Chapter 210: The Judgment Wang Tianhong

Tai Tao City, Cloudtop Manor.

This half‑mountain villa, costing over a hundred million, is now brightly lit, like a dazzling diamond set into black velvet.

Wang Tianhong sits on an Italian‑imported genuine‑leather sofa, swirling half a glass of Romanée‑Conti in his hand. The wine's hanging wall is beautiful; it is the sediment of time, also the taste of money.

But he has no mood to savor it.

He is waiting.

Waiting for the heart that should belong to his son to be sent back.

"Where are those useless ones, still no movement?" Wang Tianhong glances at the Patek Philippe on his wrist, his brows furrowing into a river‑shaped line, the irritation feeling like a swarm of ants crawling over his chest.

The butler beside him bends over, cold sweat covering his forehead, his speech a little stuttered: "Boss, Dao Ba Ge is unreachable; the person sent to rendezvous said… said the hospital was sealed off, seems something big happened."

"Big thing?" Wang Tianhong snorts coldly, slamming the wine glass heavily onto the marble coffee table. "In Tai Tao City, I, Wang Tianhong, am the sky. What big thing could happen? Unless the heavens fall."

He has never considered failure.

That guy called Chen Shao is merely a jobless low‑level corporate drone. Such a person is like roadside weeds; stepping on one, you don't even need to check whether your shoe sole is filthy.

At that moment, the three‑meter‑tall mahogany door of the living room emitted a muffled clang that made one's teeth ache.

Thud.

It wasn't pushed open.

Rather, something heavy slammed into it hard.

"Go check it," Wang Tianhong waves impatiently.

The two bodyguards exchange a glance, hands resting on the hard objects at their waists, and carefully move forward.

Just as they reach the doorway.

Zila—

The priceless crystal chandelier above erupts a burst of sparks without warning. Immediately, the entire villa plunges into pure darkness.

The backup power does not activate.

The security system's infrared sensors also fail to light up.

The darkness comes too fast, too thorough, like a giant beast opening its maw and swallowing all the light in one bite.

"What the hell! Where's the backup generator? What am I even feeding you for!" Wang Tianhong roars in the dark, his once‑unshakable confidence beginning to crumble.

No one responds.

The two bodyguards who just walked over make not even a wail, as if they evaporated into thin air.

Only the sound of rain.

Outside, the torrential rain slams the floor‑to‑ceiling windows, crackling, like countless hands knocking on the door.

Suddenly.

A bolt of lightning tears the night sky, its ghastly white light instantly illuminating the vast living room.

Wang Tianhong suddenly widens his eyes, every hair on his body standing on end in that instant.

On the single sofa opposite him, at some unknown time, a person is seated.

The person is drenched, rain mixing with dark‑red liquid, dripping down the pant legs onto the expensive Persian carpet, forming a small, shocking stain.

He still holds a damp File bag in his hand.

"Wang Zong, good evening."

Chen Shao pushes up the broken glasses on his nose, the frame only half intact, his tone flat as if chatting with an old friend.

If it weren't for that left eye emitting a crimson glimmer in the darkness.

"You are… the one surnamed Chen?"

Wang Tianhong, after all, has seen great storms; after a brief panic, he quickly steadies himself. He sneers, his hand silently reaching for the hidden compartment under the sofa cushion.

There lies a fully loaded Glock.

"Young man, I have to say, you're bold. To have escaped those cops and even made it here."

Wang Tianhong, while buying time, lets his finger touch the cold gun grip.

His heart steadies.

"Let's set a price," he leans back against the sofa, regaining his lofty posture. "How much money to quell your fury? Five million? Or the old amount, ten million?"

Chen Shao says nothing.

He simply watches Wang Tianhong quietly, that crimson left eye turning slowly, as if assessing a boar awaiting slaughter.

"Do you think I'm negotiating business with you?" Chen Shao tilts his head.

"Isn't that so?" Wang Tianhong suddenly draws his pistol, the black barrel pointing straight at Chen Shao's brow, a feral grin on his face. "Now, the initiative is in my hands! Kneel!"

With the gun in hand, the world is mine.

Wang Tianhong feels the situation is secure.

However, the next second, his expression freezes.

He tries to pull the trigger.

But his index finger does not move a hair.

Not only the index finger, his wrist, arm, even his entire upper body seem poured into cement, completely losing control.

"What… what kind of sorcery is this?!" Wang Tianhong shouts in terror.

"Shh."

Chen Shao raises a finger to his pale lips.

"Too noisy."

Pat—

It's the sound of the pistol hitting the carpet.

Immediately afterward, Wang Tianhong was horrified to discover that his legs were moving on their own. He stood up, stiff as a marionette, and walked to Chen Shao.

Then he bent his knees.

Thump!

He knelt before the man he regarded as a mere ant.

His kneecaps struck the floor hard, pain making his teeth chatter, yet no sound could escape his throat.

Chen Shao leaned down, his refined face smeared with blood, close to Wang Tianhong.

The vortex in his left eye swirled, making one feel dizzy.

"President Wang, I heard you love doing charity?"

Chen Shao tossed the soggy File bag onto the coffee table, and a stack of A4 sheets slipped out.

They were transfer agreements for all assets under Wang Tianhong's name, with the recipients being several of the country's most reputable children's critical illness relief foundations.

"Sign it."

Chen Shao handed over a fountain pen.

Wang Tianhong's eyes bulged. Those were the empire he had built through decades of cunning plunder! Those were his lifeline!

I won't sign! Not even death will make me sign!

He roared wildly in his mind, even trying to bite his tongue to kill himself.

Unfortunately, it was useless.

His right hand obediently took the pen.

He even thoughtfully wiped the tip's water stain on his sleeve.

Swish swish swish.

The sound of the pen tip scratching paper rang sharply in the silent living room.

Wang Tianhong stared at his own hand, using his familiar handwriting to sign his name on each transfer agreement. With every character he signed, his heart bled.

Even, overwhelmed by extreme grief and resentment, his tears and snot uncontrollably streamed down, smearing his face.

"See, isn't that generous?" Chen Shao picked up the signed File, satisfiedly blew the still-wet ink, "Now that looks like a true tycoon of Tai Tao."

Having done all that, Chen Shao stood up.

At that moment, his complexion was as pale as paper, his body swaying as if about to collapse. The burden on that left eye was too heavy; each use drained his life.

But he was still smiling.

He smiled a little nervously.

"The money's gone; next, it's time to settle the fate's bill."

Chen Shao pointed to the courtyard beyond the floor-to-ceiling window.

There was a huge temperature-controlled swimming pool, raindrops striking the surface and creating countless ripples.

"Your son loves swimming, doesn't he?" Chen Shao asked softly, "I heard he used to be on the school swim team?"

Wang Tianhong's pupils contracted sharply to the size of needle points.

A fear emanating from the depths of his soul instantly engulfed him.

No... no!

"Go."

Chen Shao's voice was light and airy, yet carried an irresistible command.

"Go down and accompany him."

Wang Tianhong stood up.

He didn't want to move, truly didn't want to move! He wailed inside, praying to the heavens for divine protection, begging anyone to save him.

Yet his legs took firm, steady steps toward the gate leading to the courtyard.

He pushed the door open.

A gale and torrential rain poured in at once.

The icy rain struck his face, waking his pig-headed brain a few moments, but also deepening his despair.

One step, two steps.

He reached the pool's edge.

The water, refracted by the lights, was a deep, eerie blue, like a massive coffin.

He hesitated not.

Splash!

Wang Tianhong leapt in.

Even though he was a swimming expert, even though the water wasn't deep.

But the moment he entered the water, his limbs and body were locked by that Weird power. He couldn't stroke, couldn't hold his breath, not even struggle.

He could only sink straight down like a stone.

Glug glug......

Bubbles surged from his mouth and nose.

The frigid pool water flooded his lungs, a pain like being burned by fire. The suffocation felt like an iron hand gripping his heart fiercely.

He kept his eyes open at the bottom, watching the vague figure on the water's surface.

The figure, back turned to him, was slowly walking into the rain curtain.

His vision grew darker.

His consciousness faded.

In his final moments, the once‑arrogant business magnate saw not his money, not his power, but the countless ordinary faces he had trampled underfoot.

So.

The feeling of being stepped on is like this.

The next morning.

An explosive news story swept across the entire Federation.

Tai Tao City Richest Wang Tianhong drowned in his home pool last night. Preliminary police investigation ruled out homicide, and a will left at the scene showed that his hundreds of billions in assets have been entirely donated to charitable organizations.

Meanwhile.

The Federal Weird Investigation Bureau's internal network released a red S-level Wanted Notice.

In the photo, the refined man wearing Gold Thread Glasses has a chilling blood‑red vortex in his left eye.

Jiang Hai City, Second Hospital.

Sunlight streams through the louvered windows, dappled across the desk.

The air is filled with the rich aroma of hand‑ground coffee.

Chu Che, dressed in a well‑tailored Doctor's Lab Coat, holds an exquisite bone‑china coffee cup and watches the news on his tablet with keen interest.

On the screen is that very wanted notice.

"Tsk."

He gently sips his coffee, his mouth corner twitching.

"It's a bit rough, but still a raw jade block."

Chu Che sets the cup down, slides his finger across the screen, and finally rests it on the red "S".

"A flower of evil that blooms in despair to protect—it's always especially alluring."

"I hope you live longer."

"After all, my new script is missing a superb supporting role like you."

ps:

Work isn't that busy anymore, so I'll start increasing the output daily.

Seeking support.