Chapter 135: Return

In 2008, on February 25, Li Mingbo, who had worked for twenty-seven years at the Modern Group and was born in Osaka, Japan, ascended to power and officially became President of South Korea, moving into the Blue House.

Wang Yan's power was limited; he had no decisive influence over events at this level. So what was meant to happen still happened—Li Mingbo still took office.

But Wang Yan wasn't entirely useless: aside from his earlier alignment, he secretly colluded with… and helped elect several legislators, and secured a few positions in Bishan City's administration. Overall, the gains were decent.

Also on this day, a low-profile legislator died in a car accident; two recently retired legislators died—one from a heart attack, the other from an overdose of stimulants. Additionally, the head of the Bishan Police Department, the same official who had once called the Bishan Town Police Station to wrap things up, died of illness.

It was all coincidence…

As for the former station chief, he told Wang Mou that he could still shine and contribute, so he was promoted from Chief Superintendent to Police Commissioner, becoming the de facto head of the Bishan Police Department.

In short, this election was a crucial step for Wang Mou in gaining control of a metropolitan region.

Over the past year, the World Society had established a foothold in all major South Korean cities—underground casinos, loan-sharking, entertainment complexes, and other traditional industries flourished. They generated massive cash flow and provided plenty of free labor, since loans had to be repaid.

Under Wang Yan's covert control, the Jinmen Group underwent a massive purge. Previously, Jinmen had been a consortium with shareholders—something unacceptable to Wang Yan. So he slowly inserted his own people, using coercion, bribery, and outright theft to seize all their shares. He replaced every position from top to bottom, fully transforming Jinmen into a centralized organization.

He then modeled Jinmen after the World Society, opening upward mobility channels and implementing tiered screening. In the past, Jinmen's leadership—standing at Shi Dongchu's position—certainly wanted this. But such a move was a reallocation of power, an internal revolution. And revolutions break old rules and establish new order. This approach would have isolated him completely from Jinmen; within three days, he'd either die in a car accident or vanish—either way, he'd die a miserable death.

Now, Wang Yan's approach was far better. After Han Yongzheng and Lin Minzhe had represented two factions in a power struggle that killed many, and after integrating Jinmen, they killed even more. The ignorant were mostly dead; the survivors couldn't stir up much trouble.

With Han Yongzheng and Zhang Dongrui's cooperation, Jinmen Group and the World Society—the two top violent organizations in South Korea—fought regularly, occasionally killing each other's members, perfectly executing Wang Yan's order of "dividing and conquering."

They were all brothers—Zhang Dongrui and Han Yongzheng didn't understand why they had to kill each other.

Wang Yan, though wielding absolute power and immense wealth, still showed them some respect and patiently explained it all.

He wasn't afraid they'd rebel—not because of his enhanced security after two assassination attempts, not because of the several new villas he'd bought on another hill, not because of the firearms and ammunition stored in his space, not because of his own supreme martial strength. Even just the people he'd planted everywhere, openly and secretly—more likely, the moment they contacted their allies, Wang Yan already knew.

Moreover, he had another force—the one that had always served him. These were people he'd screened again and again. He held every detail of their lives tightly in his grip, wielding the carrot and the stick with mastery. Those who obeyed ate well, drank well, and had endless money. Those who didn't? Simple: kill their entire family.

Since the founding of the World Society, Wang Yan had ordered the deaths of far too many. People's hearts varied—ambitious men and turncoats were countless. With so many members in the World Society, a few traitors appearing occasionally was perfectly normal.

Given Wang Yan's ruthless policy of killing entire families without hesitation, these two wouldn't dare rebel without serious thought.

Besides, aside from occasionally checking in and maintaining control, Wang Yan didn't interfere in their affairs. They had money and power, and except for occasionally receiving orders, they operated entirely autonomously. To abandon their current wealth and status for an uncertain future was an excruciating choice.

Wang Yan believed they'd understand—they wouldn't be so foolish.

Over the past year, both organizations had promoted many elite subordinates. Now, combined, the two gangs had over ten thousand elite South Korean members—not counting those trained externally. This was only after Wang Yan kept raising the standards; otherwise, it could've exceeded twenty thousand.

South Korea's total population was barely fifty million. Directly, Jinmen Group and the World Society influenced over a hundred thousand people. If you counted indirect influence, the scope was far wider.

But South Korea's pie was too small to hold so many. So beyond securing their core forces, Wang Yan sent the surplus abroad—simultaneously expanding into Asia and the Americas. Each group developed independently, sometimes fighting each other, sometimes uniting against others, making things lively. Many small factions were quietly eliminated through deception and intrigue.

Oh, speaking of external affairs, there's one thing worth mentioning: Zhang Guangshan and Li Quan.

As system-assigned subordinates, Wang Yan treated them well, consistently supporting them over the years.

Zhang Guangshan was fine: with Wang Yan's backing and by absorbing Japanese trash from the local scene, he carved out a large territory on Kyushu Island. He invested heavily and secured official registration as a recognized gang. This was also because the Yamaguchi-gumi had little presence there—this region offered little profit, so they didn't care.

By contrast, Li Quan was a complete mess. Actually, in terms of achievements, he was far superior to Zhang Guangshan. After seizing a territory in Bangkok and leaving behind a few men, he directly moved into the Golden Triangle. Wang Yan supplied him with weapons and ammunition acquired from the Russians; Li Quan led his men to overthrow a minor general and took his place as the new boss.

But because of this, immense pride, combined with his surroundings, led the bastard to take drugs. When Wang Yan found out, he sent someone to bring him back, and without hesitation, broke one of his legs. After surgery and two days of observation, Wang Yan confirmed no major issues—just minor aftereffects—then assigned two subordinates to care for him and dumped him straight into Bishan Prison. One rule: if he couldn't quit, kill him.

Speaking of Bishan Prison, Ding Qing deserves a mention. Aside from the initial unpleasantness when the strongman was confirmed healthy and had to "test the path," the rest of his life was fine—just occasional beatings, and overall, he lived well.

Wang Yan wasn't afraid of anything else—only that Ding Qing might contract AIDS or something. If he died, Wang Mou would suffer the consequences, so after that first bout of disgust, he just let it go…

As for the Sihai Group, its logistics network now spanned all of South Korea, guaranteeing delivery within one day under normal conditions. Moreover, its international operations were no longer two pathetic little ships, but one sufficiently sized new vessel and eight smaller ones. It had transitioned from cross-border logistics to legitimate large-scale import-export trade.

Simultaneously, leveraging logistics convenience, it launched an e-commerce website, which was also doing well.

Its communication software and social media platform had become the most famous, most-used, and highest-traffic apps and websites in Asia outside China. After all, the hardest part was the beginning; once the product gained a critical mass of users and recognition, growth became smoother. Wang Yan consistently maintained product iteration—no one else could match it. Besides, he had no shortage of money, flooding the market with ads, achieving maximum impact. It was now expanding into Europe and America, negotiating with capital that had been waiting for years.

Other industries were also thriving. Last year, Qiao Aipao released the groundbreaking Aipao, officially opening the smartphone era. Anyone with sense knew the next big opportunity—and they were all positioning themselves for smartphones.

Wang Yan was no exception—he invested in building a factory and founded one. Whether the product was good or bad, once it came out, it was money—no different from money falling from the sky.

As for the secret formula research, over a year had passed, and only one mid-tier herb had been replaced. Meanwhile, foreign experts had synthesized one of its components—but it was useless.

All the formulas Wang Yan had provided were essentially the same: aimed at replenishing Qi, nourishing blood, strengthening tendons and bones, and consolidating the foundation. But the effects varied greatly depending on the herbs used—each formula involved dozens to hundreds of ingredients, with precise, strict dosages. A tiny deviation meant a massive difference—there were countless variations. So was that synthesized element even the right one?

Beyond this, all other industries were flourishing, especially during the past two years of the American subprime crisis—three words: making big money.

…………

Inside the seaside villa on the hill, Wang Yan put down the phone and frowned in thought.

It was the second day of the new president's term; the call had come from a cooperating official.

This old bastard had launched a rectification plan on his second day—targeting corruption, streamlining the civil service, improving efficiency. Moreover, since organized crime had grown increasingly rampant, severely disrupting public life and social order, he would launch a large-scale anti-gang campaign to give the people justice.

Politicians were always like that—playing the classic "kill the messenger after the task is done." But clearly, he'd miscalculated: Wang Mou wasn't a donkey—he was far more cunning than a donkey.

After thinking for a while, Wang Yan waved over a subordinate: "Want to be a boss?"

The subordinate froze. Having served under the boss for so long, he knew his temperament. And as someone Wang Yan personally summoned, he knew certain things.

Suppressing his excitement, he trembled and asked: "Boss, what do you mean?"

Seeing his reaction, Wang Yan nodded: "Alright, go find some low-profile people…"

The goal was obvious: target Jinmen Group and the World Society. After all, if you're going to strike, strike the strongest. Smaller gangs wouldn't even be noticed—too minor, police resources limited. Besides, once the two biggest gangs were crippled, wouldn't the rest fall in line?

Completely wiping them out? Impossible. Wang Yan had always been careful—these organizations were too deeply entangled to be fully dismantled. At best, he could render them superficially crippled: shut down street entertainment venues and underground casinos, arrest a few loan sharks who'd caused deaths, and crack down hard. That's all. Just some financial loss and the dispersal of many peripheral members. For these two gangs now, it was barely a problem—their main strength lay abroad; as long as they kept control inside South Korea, it was fine.

What Wang Yan wanted this subordinate to do was simple: while the spotlight was on Jinmen and World, and no one paid attention to smaller gangs, immediately launch a new one. Since the major cities were already divided between Jinmen and World, other gangs couldn't survive in the cracks. So this time, start from the countryside—surround the cities from the villages.

Then, when Jinmen and World were visibly weakened and forced to retreat, let the three gangs divide the territory. After that, just stir up trouble occasionally—fight, kill a few people—and do it all again.

As Wang Yan predicted, the crackdown was indeed aimed squarely at Jinmen Group and the World Society.

The next day, the old bastard signed the order.

Police and prosecutors across South Korea mobilized, launching a fierce assault on the two gangs.

The power of the state was no joke—when it acted seriously, no individual or small group could resist. On the day the order was issued, thousands of venues were shut down nationwide, and over a thousand arrests were made.

Suddenly, the streets changed—no more loiterers, the air even felt cleaner. The public felt this operation was excellent; they'd long been tormented and were exhausted. Now, finally, relief—so much better. As a result, Li Mingbo's approval rating rose slightly after just a few days in office.

But was it really that simple? Leaving aside smaller gangs, Jinmen and World had over a hundred thousand peripheral members. Even with maximum arrests, how many could they catch? The rest, terrified, might temporarily quit the gangs and lie low. But habits don't change easily—once this crackdown passed, these men, deprived of gang control, would become even more chaotic.

Besides, Wang Mou had already founded a new gang. Before long, it would be even more ruthless. Before, there were two gangs—fighting each other for fun. Now, there would be three—constantly brawling, making things far more intense.

At this point, Wang Yan had little left to do—except occasionally kill a few old bastards, have some fun with women, read books, study, and other activities—all tightly scheduled.

Considering his development in the real world, Wang Yan established an artificial intelligence laboratory.

This thing doesn't even mention how much reading Wang Mou has done, how many times he's been the big brother, and all the wisdom and experience he's gained through countless experiences. Just look at how major companies at home and abroad keep pouring money into it—how could you not understand what's going on?

Moreover, he has an even greater advantage: unlike other companies juggling multiple projects, he focuses solely on Shell AI's various directions—autonomous driving, deep learning, biometric recognition, data mining, and so on—and with that much money, he's certain Shell will outpace them.

As for the complaints about massive R&D investment and limited application scenarios, that has little to do with Wang Yan.

To be honest, the money he made in the film world was limitless; he didn't care one bit, and even if he burned the entire group to the ground, he'd still keep smashing cash into it.

So he'll focus on two areas going forward: artificial intelligence, and the improvement of secret medicine formulas.

…………

The stars and moon revolved, seasons changed, and before he knew it, it was November 2019.

After two election cycles, Wang Mou could proudly say one thing: in Fushan, it didn't need to be dark for his word to count.

Don't mention the gang affairs—he was having a blast in America…

His logistics company and internet company had both been spun off and listed; they were globally renowned multinational giants. Slowly, he extracted a great deal of capital, and combined with profits from other businesses of Fengdan Sihai Group, he poured it all into those two projects.

Over the past decade, the formula had been modified bit by bit: one expensive herb replaced, three mid-tier herbs swapped out, efficacy reduced significantly, side effects still present, and still expensive. Wang Yan's definition of side effects was simple: as long as the body could naturally metabolize and expel them within a certain time, it was fine. After all, he was a professional TCM practitioner—he understood this principle well. Yet even now, progress remained indefinitely distant.

Artificial intelligence, however, had made considerable progress; each of its sub-branches had achieved remarkable results. In this world, claiming to be world-leading might be exaggeration—he didn't specialize in everything—but saying it was among the world's top tier was unquestionable.

Not to mention R&D funding: in artificial intelligence alone, he had been number one for years, leaving the second-place company far behind. He also spent money or shared data to acquire certain technologies from other top companies—not comprehensively, but even partial access saved tremendous effort. He'd also used some underhanded tactics, though with poor results. After all, if it were that easy, the real world wouldn't be the way it was.

Less than two months remained before the New Year; if his guess was right, it was time for him to leave.

So recently, he'd been spending all his time in the lab reviewing materials.

He already remembered the medicine formula; this revision wasn't major, so recalling it wasn't difficult. The only thing he truly couldn't remember was the detailed experimental data—if he could, he'd have avoided countless detours.

As for artificial intelligence, the information was overwhelming. It was impossible to memorize it all—he wasn't photogenic, and whether his brain could even hold it all was another question.

So within two months, he needed to memorize as many key algorithms and development directions as possible. Back home, he'd reconstruct them step by step from memory. These past ten years hadn't been wasted; his computer skills were already LV5, and through focused study, his hardware and software expertise had improved. Once he wrote out the core components, he could start a company and recruit others to help.

Of course, the technology wouldn't be as advanced as it was now—after all, that was the collective wisdom of countless experts and professors; no matter how gifted he was, he couldn't reach that level. But with his ant-like persistence, it wouldn't take long.

…………

New Year's Eve.

Wang Yan drank with Zhang Guangshan and Li Quan.

Zhang Guangshan was doing fine; Li Quan had his leg broken by Wang Yan and now walked with a slight limp.

Wang Yan didn't care whether Li Quan harbored resentment; as long as he showed outward respect and didn't make secret moves, let him do whatever he wanted. As long as Wang Yan didn't see it, no matter what Li Quan thought inside, it didn't count as resentment. Over these years, Li Quan had lived peacefully…

After getting both of them drunk and passed out, Wang Yan walked to the mountaintop and looked out at the sea.

Nothing in this world was worth his lingering—only that he hadn't managed to take all the data with him.

As for Ding Qing, after beating him for two years, Wang Yan stopped tormenting him. At first, Ding Qing resisted, even tried to kill himself; later, his spirit was completely shattered—he was utterly broken.

Wang Yan had no more interest in manipulating him; the price had already been paid, so he'd been fed and cared for until now, growing so fat he was unrecognizable…

Wang Yan shook his head and stopped thinking further.

Pulled up the interface, selected return…

A flash of blue light…