Chapter 221: Curse Kill! A Mob of Incompetents!

In a large institution somewhere in Washington, D.C.

Houston frowned as he stared at the documents in his hands.

In America, collusion between government and business was an open secret.

Many positions had hierarchical levels; without backing from capitalists of the corresponding rank, you could never reach that position.

Of course, this was true most of the time.

There were still stories of lower-ranking individuals rising up.

But they usually gained the support of those elites after assuming high office, successfully becoming one of them.

Houston was no exception.

Aside from his own family, his greatest backer was W Company.

But honestly, Houston disliked this company; due to his FBI professional habits, he always felt something was off about it, that it was doing unknown things behind closed doors.

He once tried investigating and uncovered some chilling information.

The company had branches in several major cities across southern U.S. states, recruited special members, armed them, established bases, and conducted secret operations.

Had he not known the backgrounds of W Company’s board members, he would have suspected ties to foreign organizations or domestic new sects.

Because even former CIA agents were among their recruits!

Of course, due to his position as Deputy Director, retired FBI agents were actually the primary targets for recruitment.

This somewhat solved the retirement placement issue for agents, and he could not stop it.

Moreover, he could not stop it.

Just like now.

“Sigh, being restrained feels unbearable.”

Houston stared at the document labeled “The Consumer,” his eyes thoughtful; according to W Company’s latest instructions, they wanted to teach this company a lesson—just demand half its shares.

But he had checked: this company had plenty of problems, all covered up, yet the borderline traces could not be erased; with the right methods, arresting its CEO temporarily would be easy—after all, the interpretation of law rested in his hands.

Then, he could cut deeper…

So…

“Looks like I need to ramp up the pressure. Don’t blame me—it’s your own fault for being blind and refusing to share.”

Houston shook his head and wrote “Investigate” on the document.

Suddenly.

!!!

His battle-tested danger sense flared violently, as if facing a lethal threat.

He leapt to his feet without hesitation, rolled under his desk—this desk was specially reinforced, capable of withstanding large-caliber bullets and ordinary explosions.

Simultaneously, he drew his pistol, chambered a round, and peered sharply through the gap toward the outside.

The entire motion flowed seamlessly, flawless.

But the next second, his eyes widened, he gasped, clutched his chest, and collapsed onto the floor.

Within seconds, he lost his breath.

A group of agents rushed in upon hearing the commotion, only to find Houston, the famed Deputy Director, dead in his office from a myocardial infarction.

A political storm began.

…

Louis stared at the effigy, now successfully cursed, surprised.

He had expected some difficulty—the man was a Deputy Director, surely he’d have protective measures.

Yet it succeeded so easily?

Unbelievable.

But regardless, it had succeeded; now he needed to consider what came next.

“Now, who else needs to die?”

Louis rubbed his chin in thought.

After brief consideration, Louis realized he had already resolved the major problem; the minor ones didn’t require his direct action—he could leave them to Jordan.

He couldn’t handle everything himself.

“Hmm, no, I can’t leave yet—I must watch the Church and the Bureau, see how they react.”

With something this big happening, it would be strange if neither side showed any movement.

Shaking his head, Louis resumed cultivating the Demon-Refining Heavenly Heart Method, and also needed to consecrate his magic treasure.

He was very busy.

In fact,

Just as Louis had expected,

Both giants had stirred.

Just one day later, both received the news.

The Church.

The seventy-five-year-old Pope stared at the message on his phone and shook his head—America had indeed descended into chaos.

This dark wave’s primary target was America, and now, as expected, it had begun.

Thinking of the capitalists, the Bureau, and the widespread new sects across America, the old Pope couldn’t help but ache with headache.

And the Holy Knights Order still hadn’t been fully rebuilt.

He could do little, forced to compromise with the secular world.

Finally, he issued a conservative order:

Continue investigation—only pursue the demon; avoid conflict with the Bureau as much as possible.

Meanwhile, in Washington.

The Bureau’s headquarters.

Also embroiled in debate.

Five senior officials argued fiercely—disagreements abounded: some wanted to find the true culprit and fulfill the Bureau’s duty, others wanted to cover it up and swiftly seize the assets of the two dozen or so capitalists, still others aimed to install their own people to claim the Deputy Director’s position…

In short, a complete mess.

The worst scenario Louis had imagined was utterly impossible!

Human disunity was even more absurd than he’d thought.

Half a month passed.

In those fifteen days, events became utterly surreal.

First, the stock market’s planned crackdown abruptly collapsed; then, dozens of companies of all sizes faced crises—inheritors died, chairmen and CEOs perished.

Oh, some claimed they were on medical leave, but under these circumstances, everyone tacitly assumed they were dead.

A spontaneous, frenzied purge formed.

Everyone turned their eyes toward the weakened “them.”

The Consumer Company joined this feast of plunder—now, no one cared about this medium-sized fish anymore.

And this was only on the economic level; in politics, the vacant Deputy Director position grew even more complex…

But none of this concerned Louis; after confirming the incident wouldn’t implicate The Consumer Company, he left immediately.

He had stayed too long—summer break was ending, and he still hadn’t seen Mary and the others.

But before leaving, Louis gave Jordan one specific instruction:

Handle matters yourself whenever possible—don’t keep bothering me. What’s the point of having a subordinate if you can’t act independently?

Use your inherited cunning, cultivate your own politicians, manipulate the system with skill!

…

This incident seemed over.

But it wasn’t—because it didn’t just affect the Church and the Bureau; W Company, the direct victim, had remained silent.

Yet W Company was currently distracted by another matter, temporarily unable to investigate.

(End of Chapter)