"How did he die?" It took He Youqiang a long time to ask with a dry voice.
"A burst blood vessel," his subordinate replied hesitantly. "I heard he was engaging in vigorous activity at his lover's house and died suddenly."
The subordinate stammered, but finally added, "Multiple forensic experts confirmed it was due to a burst blood vessel."
"Leave now. Stop talking and get out." He waved his hand to dismiss the subordinate, then stood and rechecked the window seals before collapsing heavily back onto the sofa.
A burst blood vessel death was nonsense to him. He had never heard of Chen Zhuonan having hypertension, and it wasn't like the Chen brothers were strangers to women. Was it really just a coincidence that he died during intercourse?
He never expected it, never thought the person he had dismissed as a mere nuisance, using minor tricks to intimidate him, could unleash such a violent storm. Even the forensic experts found no other methods?
Only now did He realize why Chen Jincheng had been untouched. It wasn't that Russell hadn’t acted; he was systematically removing the foundation of Chen Jincheng's power. Russell was uprooting the very support that sheltered Chen Jincheng.
"So, am I next?" As this possibility dawned on him, cold sweat poured down He Youqiang's forehead. If even a district secretary could fall to such bizarre methods, what chance did a deputy district police chief have against someone so ruthless?
Regret filled him. Suddenly, his private office phone rang. Among his three office phones—one for official use, one for internal lines, and one personal line—this was the private line, known to very few.
Aside from his wife and children, only a few extremely close relatives knew this number. Typically, it would not ring.
Startled by the sudden noise, He nearly jumped from the sofa. He hesitated, eyeing the phone as if it were the harbinger of doom. While it was supposed to be family, an ominous feeling told him it might be the devil himself calling.
He wondered if Russell's mysterious, shadowy methods could somehow travel through the phone lines. The absurdity of the thought revealed how deeply rattled he was.
Stripped of his official duties, he was just an ordinary man. If he were fearless, incorruptible, why would he have engaged in such underhanded actions for a promotion?
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"Should I answer it or not?" He didn’t ponder for long, knowing the danger Russell posed couldn’t be ignored. The desperation of a cornered man could unleash terrifying power, especially in someone like Russell.
Taking a deep breath, He forced down his fear and picked up the receiver firmly.
Neither side spoke initially, leaving an eerie silence filled only by the sound of breathing. On Russell's end, there was a steady rhythm, punctuated by the sound of exhaling smoke. In contrast, He's breathing was labored and tense.
"What do you want? I know it’s... you." He finally spoke, trying to maintain a facade of calmness, but his trembling voice betrayed his fear.
"Heh, you should ask yourself why you're doing this," Russell replied with a cold laugh.
Over the past few days, Russell’s actions seemed simple, but the execution was fraught with danger. He could only control his pet beasts within a maximum distance of 140 meters.
Twice he nearly fell into police ambushes and underground trap, narrowly avoiding them with help from O'Neil's connections and precise information. Without it, he might have already been captured.
Even with Kaiser, the sheer number of firearms and resources against them was overwhelming. Unknown figures even infiltrated Jiang's Century Hotel yesterday, refraining from overt investigation due to the hotel's reputation and influence.
"You think you can threaten me? Let me tell you, I'm at the police station, guarded by dozens of guns, with my room sealed in tempered glass. The whole place is sprayed with high-concentration insecticide. Don't expect to use those methods on me," He retorted harshly, more to reassure himself than to intimidate Russell.
"Yes, you've fortified your nest well," Russell acknowledged, then shifted to a light, mocking tone, "But do you believe that in ten seconds, you'll feel a sudden pain, then alternating chills and heat, and then?"
"I don’t believe it. I won’t fall for your tricks, you devil. Wait until I catch you," He shouted back, slamming the phone down. Russell had achieved his goal and saw no need to continue the conversation with a man on the verge of breakdown.
"8...7...6...5...4...2...3...1..." Despite his disbelief, He found himself counting down, unable to quell the fear that Russell’s threat had planted.
Reaching zero without incident, he laughed, relieved, though his eyes and forehead were damp with sweat.
He was lucky—his determination and strength had withstood Russell’s psychological warfare.
"Ha, you thought you’d scare me? Not a chance." For a moment, He felt a resurgence of confidence. His fortified room had indeed kept him safe. As long as he held his ground, Russell couldn’t harm him, and he could continue tightening operations against him.
"If you try to play me, Russell, I’ll hunt you down..." His confidence rebounded, ready to order his team to tighten the net when suddenly his body froze.
"What?" Suddenly, he felt a warmth spreading through his body. Was it just the adrenaline from the confrontation? No, something felt off; his body temperature continued to rise, his throat dry.
"Impossible..."
But as his temperature soared towards 40 degrees Celsius, it abruptly dropped, a chill as if he were plunged into icy water.
A scream of pure terror echoed in the sealed room, though its soundproofing muffled the noise, leaving He's cries unheard.
"Russell, what will it take for you to leave me alone?" He finally acknowledged his mistake, calling Russell with desperation and pleading in his voice—something unheard of for a man of his power.