The whole nation: You're put to survive on a desolate planet, you'll be running an alien b

The piercing alarm sounded like the sharpest bone scraper, viciously gouging at the butcher's eardrums.

But he could no longer hear.

His eyes, which were squeezed into slits by his fat, were now wide open like two beef balls about to burst, staring intently at the ever-increasing number on the screen in front of him.

That wasn't the organization's cash flow, but rather the balance in his private, secret account.

"drop--"

Another huge sum of money has arrived.

The butcher watched helplessly as an arms deal from the South American branch of "Purgatory" was transferred directly, brutally, and irrationally into his private treasury without any hesitation as it passed through his accounting system!

His electronic signature and the highest-level authorization code were clearly printed on the transaction log.

This is not embezzlement, this is outright robbery!

This is putting him on the fire, using the entire organization's wealth as fuel to roast him!

"BUG! It must be a system bug!"

The butcher's face was ashen, his enormous body trembling like a pool of butter about to melt. He lunged at the control panel, his fingers stiff with fear as he frantically pounded the keyboard.

"Cancel it! Damn it! Cancel it right now!"

A cold, red message popped up on the screen: [Data locked, insufficient permissions.]

"Fix! Emergency fix!"

[Unknown lock detected; repair program cannot start.]

The butcher's breathing became increasingly rapid; he felt like he was about to suffocate. The backdoor program he had personally written, used to secretly intercept 0.3% of the revenue, was now like a beast that had broken free of its shackles, devouring its master completely.

His proud fortress became his prison.

Just then.

"Sizzle—"

The expensive smart lighting system inside the vault suddenly went berserk, flashing wildly. The entire space was alternately bright as day and plunged into complete darkness.

"Who?!"

The butcher was startled and pulled out a custom-made, gold-plated Desert Eagle from under the sofa, pointing it haphazardly around.

In the empty vault, only his own heavy breathing could be heard.

"Buzz—Buzz—"

In the corner, the top-of-the-line laser printer, worth millions, started up automatically without warning.

Instead of printing accounts and reports, it spit out sheet after sheet of A4 paper with a "swish, swish, swish" sound. The snow-white paper fluttered in the air like funeral paper money.

The butcher caught the card with trembling hands.

He only glanced at it, and the color drained from his face instantly.

On the paper, a line of large characters was printed in bold, blood-red font:

Long live the bishop, but I love money more!

"Whoosh—" Another piece of paper floated onto his face.

[The Scorpion is an idiot, and so are the Elders!]

"Swish—swish—swish—"

More sheets of paper flew out of the printer, covered with all sorts of treasonous and arrogant slogans that insulted every single member of the "Purgatory" leadership.

"A ghost...there's a ghost!"

The butcher completely broke down. He felt as if an invisible hand was manipulating this space he knew best, pushing him toward his death.

He suddenly turned around and frantically pulled the trigger in the empty, dark corner!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Deafening gunfire echoed through the sealed vault, ricochets sparking as they struck the expensive server racks, triggering a higher-level physical attack alert.

"Get out here! Get the hell out here!"

The butcher roared like a madman, "Scorpion! He's one of yours, isn't he! You bastard! You think you can get me with such underhanded tactics?!"

He couldn't understand how his seemingly impregnable fortress had been breached.

He instinctively reached for the sandalwood cigar box beside him, intending to light one to calm himself. But his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't even open the lid.

He would never know that the "enemy" he was looking for was lying quietly in his cigar box, watching the whole one-man show he was starring in.

……

The living room of a villa in the sky.

Li Haotian finished the last bag of potato chips and licked the tomato powder off his fingers with a lingering sense of satisfaction.

"Alright, the evidence has been collected almost completely."

He clapped his hands, stood up from the sofa, and looked like a director who had just finished editing a film, very satisfied with his work.

Su Wan and Liu Hu were already numb.

They looked at Li Haotian as if he were a god in human skin.

Li Haotian ignored them and walked straight to Su Wan, took the encrypted phone, and re-entered the dark chat room where he was communicating with "Scorpion".

A funny smiling face avatar reappeared opposite the dark red scorpion.

[Mr. Li, a kind-hearted citizen]: The appetizers are ready. I've filmed a few short videos. The footage is quite impressive. Would you like to take a look?

The scorpion emblem opposite remained silent for a moment.

A cold female voice rang out: "No need, just bring the main course."

Li Haotian smiled.

[Mr. Li, a concerned citizen]: As you wish. It was a pleasure working together.

He closed the chat room.

Then, through the physical connection of the [Worker Bee], he packaged all the "evidence" he had just recorded—the wildly increasing private account transaction records, the butcher's hysterical roars, the surveillance video of the shooting server, and the high-definition scans of the printed "evidence" slogans—into an encrypted file.

After doing all this, he found the name with the highest authority, glowing with golden light, in the internal communication system of the "Purgatory" organization.

【bishop】.

He didn't even use anonymity.

He sent the encrypted file directly using the "Butcher's" highest-privilege account.

He thought for a moment and typed a line for the email subject.

[A resignation letter from the "Butcher"]

send.

Everything is settled.

Li Haotian tossed his phone back to Su Wan, stretched, and slowly walked towards the kitchen.

"Liu Hu".

"Sir?" Liu Hu jolted awake from his petrified state.

Li Haotian opened the refrigerator door and rummaged through it.

"Is there any Häagen-Dazs left in the fridge?"

He found his target and took out a large tub of brand-new chocolate-flavored ice cream.

"I just finished those tomato-flavored potato chips. They tasted good, but they were a bit too spicy."

He held the ice cream and said without turning his head.

"Right now, I want something cold to cool down."