In the presidential suite of the Century Five-Star Hotel.

"Boss, just relax. This is our Jiang family's property. Even if our family's influence is weakened inland, I, O’Neil, doubt they dare to search here. It's just a deputy director—what's the big deal?" The rich playboy O’Neil rolled his eyes, his voice booming. He was like a chameleon; one moment full of disdain and arrogance, the next moment, he was all smiles, serving Russell tea, ingratiating himself with a sycophantic grin. "Boss, why not come back to Hong Kong with me? I guarantee nothing will happen to you, and there'll be plenty of women."

"Get lost," Russell replied irritably. "You want me to go back to Hong Kong just to have your grandfather chase me down?"

That massive and rare mutton fat jade seal was a treasure money couldn't easily buy. Russell understood well how those old folks cherished such seemingly useless things, treating them like family heirlooms. Now that this rascal had stolen it, if Jiang Fuqi realized his jade seal had been cut into pieces, he would be furious. Russell wasn't foolish enough to walk into trouble by going to Hong Kong.

"Hehe, don't worry. I had a replica jade seal made that's good enough to fool anyone. My old man doesn't look at it often, and it's stored securely. He definitely won't find out. If he did, would we still be lounging here so leisurely?" O’Neil lounged carelessly, completely unfazed. This rich heir's attitude reminded Russell why there's an old saying in China, "Wealth doesn’t last three generations."

With a prodigal like this, it only takes one to squander a family fortune, let alone several. Thankfully, the Jiang family in Hong Kong had yet to fall under his control.

"How's the information I asked you to gather?" Russell asked, knowing O’Neil's personality meant he couldn't afford to be polite with him.

"When Master O’Neil handles things, there's no question of success or failure." O’Neil snapped his fingers, only to realize that the hotel manager's fawning attendants had been sent outside by Russell. Dejected, O’Neil retrieved a stack of documents himself.

This dossier contained all the background and personal details of Chen Jincheng. In today's information age, unless someone is extremely high-ranking or uniquely privileged, it's usually not difficult to uncover personal histories. Chen Jincheng, a billionaire real estate tycoon, was notable in southern Beijing but far from untouchable.

Russell took the documents and read them silently, his frown deepening with each page. After half an hour, he exhaled and rubbed his temples. "Jiang, I need to know the whereabouts of Chen Zhuonan and his daily routines."

Having reviewed the data, Russell understood where he had erred grievously. It wasn't just a lack of caution when selling contraband to Wang Nan; it was a misstep to act without fully grasping his adversary's connections.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Chen Zhuonan, Chen Jincheng's younger brother, was the district head and a standing committee member of the district party committee in Xuanyang District, the top official there. Russell had recklessly targeted his brother in Chen Zhuonan's domain—tantamount to courting disaster.

Moreover, Chen Zhuonan's wife's background was even more staggering. His father-in-law was the former deputy secretary of the Jingnan City Party Committee. Although retired for several years, his established influence remained. This revelation was startling.

The only piece of good news was that Chen Zhuonan's wife had passed away years ago, and they had no children. Over time, the bond with his father-in-law had weakened, especially given the latter's disdain for Chen Zhuonan’s increasingly disreputable behavior.

This discovery offered Russell a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil.

"If something were to happen to Chen Zhuonan, do you think his father-in-law would intervene?" Russell asked out of the blue, eyes still on the documents.

O’Neil, who had almost sunk into the leather sofa, was initially taken aback by the unexpected question. He then furrowed his brows and smirked. "He'd get involved, certainly. It's his person, after all. But it depends on how far he'd go, since his daughter is long gone, and Chen Zhuonan didn’t have any children."

O’Neil’s insight offered Russell a new perspective on the seemingly frivolous heir. Despite his wasteful tendencies, O’Neil understood family dynamics and power structures. Even prodigal sons of affluent families couldn't be entirely underestimated.

"A life extinguished..." Russell repeated the phrase silently to himself, then abruptly added, "What if Chen Zhuonan suddenly died?"

"Suddenly died?"

"What?" O’Neil shot upright, his eyes gleaming. "Wow, boss, you’re not thinking of..." Before O’Neil could finish, Russell silenced him with a look.

"I knew it. I knew you were no ordinary person. Anyone who can discern dice rolls so precisely can't be anything less than a martial arts expert," O’Neil chuckled. "Boss, if you won't teach me the art of gambling, how about some martial arts? Or maybe Kaiser's Iron Cloth skill?"

The rich kid gazed at Russell with eager admiration, making him feel uneasy. What kind of imagination conjured someone like this?

Russell sighed inwardly. The notions of listening to dice, mastery in gambling, and martial prowess were misaligned with his actual abilities. Yet, no matter how he explained, O’Neil refused to listen.

Resigned, Russell dismissed O’Neil to handle some tasks, then returned his focus to the documents. After a while, Russell made up his mind, smiled coldly, and accessed the system shop.

"Chen Jincheng, your good days are numbered."

...

Three days had passed since the police escape incident at the Dafu villa compound. While traces of Russell could be followed that first night, now all trails had gone cold.

Though these days seemed calm, Commissioner He couldn’t shake the ominous words Russell had left behind. Although the primary target of vengeance wasn’t himself, his role as an accomplice left He feeling deeply unsettled, with an instinctive sense of foreboding.

He regretted involving himself in this treacherous situation. But it was too late for remorse. He could only hope his usually keen intuition was wrong for once.

Unfortunately, just as he began to feel somewhat reassured, trouble arrived.

"Director, Director, something terrible has happened..."

"What’s this racket? Have some composure. Are you not an important enforcement officer?" He scolded, though his heart dropped, noting the urgency in his subordinate’s voice.

"It’s... some of our colleagues involved in the villa drug raid have encountered problems," his aide reported with a grimace, struggling to contain his shock as he relayed the news.

"What happened?" He stood up abruptly, realizing that the matter was more serious than he had feared.