Chapter 92: Welma's Request to Ethan Blake
Yvette received the super fruit, her eyes brimming with excitement. She had long known that super fruits could be eaten more than once, with each one granting a new talent.
Could she really have a second talent now?
Yvette held the super fruit in both hands:
"Thank you, sir!"
Without hesitation, she consumed the super fruit.
[Transparency Fruit: C-Class]
[Consumes spirit energy, allowing the body to let visible light pass through, rendering it transparent. In nature, this is known as transparency. The user's body will neither reflect nor absorb light.]
Yvette's gaze froze for a moment.
Anyone with basic knowledge of physics would recognize that the absence of light reflection or absorption essentially meant invisibility.
While invisibility was highly practical and indeed extraordinary, it wasn't exactly an offensive ability.
Still, it was valuable.
In her transformed state as Werewolf, her strength and speed were significantly enhanced. Combined with invisibility, it might yield unexpected advantages.
Alexander had a specific purpose in mind when he chose this super fruit for Yvette.
As for whether she could unlock its full potential, that was up to her.
The following evening.
At the Bluewater Security Bureau.
Welma sat lifelessly in her office chair, her eyes vacant.
The sunset filtered through the window, casting a glow over her as she sat, almost like a puppet.
Vincent was gone.
Welma felt as if none of this were real. Why did her brother have to die?
Wasn't she the director?
Wasn't she A-Class?
A knock sounded on her office door.
Jonathan entered, witnessing this side of Welma for the first time.
He slowly walked over, gently patting her head.
"Welma..."
Welma lifted her head, her dried tears marking her face.
She looked at Jonathan in despair, her expression filled with fear and uncertainty.
Then she lowered her head, tears beginning to drip onto the floor once again.
"Vincent... Vincent is gone.
What... what should I do?"
Jonathan pulled her close, his heart aching painfully.
"It's okay, Welma. We'll find the killer!"
Welma could only sob uncontrollably.
"I shouldn't have let Vincent go after Willard Smith. I never should have.
Do you think... do you think he resents me?"
Jonathan sighed deeply and said,
"It probably wasn't Willard Smith. He's only E-Class.
Several D-Class officers were there that night, but they all died."
Welma didn't respond, burying herself in Jonathan's embrace, crying incessantly.
After a long while, she steadied herself, pushed Jonathan away, and left her office, heading straight for the surveillance room.
The young officer on duty was idling away, but upon seeing Welma, he jumped up and saluted in alarm.
Ignoring him, Welma took a seat and began rapidly typing on the keyboard.
Footage from dozens of street cameras popped up almost instantly.
She rewound the footage to the previous night and played it at 25x speed.
After a few minutes, she manipulated the controls again, pulling up additional surveillance feeds.
Welma's skills were formidable; she could mentally capture the surveillance images almost entirely.
Breaking them down, piecing them back together, and recreating the events of the night.
The sight left Jonathan, who had followed her in, stunned.
He had no idea Welma possessed such abilities.
Welma soon focused on a location—the Water Dragon Bathhouse.
The footage froze.
Willard Smith was seen leaving the bathhouse, while her brother and the officers lay in wait in the car.
"Could it... could it really have been Willard Smith?" Jonathan gasped in shock, then shook his head.
"No, that can't be.
Willard Smith must have had help; otherwise, he couldn't have killed so many. We just don't know who was aiding him."
Welma continued pulling up new footage, tracking until Willard Smith and Vincent's car left the surveillance area.
Then, there were no more images.
Welma was at a loss for what to do.
The officers on-site had reported traces of fire-type abilities at the scene.
Thinking of her brother's body, destroyed beyond recognition, Welma felt a wave of dizziness.
A bitter taste rose in her throat, and she coughed up blood.
Her face pale, Welma slumped helplessly in her chair, looking at Jonathan with despair:
"It's over... it's all over. Where am I supposed to find Willard Smith?"
Jonathan, visibly shaken, was at a loss for words, unable to offer any comfort as he watched her suffer.
At that moment, a young officer hesitantly spoke up:
"Should we hand this case over to Captain Ethan Blake?"
Hearing this, Jonathan exploded with rage:
"What did you say?!"
Letting the woman he cared for seek help from Ethan Blake?
What a humiliation!
Even though he knew Ethan had the skills to solve the case quickly, he couldn't stand the idea. Over the past few days, he had witnessed Ethan's abilities firsthand.
But after the way they'd mistreated him, would Ethan genuinely be willing to help?
And he'd heard that Vincent and Ethan didn't get along either.
Welma, however, seized upon the suggestion like a lifeline, pointing to the door and urgently ordering the young officer:
"Go, go! Get Ethan Blake! Quickly!"
The young officer responded immediately and ran out the door.
Jonathan sighed in resignation:
"Welma, do you really believe Ethan will help you after everything we've put him through?"
"Shut up!" Welma's eyes flashed with anger.
Jonathan opened his mouth but couldn't find the words to respond.
Soon, Ethan Blake knocked and entered.
Ethan no longer bore the confident appearance he once had. Now, he looked disheveled, with one arm missing, his gaze filled with fatigue and gloom.
Yet, within his eyes, there remained an indomitable wildness—a rugged man who'd seen too much, the kind many women found irresistible.
Welma, her eyes red and swollen, looked at Ethan imploringly:
"Captain Blake, my brother is dead. Help me find his killer.
There's no one else I know who has the ability to do this.
This isn't an order from the director; it's a sister's request."
Ethan nodded.
"I will."
Jonathan hadn't expected such a swift response from Ethan.
A thought suddenly crossed his mind—was it possible Ethan had assisted Willard Smith in killing Vincent?
After all, with Vincent gone, Ethan's position as chief officer would be secure.
Jonathan's brows knit tightly, his eyes fixed on Ethan, trying to discern anything suspicious from his expression.
He spoke abruptly:
"Give us a timeline."
Ethan glanced at Jonathan and replied:
"The security bureau doesn't have a set timeline for solving cases.
But for this kind of case, three days will be enough."
Jonathan's sneer froze:
"Three... three days?"
He had expected Ethan to drag it out, but he hadn't anticipated that Ethan would confidently say three days!
Even if he weren't the culprit, could he really find the killer in three days?
Ethan let out a dry laugh:
"Inspector Jonathan, besides checking up on officers, have you ever actually solved a case?"
With that, he turned and left.
Jonathan's face turned alternately pale and flushed. What was that bastard implying?!
Welma looked at Jonathan, wiping her tears with a tissue:
"Since Vincent's death, I've been desperately hoping someone would seek justice for me.
I was wrong to target Ethan... and thank goodness I didn't succeed in taking him down."
Since Ethan couldn't drive, Sarah took the wheel, driving Ethan toward Now Mu Cafe.
Sarah muttered angrily:
"People like Vincent deserve their fate. He was a menace while he lived.
Why are you taking this case, Master?!
Is it because Welma pressured you again?"
Ethan lit a cigarette, taking a long drag, his gaze cold:
"It's not about that.
Murdering the director of the security bureau—this is a direct affront to the entire security system!"
Sarah fell silent, focusing on the road.
Tonight, Master was returning to that eerie cafe, seemingly for another gathering.
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