Hong Kong film: The cop backs down, the ladies beg me to check his license.

The horse racing club arrived quickly. The prize redemption process was straightforward: register identity and verify ticket stubs. Huang Bingyao stood to the side, his eyes widening in disbelief! He could see clearly that Ye Tian had won one hundred first prizes, five hundred second prizes, and countless third prizes! He had truly emptied the prize pool! The first prize, which could have been twenty million, had been reduced to five million by him alone! The third prizes were a paltry nineteen thousand.

This kid's luck is simply incredible!

The thought of having to pay Ye Tian one million for intelligence later made Huang Bingyao feel incredibly jealous.

Back in the car, Huang Bingyao said sourly, "This isn't buying lottery tickets, it's robbing people. Over 90 million in one go..."

Ye Tian corrected him: "This is better than robbing a bank. Robbing a bank is illegal and risky. This is legal income, aboveboard. It's a pity I can't win every day."

Huang Bingyao's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets: "You want to empty the prize pool every day? You'll drive the Hong Kong Jockey Club out of business!"

Ye Tian thought to himself: As long as the "Prophet" system is powerful enough, what does it matter if I empty my pockets every day? Unfortunately, the system refreshes information entirely by luck. Today, it only refreshed three bronze-level crime messages that were not very useful and were worthless.

He held out his hand, bluntly asking, "Where's the money for the information? Did you bring it?"

Huang Bingyao said with a bitter face, "Mr. Ye, you just made over 90 million, you can't be short of one million, can you? Could you give me the information first, and I'll definitely make up the difference later?"

Ye Tian frowned: "Ninety million is just ninety million each, of course I'm lacking. Do you still want to make the deal? If not, send me back; I need to go back to my studies."

Huang Bingyao quickly pulled a check from his briefcase and handed it over: "Here you go! One million, please count it."

Ye Tian took it, carefully examined the seal and signature, and nodded in satisfaction after confirming that everything was correct.

Then, he took out his checkbook, quickly wrote a check, and handed it to Huang Bingyao.

Huang Bingyao's eyes widened again! A triad member carrying a checkbook? This completely overturned his understanding. Then, considering Ye Tianqi's identity as the boss of the Qitian Group, it seemed reasonable. But when he took the check and looked at it, he was stunned: "Mr. Ye, why are you writing two million? I only gave one million for the information."

Ye Tian smiled faintly: "I just made a small fortune, so I'm in a good mood. This two million is my donation to the police force this month, a small contribution to society."

Huang Bingyao stared at Ye Tian for a long time.

His eyes had seen far too many people. An old fox looking at a young fox, a江湖客 (jianghu ke, a江湖客 ...

He possesses shrewdness, the kind of keen insight honed in the business world; yet, his eyes and brows also carry a touch of wildness honed from his experiences in the underworld. These two qualities, when combined, don't contradict each other; rather, they intertwine into an indescribable and compelling force.

The office was quiet for a moment, with only the faint sounds of the street outside the window. Huang Bingyao temporarily suppressed the urge to dig up every detail of Ye's background, cleared his throat, and asked the question that had been nagging at him for so long: "Mr. Ye, your current wealth is enough to last several lifetimes. Your file is spotless, not a single stain. Why bother staying in the gang and getting involved in those...unsafe things?"

Ye Tian leaned back into the sofa, his fingers unconsciously tracing the grain of the solid wood on the armrest. The wood was polished smooth and warm to the touch. His tone was flat, as if he were talking about someone else: "Maybe it's because I'm used to being carefree. Places with too many rules feel stifling."

He paused, his gaze falling on the spines of the rows of books on the opposite bookshelf, yet seemingly not really looking at them. "Or perhaps, my body has simply gotten used to it. I've been immersed in this water since I was a child; my breath, my walk, even the way I look at people are all permeated with that smell. Suddenly pulling away feels unnatural."

"Moreover," he withdrew his gaze, looking at Wong Bing-yiu, a faint, cold smile curving his lips, "this puddle is easy to get into. Want to leave clean and spotless? Wong sir, you know better than I do."

That wasn't untrue. His life had been mostly smooth sailing since he transmigrated into this world. Occasionally, a minor storm would arise, but he managed to handle it thanks to the information from the "prophets" in his mind, coupled with his not-too-stupid intellect and fairly agile hands and feet. Only this "past" followed him like a shadow. The boy who had been his predecessor had struggled through muddy alleys and the clash of swords; this body's memories, reactions, and even certain instincts bore the mark of the gang. Not to mention, the boss, Handsome Kun, treated him exceptionally well. In Hung Hing, he was practically a free spirit; the rules didn't apply to him, and Handsome Kun would shield him from trouble. Being so comfortable, the thought of leaving the gang faded away.

Huang Bingyao was clearly dissatisfied with the answer. His brows furrowed, and a pained expression appeared on his face: "Mr. Ye, you are the boss of Qitian Group. But as far as we know, you only go to the company once every few months. For a man to establish himself in the world, his career is fundamental. Look at those top figures in Hong Kong, which one of them didn't work more than ten hours a day to accumulate their current wealth? With such a foundation, if you were willing to put more effort into legitimate businesses, your achievements would be incomparable to what you have now. Why bother..."

Ye Tian chuckled softly before he could finish speaking. The laugh was short, carrying a hint of weariness from having heard too many lectures, and a touch of insightful indifference. "Inspector Huang," he interrupted, "times have changed."

Huang Bingyao was taken aback: "The times? What do you mean by that?"

Ye Tian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice steady yet carrying an undeniable certainty: "Back when the four major families rose to prominence, or in the years when several new elites emerged, how many people were there in Hong Kong? How many of them were literate and knew how to manage a business? There was a real shortage of people. If the boss didn't personally oversee things, nothing would get moving. There was no other way."

"And now?" He gestured in the air with his finger. "Several universities send out students every year, and the streets are full of college students wearing glasses and holding resumes. Especially professional managers, they're everywhere, as numerous as fish in the sea. The environment has changed, and the rules of the game have to change too."

"I know my limitations." He leaned back on the sofa, his tone more subdued. "How the company actually operates, which departments should be added or removed, which reports have problems with the details—these are the kinds of trivial matters I'm not best at. My strength is knowing which way the wind is blowing and which direction the ship should sail. It's about deciding what to do, not worrying about how to do it."

"Since someone can do these 'how-to' things better than me, why should I roll up my sleeves and get involved myself? I can control personnel appointments, tighten my grip on the purse strings, maintain a bit of mystery, and occasionally show myself so people can't gauge my true intentions. The rest of the time," he shrugged, "why waste it on those trivial details?"

Huang Bingyao's eyes widened slightly, a clear shock crossing his face. This line of reasoning was unconventional, completely contradicting his decades-long, unwavering belief in hands-on experience. Yet, upon closer reflection, every sentence struck a chord with reality, leaving no room for immediate rebuttal. Was this the thinking of the new generation? He suddenly felt that perhaps he really was getting old.

The car stopped downstairs at Ye Tian's residence. As Huang Bingyao followed him into the loft, he was about to comment on the high ceilings and industrial-style decor when Ye Tian walked to the center of the living room, his back to him. His voice was low, yet like a pebble dropped into still water.

"Ni Kun didn't die of natural causes. He was murdered."

He turned around, his face expressionless, except for a cold, almost cruel glint deep in his eyes. "It's kind of ironic. I wonder if Ni Kun would be so angry he'd die again if he knew who did it down there. If he really is, I'll have to open a bottle of wine to celebrate."

Huang Bingyao's attention vanished instantly as he surveyed the room, his focus suddenly pulled away as if by a hook: "Is Ni Kun's death suspicious? Explain yourself!"

Ye Tian didn't reply immediately. He walked to the coffee table, bent down, and took a wooden box from a drawer. Inside lay several dark brown cigars. He took one out and casually tossed it to Huang Bingyao. "Kun's good stuff, from Cuba. I snagged a few."

Huang Bingyao took it, smelled a rich tobacco aroma, and said in surprise, "You dare to take something from the big boss? Aren't you afraid he'll get angry?"

Ye Tian picked up one himself, carefully cut it open with a clipper, and said casually, "It's only meaningful to have his if it's his. I don't care about other people's." He lit it, took a drag, let the smoke swirl in his mouth, and slowly exhaled without inhaling it.