Chapter 936: Simple But Effective

Lans looked at the desk calendar—there were still a few days left; should he target this… Mr. Walter?

He sat there thinking, while everyone around him remained silent.

Killing Mr. Walter… wasn’t necessary; killing this man would only further inflame his conflict with the Labor Union, though it was already severe, he wasn’t yet the top priority.

But if Mr. Walter were eliminated, Lans wouldn’t just shake the Labor Union’s foundations—he’d directly strike at them, and the implications would be entirely different.

The Labor Union would surely concentrate all their strength against him; if they launched a nationwide strike without regard for consequences, the outcome would be catastrophic!

So Mr. Walter couldn’t be harmed.

He couldn’t be harmed, yet Lans needed to make him understand that he shouldn’t casually break the rules—what should he do?

He thought for a moment, then couldn’t help smiling; this was Jincheng City, his territory.

From police to judges, all were his people; whatever he said, was law!

That night, Mr. Walter returned from his social engagements and sensed that some local dignitaries looked at him with a hint of pity during their interactions.

He understood most of them were merely here to watch a spectacle, since his opponent was the Lans family.

These dignitaries merely sought to offend no one, maintaining the barest semblance of decency with the Labor Union.

They couldn’t possibly ignore such a major figure in Jincheng City—what if this unfamiliar “Mr. Walter Carril” took offense? That would be terrible.

So they still attended the gatherings, even standing together chatting, sometimes laughing loudly at someone’s joke.

From the social interactions, nothing else could be seen—only that they were close friends.

Every competent politician must be a skilled actor—this saying was utterly correct.

When Mr. Walter walked into the hallway with a genial smile, the moment the door closed, his smile vanished completely.

He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his face, then stuffed it back into his pocket.

These fucking bastards!

He cursed silently, then got in his car and returned to the hotel.

Sitting on the sofa, he tilted his head back; he’d drunk a bit of alcohol and felt dizzy. Logically, he knew he should think of nothing now, but his mind refused to obey.

This kind of bodily disobedience often happens to humans—gamblers say “just one more hand,” drunks say “one last drink and I quit.”

Not to mention chain-smokers who swear “just one last puff and I’ll never smoke again”—and of course, yourself—

“After this one fight, I’m done for good.”

As he drifted in thought, the room’s doorbell suddenly rang.

Only Mr. Walter was in the room. “Who’s there?”

“Room service.”

Mr. Walter glanced around; the suite held only him—his aides were staying in other rooms. He rose, holding his temple, walking toward the door. “I didn’t call room service.”

He wasn’t overly concerned about being harmed—such a large hotel had security guarantees, and his assistants were downstairs; he could reach them quickly.

And most crucially—his status.

Even if the Emperor’s envoy were utterly despicable, hated by all, no one would dare harm him.

Everyone knew one thing: harming the envoy meant slapping the Emperor in the face.

Either die—or rebel!

If the Emperor were incompetent and foolish, rebellion might be justified.

But the Labor Union wasn’t such an Emperor—it was in its prime, at its strongest.

With his position as rotating Vice Chairman, any organization or person attempting to move against him faced immense difficulty.

At best, the entire city would strike; at worst, the entire state, region, even the Federation would strike!

Even the President himself, face to face, could only curse him—harming or killing him was utterly impossible.

So he made no great preparations and trusted that the city’s rulers and administrators understood this principle—even better than anyone else.

They’d only protect themselves, never harm themselves!

He’d need to be slightly cautious when leaving Jincheng City—but that was for later. He’d consider it only after resolving matters with Lans.

When he opened the door, a girl dressed as a hotel attendant wheeled in a cart. “Sir, someone ordered you a meal, along with water and drinks.”

He had no interest in the food on the cart, but the water—he was very interested.

“I won’t eat the food. Just give me the water.”

As he spoke, the girl had already wheeled the cart inside. Mr. Walter paused briefly, then courteously stepped aside.

After the attendant arranged the food and handed him the water, he said thank you, then turned toward the sofa to retrieve his clothes.

He intended to leave a tip—it was a gentlemanly gesture. But as he turned to give it to the attendant, he found her standing directly before him, suddenly embracing him and biting his shoulder.

Mr. Walter froze. The pain triggered an instinctive shove—he tried to push her away.

In shock, humans exert unnatural force; the attendant was thrown backward, overturning the cart and crashing heavily beside it.

He reflexively moved to help her up—but then saw her disheveled hair, torn collar, and a distinct purple bruise on her chest, clearly from a violent squeeze.

The next second, a piercing scream erupted right beside his ear.

A chilling sensation gripped him. He saw the attendant’s eyes turn dangerous—but then, numerous hotel staff and security guards burst into the room.

“Fuck!”

Seeing this, Mr. Walter’s drunkenness vanished. He looked around—at the faces staring at him: contempt, disbelief, gleeful malice. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

He’d considered many possibilities from Lans—but never this vile tactic.

This tactic might work on minor players—you accuse a petty thug of assaulting a waitress, and people think it’s exactly what he’d do.

But when applied to a major figure, it becomes a massive problem.

Ordinary people won’t lose their jobs over an unzipped fly—but major figures will.

He’d given up resisting. He stood quietly. Soon, his aides rushed in, staring at Mr. Walter and the girl sobbing on the floor.

Their minds couldn’t comprehend what had happened!

Mr. Walter’s assistant stepped forward, whispering, “What happened?”

He remembered bringing Mr. Walter back, escorting him to his room, and closing the door himself.

From the moment he left until now, very little time had passed.

Mr. Walter sighed. “Get me a lawyer…”

Before the lawyer arrived, the police came. They’d received the call and responded at record speed—the fastest in Jincheng City’s history—arriving in five minutes.

They asked a few brief questions, then signaled Mr. Walter to come with them.

He didn’t resist. He knew exactly what resistance would cost.

If Lans’s people had harmed or killed him, the Labor Union would erupt in fury!

It would be the greatest injury and provocation imaginable to the Labor Union, to twenty million workers!

But if he—was arrested for attempting to assault a girl—the Labor Union would only wish to sever ties with him before the scandal spread.

His only option now was to resolve this case through legal, official channels.

When he arrived at the police station, the lawyer arrived too.

“Sorry to drag you out this late!” Mr. Walter walked over and shook the lawyer’s hand.

The lawyer smiled, making a light joke: “Actually, I hope you contact me outside work hours—then I can charge you double!”

“But don’t worry—the bill will go to the Labor Union, not you!”

They both chuckled. The lawyer glanced at the officer outside the door. “So…”

“Before I arrived, you didn’t say anything, right?” The lawyer closed the door and sat across from Mr. Walter.

Mr. Walter shook his head. “From the moment it happened, until they dragged me into the car and brought me here, I said nothing.”

“They asked me questions. I didn’t answer.”

The lawyer approved, offering direct praise: “Good.”

In truth, surprise interrogations still work—some people can’t handle pressure and slip under questioning.

Interrogators fear silence more than babbling.

Once you speak—even nonsense—there are hidden logical threads you didn’t notice. They peel back your mind layer by layer, and uncover your secrets!

Say nothing. Make no statement. Sign nothing. Nod nothing. Admit nothing. That’s the first rule when arrested.

Then he carefully studied Mr. Walter’s attire. “Where’s your shirt?”

Mr. Walter now wore a police-issue shirt, faded and worn, with the Jincheng Police Department badge on the chest pocket.

For someone like Mr. Walter, his clothing was always dignified. This shirt was clean, odorless—but to upper-class eyes, its lack of dignity had nothing to do with cleanliness or smell.

“That girl bit me. Both my clothes and skin bore tooth marks. They said it was evidence, demanded I remove it, and took photos of the wound.”

The lawyer frowned slightly. “Now you can tell me what happened.” He lit a cigarette and listened in silence.

When he heard Mr. Walter had been drinking, that only the two of them were in the room, and that he’d been bitten, the lawyer’s subtle facial shift was instantly noticed.

“What is it?” he asked.

The lawyer rubbed his temple. “She bit your shoulder—that means you were pressed extremely close, possibly pressed together.”

“Combined with your other testimony and Lans’s interference in local justice—I’m afraid your chances of winning are slim.”

“They’ll charge you criminally. So we must convince not the judge, but the jury—they’re sharp!”

The lawyer couldn’t help complimenting their opponents—this was indeed a brilliant tactic.

This would clearly be prosecuted as attempted rape—a full criminal case, a serious offense. Unless the plaintiff requests a jury recusal, the court will appoint one.

Jury members here are selected from local volunteers, who receive modest compensation—a kind of social benefit for those who qualify.

If the Lans family were a notorious gang, this case would have high odds of success!

Jurors might simply want to make the Lans family miserable, rendering rulings blatantly illogical.

But the Lans family’s reputation in Jincheng City is damn good!

It was incredible to an unbelievable degree!

Almost everyone said they were good—they abolished all kinds of fees, prevented police from harassing civilians, and organized the distribution of relief food and supplies while maintaining public order!

They did everything the government could do, and even things it couldn’t do—there was nothing left that could shake their standing in the hearts of ordinary people!

“...So the jury will definitely side with the plaintiff.”

“They have ample evidence, and also ample motive to prove you might have done it...”

Mr. Walter interrupted him, “I never once thought about raping a female server!”

“Fuck, I just want to blow off some steam—I could easily spend money and get a bunch of girls. I have no reason to lay a hand on a server!”

At this moment, Mr. Walter was furious—this charge was truly fucking outrageous!

If it stuck, his life would be ruined!

He had originally planned that after the Workers’ Party was established, he would become a high-ranking party official, and perhaps even enter government service as a cabinet minister.

But if he carried a charge of attempted rape, he would never have a chance to become a big shot—he’d be stuck behind the scenes forever, never holding any position of power. Lans was going to destroy him!

The lawyer nodded as he listened, “I know, I know, Mr. Walter—I understand everything you’re saying. But you don’t need to convince me, or the judge. You need to convince those illiterate jurors!”

“They don’t care whether your story makes sense. They’ll almost certainly believe the server’s version. They love the idea that rich people are bastards. Do you understand?”

“This story isn’t written for you, or for me, or for any rational, calm person. It’s written for the illiterate lower classes!”

“They’ve been hurt enough by the upper class. Now, with this opportunity—and since the story is convincing—we have very little chance of winning.”

“The only option left is to appeal to the circuit court after this trial. But I also have bad news to tell you, Mr. Walter.”

“All appeals in Licaile State are heard by the Ninth Circuit Court—and the Ninth Circuit Court is in Mantong. In other words, it’s still Lans’s territory.”

“You’ll have to keep appealing just to avoid prison. But here’s the worse part: if you go further, to the Federal Supreme Court, the people who decide your fate aren’t from the Social Party—they’re from the Free Party. And both share one trait—”

Mr. Walter gave a helpless, despairing look, “They both hate the Labor Union!”

“Bingo!” The lawyer nodded, “So... forgive me for being blunt—we don’t need to figure out how to defend your innocence.”

“Honestly, even the top lawyers from Jinzhuan Law Firm couldn’t do anything in this situation.”

“Our defense strategy should focus on whether you actually need to go to prison!”

“Drinking is evidence of your mistake, but also indirect proof that your intent wasn’t malicious—drunk, your mind was impaired, you did something stupid. People will understand you.”

“They need to convince the jury. So you and I need to convince the public that you acted on a momentary impulse, and that you’re willing to make amends and pay any price!”

The lawyer paused, “Of course, I’ll report this to the Labor Union and have them send more lawyers over.”

“They might have new defense strategies—perhaps even a path to acquittal.”

Hearing this, Mr. Walter grew despondent, but then suddenly seemed to remember something: “I want to speak with Lans. You have to help me!”

The lawyer understood his meaning—if a deputy chairperson was willing to humble himself and pay a price now, perhaps Lans would reach a settlement with him.

It was clearly a setup—any smart person could see that. But the problem was, as he said:

When the power to decide whether an upper-class man is guilty lies in the hands of the lower classes, they sometimes don’t remain neutral.

Only Lans could possibly resolve this!

The lawyer nodded, “After I leave, I’ll contact Lans as soon as possible. In the meantime, say nothing. Don’t admit to anything—even if it seems harmless.”

“I’ll tell them I’ll see you again tomorrow. Then I’ll bring news from Lans’s side.”

“Now...” He patted his pants and stood up, “Good luck!”

(End of Chapter)