Chapter 327: Plans Can't Keep Up with Changes (Happy Dragon Boat Festival, Friends)

Originally, the single-serving energy block production device was already on Ma Ma Zhaodi's purchase list—although it had been said before that San San Bengzi could get by on Earth energy, occasionally buying an energy block for her to improve her life would last a year at a time.

But if they encountered a high-intensity battle, San San Bengzi's energy would still be consumed rapidly—after all, the energy consumption of a three-wheeler weighing around half a ton would definitely be slightly different from that of a robot with superior computing power that weighs over ten tons after transforming.

As for why the size change was so great after transforming, Ma Ma Zhaodi wasn't clear either; he had once asked San San Bengzi about this, and her answer was: "Transforming elements are not Earth elements; we don't understand the so-called law of conservation of mass you're babbling about."

In short, there was no need to get the Transformers business so clear.

After seeing that the lowest-spec wallpaper room required its own power supply, Ma Ma Zhaodi simply placed the energy production device inside the wallpaper room; just right, San San Bengzi could use the solar panel shell to store electricity while setting up her stall every day, then put it into the machine to convert into energy blocks, which would then serve as the energy storage for both San San Bengzi and the room.

If Ma Ma Zhaodi used other electronic devices requiring large amounts of power in the future, the energy blocks could similarly serve as a universal energy source.

Ma Ma Zhaodi took out his phone to check again; although San San Bengzi had fallen, the nanobots outside the door were still faithfully carrying out their duties of cover and surveillance, which made him feel very reassured.

At this moment, the voice of Daimao came from the kitchen.

"Boss, boss, I can't find the seasonings, meow."

"Sigh, you idiot Daimao."

Ma Ma Zhaodi turned his head and entered the kitchen: "Next time I'll just get you a cat seasoning rack."

Time had reached two-thirty in the afternoon; Denton left Elizabeth's ward and walked out of Central City Hospital.

"If luck is good enough this time," he thought, "I can disguise the whole event as a common robbery-murder that won't be discovered."

"It definitely won't be discovered," he thought. "It definitely won't; I still need to spend the last little bit of time with Elizabeth."

Actually, he could have gone to settle the score with Steg after Elizabeth passed away, but in reality, a tiny sliver of fantasy still lingered in his heart: if Steg died, he might still have a sliver of hope to snatch back his experimental patent results from the Steg Group, which would be suffering from a stock price crash, chaos, and an urgent desire to hush things up.

For Elizabeth, that was the hope of life; for him, every second counted.

He took a taxi to a building near the Steg Building, walked into the building, and went down the stairs, where the surveillance was malfunctioning, to the underground parking lot—where a black van was parked.

As a scientist with a flexible mind, Denton had naturally made plans for his criminal itinerary today; after robbing the gun store in the morning, he had driven the black van to near the Steg Building to prepare for the afternoon assassination.

"One, two, twelve fully loaded guns, twenty-four spare magazines."

After carefully counting the guns and ammunition he had hidden in the empty parking lot, Denton immediately put on a mask, donned his jacket and pants, then started the car and drove out.

The time was now two fifty-seven; the taxi rushing from the hospital had encountered a bit of traffic on the road, making it two minutes later than the original plan, but Denton hadn't intended to enter early anyway—it was best to let everyone originally planning to attend this award ceremony enter first, so his van could avoid everyone's gaze and drive into the back alley beside the Steg Building.

When he arrived at the expected position, the time on his watch reached three o'clock sharp.

"It's not time yet," he thought. "Steg's speech won't start at three o'clock sharp; I'll wait another eight minutes. He still has to deal with those high-society types and won't leave directly at three ten." At three oh eight in the afternoon, Denton checked his watch, split into five clones, each holding a pistol in hand with another tucked at the waist, spare magazines in their pockets; six people carrying large bags quickly ran out of the van and entered the Steg Building.

"The venue has six exits," Denton recalled the detailed venue map and security point design in his mind while running. "Six people, each controlling one exit to prevent anyone from escaping halfway; disguise it as a robbery, kill Steg, then run back to the car through the exit near the back alley."

"Steg must die."

"Speaking of which, I find my story quite legendary."

In the lobby of the Steg Building, the man's voice rang out from the microphone, his tone sounding quite proud.

"I was once just an introverted, shy freshman at Central City University, not good with words, but now, I can proudly stand here before you all—winning this Annual Best Contribution Award."

A white-haired old man in his sixties stood on the podium, holding a trophy of honor, dressed in a suit and leather shoes, looking vigorous; he smiled as he spoke to the crowd below about his legendary life, looking completely like a successful person, an elite of the upper class—of course, he indeed was a successful person.

Whether it was the expensive suit on his body or the vast Steg Enterprise today, these things undoubtedly transformed into a dazzling halo, adding huge persuasiveness to his speech, even dyeing him with a touch of legendary color.

The upper-class people below, whether corporate executives, government officials, or children of celebrities, were also wearing top-tier suits, wearing famous watches and bags, listening to Steg's speech; they all showed smiles of agreement on their faces, clapping and sighing, thinking it wonderful, seeming to feel they had reached some kind of resonance of successful elites with this tycoon's speech content.

"In any case, learning of this great honor, I am extremely grateful," Steg continued. "And for me, the true glory is knowing that my research work in organ transplantation can give people a second new life."

"Thank you to all the distinguished guests for coming; today, I am deeply grateful."

The moment Steg finished his speech, the crowd's applause and surging forward surrounded him; these were all elites wanting to befriend and cooperate with him, all seeing the huge profits in this research.

At the tail end of the crowd, Barry Allen was also wearing a suit; beside him was Iris, who had come with him, but the two did not push forward, partly because they couldn't squeeze through the crowd of the rich and noble, and partly because they were just spectators coming in the capacity of science enthusiasts.

At this moment, Steg's bodyguard suddenly said something in his ear, which made Steg's expression brighten with joy.

"Really? That pharmaceutical giant wants to cooperate with me?"

"Yes."

"Prepare the car; we leave now."

The bodyguard's expression changed imperceptibly.

"What about the socializing?"

"If there are jackals to cooperate with, why bother with this group of little flies that came sniffing around?"

(End of this chapter)