novel-bin Page 188
Page 188
It's just that it's a little difficult to control the steering when turning.
The problem is not big.
Using teleportation to control steering is perfectly fine.
Chapter 118 The Real Crisis! The Beginning of Destruction?
Running wildly is not running aimlessly.
Running wildly is not the same as blindly sprinting.
Instead, it's running with direction, rhythm, and a goal.
It requires not only a deep understanding of the current situation, but also a strategic calibration of the path ahead, and an understanding of the dialectical relationship between "running wildly" and "running haphazardly".
Anyway, for Ian, who no longer needs to take the civil service exam, controlling his running pace is not an easy task, mainly because the speed of his legs with the Speed Force external is just too fast.
Ian's reaction speed was nowhere near the speed of the Speed Force's legs. So several times he had to rely on anticipation and use teleportation to forcefully change direction and avoid obstacles.
Everything around seemed to have stopped.
Without the eyes of a speedster, Ian's eyesight was poor; the buildings on either side were blurred into blocks of color, and the oncoming car headlights formed a blinding river of light.
It was just a brief moment of confusion.
Suddenly, a crossroads crowded with drunk men and women appeared before him.
"Disdain for leaps!"
Fortunately, Ian's reaction speed wasn't bad either, just not quite at the level of a speedster. He immediately used his teleportation skill to leap to the front of the obstacle.
The drunkards escaped a terrible fate, avoiding becoming a pile of minced meat—Ian also escaped a terrible fate, avoiding becoming the train engine that ran over the protagonist's girlfriend in the world of "The Boys."
"This speed is somewhat beyond our expectations."
Ian continued to charge forward, propelled by the Speed Force in his legs.
"Pfft~"
Behind.
He left behind an afterimage when he activated teleportation.
He farted wildly at the group of drunk men and women who were having a wild time in the middle of the road.
This is one of the uses of the [Tyrant's Shadow] that Ian has newly researched: it can convert the energy left behind into an explosion... or perhaps it's not just an explosion in the conventional sense.
Poop, pee, and farts.
You can choose one of the three.
How can this not be considered a good deed?
The drunkards, who had been "bionically attacked," scattered and vomited violently. They were mostly sober now, and there would obviously be fewer people infected with syphilis warts in the metropolis tonight.
"dudu~"
A large truck behind them had its driver dozing off, thus avoiding the fate of having to exert himself to survive.
of course.
Ian knew nothing about any of this.
Because a second sharp bend was already looming in front of him. This time it was an alleyway piled high with trash cans, and Ian dodged to the side at the last second.
His back brushed past a rusty metal trash can.
The boxed lunches that had been thrown away in the trash can were overturned by the airflow, and the fried chicken pieces inside drew an arc in the air and landed right in the mouth of a homeless man sleeping on the ground next to him.
The aroma of the food prompted the homeless man to unconsciously utter a word of praise.
"Oh, it's my favorite fried chicken, it's so much better than donuts."
The homeless man murmured softly in his sleep.
"My dad's stuff is amazing, it must be a gift from God." The homeless man was awakened by the aroma of food and the strong wind. He found fried chicken in his mouth and began to chew frantically.
He didn't even notice that it was something that had splashed out of the trash can. In fact, he hadn't even seen Ian; Ian had run several blocks away by the time the homeless man woke up.
There were several close calls along the way.
However, Ian handled them all with ease.
“Thanks to the shared brain of the Asgardians… I never expected Thor’s brain to be so useful.” Ian was using the brains of his followers as biological computers.
This allows him to minimize the risk of collisions, even when his body is moving at high speed and his nerve reflexes cannot respond in a timely and effective manner.
Thor himself probably didn't realize his divine brain possessed such computational capabilities. Ian was also surprised, and he also didn't anticipate that the Speed Force's legs would be so unruly.
Ian is adjusting the direction.
But all it wanted to do was drag Ian around the city—the two legs of the Time Wraith were like wild horses that had been imprisoned for many years, dragging Ian through the night of the metropolis as it frantically used the Speed Force.
What they wanted to do could not be hidden from Ian's eyes, because Ian had already seen the Speed Force channel gradually forming, and these two pairs of legs clearly wanted to return to the Speed Force.
“Sizzle, sizzle—”
The vortex in the Speed Force channel was spinning erratically. However, before Ian could see what was inside, the crack collapsed as if it had been snapped shut by an invisible hand.
It does not allow passage.
Unwilling to give up, Ian continued his sprint, attempting to open a passage time and again, but each attempt ended in failure. Gradually, even the vortex of the crack disappeared.
Berserker Experience +2
Berserker Experience +1
Berserker Experience +1
……
Ian suffered lacerations in both legs, but he considered it a reward as he gradually tried to use his body to twist and control the direction of his exoskeleton legs as he ran.
The exoskeleton of the lower leg ultimately has no brain.
Ian, on the other hand, has more than one brain.
He also has the minds of his followers.
Therefore.
Two legs with superhuman speed were no match for Ian's cheat code—gradually, Ian was able to completely control the direction of his run, and he became like a red lightning bolt on the city's highways.
Under the night sky of the metropolis.
The red speeder whipped up a gust of wind in the rain.
Perhaps due to some characteristic of the Time Wraith itself, the red arcs of electricity leaped across the asphalt road like living things, and wherever they passed, the transformers on the utility poles burst into blinding sparks.
Amidst the sounds of explosions, "bang bang bang".
The lights along the entire street went out one after another.
Almost all the roadside shops were affected to varying degrees at night.
"Look! It's The Flash!" a drunkard shouted, pointing to the trail of lightning in the sky. "The Flash is in Metropolis! I'm not mistaken! That must be the Flash from TV!"
On a dark street.
The beams of several flashlights swayed wildly.
A well-dressed urban elite pushes open the glass door.
His face was gloomy.
"Running to the metropolis at night, the Flash is definitely up to no good!" This urban elite seemed to see through everything. He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and continued speaking with great certainty.
"Metropolis and Midtown are vying for the title of advanced city, so Midtown sent the Flash to sabotage Metropolis's image and try to make us look like a city that can't even afford electricity."
Urban elites are indeed elites, having endured the darkest trials of society. His words gave many a sudden sense of clarity, as if they had glimpsed the unknown side of superheroes.
"I never imagined that urban power struggles were just as ruthless as business battles... or even more vicious! I can't even drink coffee and work overtime anymore!" The female office worker holding the file folder gasped.
She felt she had found an excuse to ask for leave tomorrow.
The blame lies with The Flash.
Many people share similar thoughts with this female office worker and agree with the urban elite's speculation—that's just human nature, and they are more willing to believe in conspiracy theories that superheroes also collude with bureaucrats.
Just now.
At the entrance of a convenience store.
A reporter with a full beard walked out, munching on a hot dog—he had received a special bonus from the editor-in-chief for his previous report on the "Batman's Night Raid on the Widow in Metropolis" incident.
So you can eat four or five hot dogs at a time.
“It’s not necessarily a conflict between cities; this kind of topic is very difficult to get attention in the news,” the reporter said, squinting his eyes. His professional instincts told him that he had a bigger story to tell.
"Have you ever thought about it? The Flash is constantly generating electricity wherever he goes, so where does his electricity come from?" This was indeed a tricky angle, and the reporter's probing question immediately startled the onlookers on the side of the road.
Regarding the Speed Force.
Ordinary people certainly wouldn't understand.
They are more willing to believe in modern science, either what they have learned or what they have simply heard about.
"Could it be stolen electricity?"
A young man wearing a baseball cap stared in astonishment.
The reporter was taken aback at first.
immediately.
"Although I think that given the Flash's status, the government would definitely cover his electricity bill, your suggestion is also valid, and it would certainly generate more buzz."
The reporter immediately pulled out his laptop and began editing the news.
[Shocking! The Flash Mystery! Superhero or Electricity Bill Thief?]
He really has a knack for naming things.
It immediately generated a huge buzz.
"Just like Batman must have been bitten by a bat, the Flash must have been bitten by high voltage—he's an Indian electrician!" This comes after the previous discovery of Batman's origins.