. I specifically spent twenty thousand to add this form for you. Not to mention there's still a bunch of metahuman criminals waiting to be reborn in another world. Plus, if I stop street vending in the future, at least I can still earn some money hauling goods with you." 

As the man and vehicle conversed, the truck's body began to fold and transform again. Within seconds, the massive vehicle reverted to a small motorcycle. Trike also activated silent mode, and this blue-and-black painted motorcycle truly merged into the night. 

Using the dump truck form wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision for Cody. Since getting Dumb Cat and Trike, he could now gradually let loose a bit. After all, Reverse-Flash couldn't kill him in one hit anymore, and even if he did, Cat could save him with the Cat-Car. 

[You have assisted in advancing the timeline in this universe, assisting Barry Allen in "killing" Clyde. Your connection to this universe has increased by 5%.] 

"I have to help you kill twenty monsters just to grind out a compatibility quest," Cody rolled his eyes. "This universe is purely getting something for nothing." 

[Please note: According to the original timeline of the universe, some individuals who should be captured cannot die in this universe, and some individuals who should die cannot survive in this universe. Please carefully distinguish the requirements given in the mission.] 

"I'll try," Cody pouted. "Crossing timelines causes misfortune, but I'm using the 'present' to expand the future. If there's a good ending, there's no reason I have to choose a bad one." 

"Barry, Barry? What's your situation? Why aren't you saying anything?" 

The doctor asked nervously over the comms, "And why is there music on your end? Did something pass by?" 

"Huh?" 

Barry was still staring blankly in the direction the big truck had disappeared, until a moment later, he belatedly replied. 

"...Oh, it's over here. Clyde's finished." 

"But... I don't know how to explain what just happened," Barry continued, a bit troubled. "But Clyde might have died in a car accident." 

Chapter 323: It's All Batman's Fault 

As a CSI field analyst and science geek, Barry's statement was undoubtedly very cautious. 

"No, what do you mean he 'might have' 'died in a car accident'?" 

The three people in S.T.A.R. Labs had just breathed a sigh of relief when they heard Barry's field report. Their brains immediately seemed to freeze. After Cisco reacted, he was the first to ask into the microphone, "Barry, your location is a farm, and it's in such a remote suburb. Think carefully before you speak." 

"I, I'm not lying." Barry was a bit incoherent. "Just now, a semi-trailer truck came out of nowhere, and I don't know why it drove onto the farm. Then its headlights flashed and blinded both of us, and then it hit Clyde, sending him flying several meters. He's definitely... Oh, right, I should probably check if he's still alive first." 

He flashed to Clyde's body and carefully felt around. Cisco and the other two held their breath, waiting for his answer. A few seconds later, Barry's voice rang out in the communicator again: "No help. He's not breathing. Actually, I think he might be a little cold already." 

The three in the lab exchanged glances. 

Dr. Harrison Wells's eyes flickered. He thought deeply but couldn't come up with anything, so he said to Barry, "Barry, bring Mardon's body back. We'll see if we can find any clues on it." 

"Uh, I don't think so." Barry looked up at Joe, who was approaching. "Joe has already called for backup. We can't disturb the scene." 

"...Alright." 

The doctor didn't make any more demands. Instead, he encouraged them, "Anyway, Cisco, Caitlin, Barry, you all did a great job today. Go back and get some good rest." 

"Wells, what about you?" 

"I'll be back in a bit. Don't worry, I've been using a wheelchair for so long, I'm already used to it." 

Seeing that Caitlin and Cisco still looked a bit worried, the doctor sighed. The next second, his expression instantly turned serious, which made the two feel a chill down their spines, because that was the expression Wells usually had when he was about to criticize someone about a project. 

"I'm going back now." 

"Good night, Doctor." 

The two laughed awkwardly and left S.T.A.R. Labs at light speed. 

Ten minutes later, the doctor, alone in his electric wheelchair, arrived in the hallway of S.T.A.R. Labs and extended his hand toward a gray wall. 

Hiss— 

As a blue light swept across his palm, a smooth, tiny mechanical sound rang out, and the wall beside it immediately parted, revealing a doorway. 

White light illuminated the small dark room. After Wells entered, the familiar kind expression on his face instantly vanished, replaced by a cold and sharp look. 

"Gideon," he said, "show me that future report." 

A female electronic voice immediately responded, "Yes." 

As soon as the words fell, a newspaper was immediately presented to Wells as a 3D projection. The headline was eye-catching, clearly stating "The Flash Vanishes in Crisis," and the date of the report was April 25, 2024. 

The doctor looked at the report, and the solemnity on his face gradually disappeared. He finally smiled with satisfaction. 

The next day, in the early morning, as the sun rose above the horizon, the police were already cleaning up the bodies at the Mardon brothers' farm, as well as the house that had been torn in half by the hurricane. 

"Barry, did you go to the prison to see your father yesterday?" 

"Ah, yes, I told him I'd find the real killer of Mom very soon." 

Joe and Barry stood side by side at the edge of the farm, gazing at the sunlight after the storm. 

"Barry." Joe's eyes clearly showed some relief and a lot of guilt. He patted Barry on the side: "I'm sorry... I should have believed you." 

"Joe..." 

"No need to say more, Barry. You really did it." 

Joe hugged Barry: "From the moment I saw Clyde on the road yesterday, I knew that there were indeed things in this world that defied common sense. I knew that your father, my old friend, was innocent. I'm going to pursue this case—but Barry, promise me one thing." 

"What?" 

"Don't let Iris know what you're doing—a hero's weakness is their family. If a villain wants to get to you, they'll definitely go after Iris." 

Seeing Joe's sincere gaze, Barry nodded. 

"Today is another peaceful day." 

Cody rode his small vehicle down the street, unable to help but sigh at the tranquility of life: "Central City is so much better. Every time a villain is defeated, life can be peaceful for a while. This is much better than Gotham..." 

Whoosh— 

As soon as he finished speaking, a golden-red lightning bolt, carrying wind, sped past him, making him stagger and kicking up dust everywhere. 

His beautiful morning mood was instantly ruined, and a vein throbbed on Cody's forehead. 

"Can you look where you're going when you're running, seriously?!" 

Fortunately, the food truck's cover automatically closed, blocking the dust, otherwise today's pastries would have been ruined. 

"544 kilometers per hour." In his earpiece, Sanbengzi's voice seemed a bit strained: "Don't be angry. At least he paid." 

"?" 

A bewildered Cody opened the cover. Sure enough, two neatly arranged Yunnan ham mooncakes were missing, and when he checked his pocket, there was a ten-dollar bill. 

"No, I really need to get him under control... Have you released the nanobots?" 

"Yes, they're in the mooncakes—but didn't you say tracking a speedster was pointless?" 

"Incorrect. What I meant was, it's pointless for 'ordinary people' to track a speedster." 

Cody explained, "But you're different. You're a silicon-based life form. Your brain itself is a top-tier computer. Your thinking speed and reaction speed far exceed those of ordinary people. When you grasp Barry Allen's movements, you can calculate, predict, and then counter him the instant he makes a move." 

"You want me to collect the speedster's movement trajectories and behavior data through nanobots?" 

"Yes, create a model and algorithm to deal with speedsters. This will allow you to go head-to-head with other speedsters. With my help, you might even win." 

"...Are you truly an ally of justice?" 

"Don't ask. If you ask, it's because someone else taught me well." Cody immediately shifted the blame: "It's all Batman's fault—change of subject, where did he go?" 

"There's a fire three blocks away—but Mr. Barry seems unable to control his speed yet. He ran nine blocks away." 

"Figures." Cody rolled his eyes: "Saving lives is like putting out a fire. I won't hold a grudge this time." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Sure—never mind, next time he steals pastries, remember to give him a static shock." 

Chapter 324: Denton Black 

Even though the Flash messed up my street vending mood a bit, business still needed to be done. 

Cody continued pushing his cart forward, Browse the morning news on his phone. 

"This afternoon, the ceremony for Simon Stagg's Central City Annual Best Contribution Award is about to take place at Stagg Industries Tower." 

"The owner of Stagg Industries, a super-rich billionaire, has actually made immense contributions to humanity as a brilliant researcher. Just recently, Mr. Stagg made groundbreaking progress in cell cloning and organ transplantation." 

"It's expected that this research will bring new hope to patients worldwide suffering from organ failure or disease who can't get transplants. By using their own cells, large quantities of undifferentiated stem cells can be replicated and then used to cultivate new, healthy organs for transplantation back into their bodies. This will simultaneously solve two major organ-related problems: insufficient compatibility due to rejection, and the shortage of healthy organs." 

"According to Mr. Stagg, the current cost of this method is quite high, but its potential is significant. It's hoped that it could become a universal solution for congenital disabilities and permanent injuries like organ damage." 

Seeing this, Cody became somewhat interested and clicked on the link to Stagg Medical's official website, attached to the news report. He was immediately shocked by the expensive figures and quickly backed out. 

"You call this 'relatively expensive'?" He couldn't help but complain, "An ordinary person might not be able to pay off this medical bill even after working for ten years." 

Just then, San Bengzi (the A.I.) spoke up. 

"Old Ma, one second ago, nanobots detected an anomaly in Barry Allen's vital signs." 

"Hm?" 

Cody frowned. "What happened to Barry?" 

"In the past few seconds, some of his body data suddenly spiked, very abruptly, and he seemed to experience physical weakness." 

"That's no anomaly," Cody instantly understood what was happening. "I've seen this episode before. His metabolism is too fast, leading to excessive nutrient consumption, but what he's eating is still the same as a normal person. This leads to a lack of nutrients. In short—" 

"He's low on sugar?" San Bengzi abruptly cut in. 

"I think this planet's internet culture is a bit too advanced for a Cybertronian. You should surf the net less—I was going to say he probably didn't eat the chocolate I gave him." 

"So he's low on sugar." 

"Forget it, it's not important. Anyway, with experience, this kind of thing is easy to solve. Just leave it to S.T.A.R. Labs." 

"Alright, besides Barry's situation, there's something else." 

"Go on." 

"Your friend Denton is in trouble recently—look to your right!" 

"Hm?" 

Cody turned his head to the right, somewhat confused, and saw a black minivan parked across the street. A man in a black jacket and hoodie walked straight into a gun store. 

Cody thought it was highly likely he wasn't going in to buy a gun. 

Because the gun store's front glass was tinted, Cody couldn't see inside. He only saw the sign at the door flip from "Open" to "Temporarily Closed." 

This clearly meant something was happening. 

"San Bengzi, connect to the gun store's cameras." 

As soon as he spoke, San Bengzi's projection appeared on his phone. 

"Shut up! No screaming! Get the guns out!" 

"Hm?" 

The hooded man pulled a gun from his waist and threatened the owner—this part was normal, as Cody had guessed he was there to rob the place, but he didn't expect the guy wasn't there for money. 

"I suddenly feel like this place isn't much better than Gotham," he muttered. "Think about it, what kind of sane person robs a gun store for guns and not money? This clearly means he's planning something big." 

"I think you'd better stop him." 

"I know." Cody thought for a moment. "But he's still pointing a gun at the store owner. It's best to wait until he's finished and comes out, then deal with him using the old method." 

"You want to disable his vehicle?" 

"Yeah, that trick worked well against Clyde. It was effective." 

"I advise against doing that. In fact, it's best to prevent him from firing the gun at all." 

"Why?" 

"Because that's your regular customer, Denton Black." 

"What?! Why didn't you say so sooner!" 

Cody was shocked, immediately grabbing a bag of pastries and rushing into the store. 

At this moment, Denton was still ordering the owner to open the warehouse door for him. 

"Get twenty handguns, fifteen rifles, fifty magazines for each, then dump all the loose bullets in. Pack everything into these bags, no more than twenty kilograms per bag, quickly!" 

"Oh god..." The terrified owner was pushed into the warehouse, his trembling hands filling pockets with bullets. "All this stuff, you won't be able to carry it. These are iron bullets and guns, not paper shells..." 

Apparently enraged by the owner's incessant chatter, Denton's eyes were bloodshot. He pointed the handgun at the owner: "I'm not in a good mood right now. If you understand human speech, please move faster." 

However, with the dark muzzle pointed at his forehead, the owner's movements became even more erratic. 

Denton gritted his teeth, checked his watch, and finally apologized to the owner: "I'm sorry, but the police are coming soon—you shouldn't have secretly called them." 

The gun store owner's trembling hand paused. At that moment, he knew his intention to stall for time had been exposed. 

He turned around, raised his gun, and shot out the store's surveillance camera, then aimed the gun back at the owner. 

"Excuse me, is anyone here?" 

Just as Denton was about to fire, the voice at the storefront caught his attention. He cursed inwardly, knowing it was bad, and backhanded the owner with the gun stock, knocking him out cold. 

Should he take care of them both? He weighed his options for a moment, then tiptoed out of the warehouse. 

"Is anyone here?" 

The familiar voice made his heart sink. Denton hesitated for a few seconds, then reached up, pulled off his hood, put the gun into his waistband, and covered it with his jacket. 

"Cough, cough... Hello, what kind of gun would you like to buy—Old Ma? Why are you here?" 

Cody, holding the bag of pastries, saw Denton walk out directly. There didn't seem to be any blood on his clothes, and he finally breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Good thing I stopped him..." 

He handed the bag of pastries directly to Denton: "Someone ordered pastries at this gun store, and when I delivered them, I found it closed and no one around." 

"Oh, that's our boss," Denton calmly replied. "He had to step out for something." 

"Alright, then I'll just give you the pastries—speaking of which, haven't you been sleeping well lately? Your eyes are so red?" 

"I..." 

Thinking of his experiences over the past few days, Denton was momentarily speechless. 

Chapter 325: The Owner Who Made a Profit 

Watching Cody's slightly concerned (and gossipy) eyes, Denton decided not to tell him the truth. 

Why drag him into this? If Cody didn't support him, would he have to shoot him? And if Cody did support him, he definitely couldn't drag him down. 

Thinking about it, Elizabeth's health hadn't been good since she got sick. She couldn't go out, couldn't exercise, and had given up many hobbies. Her diet had become much lighter, but she still asked him to buy Cody's pastries, which weren't too heavy and tasted great, perfect for her. 

She once said that if she got better, she'd like to learn a trick or two from Old Ma and make him some pastries... 

Denton looked at Cody. After a moment of silence, he said, "Recently... some things have happened. I haven't been sleeping well and often stay up late." 

"Are you short on money?" Cody asked. "You're even working part-time at a gun store—if you really need money, you can borrow from me." 

Denton gave a bitter smile. If it were just a matter of money, he wouldn't have ended up in this situation. 

"It's fine, Old Ma, I can handle it myself." He reached out and took the bag of pastries. "Go do your business. I'll buy pastries from you again next time." 

"Alright, remember to call me if you need anything—say hi to Elizabeth for me." 

"...Okay." 

Watching his old acquaintance walk out of the store, Denton couldn't help but sigh. There was no need to silence anyone now. As soon as the police questioned Cody, his identity would be immediately discovered. Killing the gun store owner now would be pointless. 

As he pondered, the store door clicked open again, and Cody walked back in. 

"Oh, right, Denton, one more thing." 

"Now what?" 

Noticing a hint of impatience in Denton's tone, Cody offered an awkward but polite smile and handed him another pastry. 

"Here's a Qingtuan for you. Take it back to Elizabeth; you said she likes this." 

"Thank you." 

"No problem, you're a regular customer." 

Cody waved his hand and turned to leave, the store door clicking shut once more. 

"I can't harm Old Ma," Denton thought silently. "That guy's a good person." 

He raised his hand and checked his watch. There was very little time left. 

"Gotta be quick." 

He rushed into the gun store's warehouse, his body spasming and trembling rapidly. Within seconds, Denton's body, like cells dividing and replicating, split into another Denton. 

The same black jacket, the same lean face, the same voice, gait, movements—they looked completely identical, without any difference. 

This differentiated individual's eyes seemed somewhat vacant. He didn't even look at Denton, like a robot, he quickly moved to the ammunition and guns in the warehouse, swiftly packing things into bags. 

And Denton continued replicating himself. 

One, two, three... Not until he had differentiated into five more of himself, and the warehouse felt a bit crowded, did Denton stop replicating. 

Each of the six Dentons picked up a large backpack, each carefully managing the weight of their respective bags, because anything over twenty kilograms would significantly reduce Denton's agility. 

Meanwhile, Cody, in stealth mode, hid near the warehouse door, amazed by the sight. 

"Good news," he told San Bengzi. "Denton isn't planning to hurt the gun store owner." 

"Bad news?" 

"Bad news is, I didn't expect him to be the villain from the second episode. I wanted to quietly knock him out and take him away, but I can't now. Five people are a bit too many; moving them to the street would draw too much attention." 

"I can use my semi-truck form to carry them away." 

San Bengzi had previously said it didn't like its semi-truck form, so Cody was deeply moved by its willingness to help—then he decisively rejected the suggestion. 

"A semi-truck is even worse. It's too big of a target, even easier to notice." 

"What do we do then?" 

"First, make his robbery fail, otherwise he'll become a real criminal." 

As police sirens blared on the street, Denton's expression suddenly tightened. Luckily, all six bags were packed. He immediately grabbed them and headed for the door. 

Rip! 

The sound of nylon tearing suddenly rang out, and shiny yellow metal bullets rained onto the ground, scattering everywhere with clinks and clangs. 

The handguns and automatic rifles in the bags also fell all over the floor. At that moment, Denton stared at his empty backpack, stunned for almost three seconds. 

Three seconds later, the police sirens grew louder. He raised his hand and slapped himself a few times. He crouched down, quickly picked up two guns from the floor, tucked two magazines into his pocket, and then immediately bolted out of the gun store. 

The six Dentons streamed out of the store, collectively taking twelve handguns and twenty-four magazines, jumped into the minivan parked outside, and sped away from the scene. 

Cody then walked back into the gun store warehouse. He took out several stacks of cash, totaling twenty thousand dollars, and placed them in the owner's trench coat pocket and the cash register. 

"Sorry about that, this is to compensate your losses." 

After Cody disappeared on his motorcycle, Central City Police Department cruisers arrived at the scene. 

"Honestly, Central City PD is pretty efficient," Cody, riding his motorcycle, checked the time. "About three minutes have passed since Denton entered. If Gotham PD had this efficiency, Commissioner Gordon would be laughing in his sleep." 

He rode his motorcycle, looking at Denton's vehicle location on the display, and pondered for a moment: "Let's not follow them for now, to avoid being discovered. We'll wait until he parks the car—how's Elizabeth doing?" 

"I've checked. She's in the intensive care unit at Central City Hospital. Her condition isn't good." 

"Intensive care? Why the hell didn't Denton say anything sooner... How bad is it?" 

"According to her electronic medical records, she has degenerative valvular heart disease. It started worsening a few months after the lab explosion and has now progressed to the late stage—it's uncertain if it's related to the explosion." 

"Is it hopeless?" 

"She doesn't have much time left. According to previous cases at the hospital, it's a miracle she's lived this long." 

"...Let's put Denton's situation aside for a moment. We're going to Central City Hospital first." 

"I'd like to remind you, the 'alcohol' treatment only restores health. This kind of organ malformation is likely an abnormal life state that you cannot cure." 

"Are you kidding? Who do you think I am?" 

With the roar of his motorcycle engine, Cody sped towards the hospital. 

Meanwhile, back at the gun store, the bewildered owner had regained consciousness. He looked at the bullets and firearms scattered across the floor, feeling somewhat puzzled. 

"That's strange, it feels like not much was taken..." 

"Mr. Burton, is it?" 

A police officer walked up and asked, "You reported a robbery earlier. What was stolen?" 

"Oh, I..." 

Just as he was about to answer, the owner habitually put his hand in his pocket and unexpectedly felt a thick wad of paper in his trench coat. 

"Umm, you know, is it possible this was just a joke played on me by a rather strange customer...?" 

"What?"