Handong: Sha Li wants political achievements? I'll shut down the entire province.

"Boom—"

Three dark gray armed helicopters bearing the Lingxiao dark gold logo hovered arrogantly on the roof of Manchester's most upscale Four Seasons Hotel.

The helicopter's rotor blades violently shredded the humid monsoon winds of Southeast Asia.

The strong smell of rust and blood on the deck of the fishing boat in international waters seemed to have been carried by the strong wind.

On the rooftop helipad, dozens of local police officers were blown about by the airflow.

The police hats were lifted into the air, and the pungent smell of aviation kerosene made them cough repeatedly.

Lin Yubing was wearing a tight-fitting black suit without any wrinkles and high heels.

He jumped directly from the cabin door, which was more than a meter off the ground.

"clatter."

The sharp heels slammed heavily onto the scorching concrete floor, the sound as cold and hard as a piece of cast iron.

Immediately afterwards, three hundred fully armed Lingxiao Legal Security personnel surged out like a black tide.

They were all dressed in black suits and sunglasses, each carrying a pure silver bomb-proof briefcase in their right hand.

The uniform clatter of leather shoes made the waterproof layer on the roof tremble, and the oppressive feeling was overwhelming.

The Manchester police chief, steeling himself, approached, his face covered in sweat from the heat and panic.

His short-sleeved police uniform was already soaked with sweat.

It was sticky and adhered to my back, emitting a sour smell of overnight fermentation.

"Chief Lin... this is Manchester City territory!"

The sheriff's legs were shaking uncontrollably, and his kneecaps were so weak they ached.

"The person downstairs is a distinguished guest from Europe. Your conglomerate can't just disregard the rules and barge in like that!"

Lin Yubing stopped in her tracks, a blinding white light reflecting off the lenses of her frameless glasses.

She suddenly flipped her slender wrist.

A thick document, hundreds of pages long, was slammed directly and roughly onto the sheriff's sweaty chest.

The sharp edge of the paper grazed the sheriff's chin, leaving a thin red mark.

"Look carefully, this is a 'Claim for Transnational Technology Theft'."

Lin Yubing parted her red lips slightly, her voice devoid of any human warmth.

"The European in the presidential suite downstairs ordered spies to steal Lingxiao's core secrets, and the case involves a claim for 500 billion points."

The sheriff's mind went blank for a second, and his face turned deathly pale.

Five hundred billion points? They couldn't afford to pay that even if they emptied their entire national treasury!

A sharp, intense pain erupted in my stomach, and bile surged upwards down my esophagus.

He could only clutch his stomach tightly and swallow a mouthful of bloody saliva.

"According to international commercial treaties, we now have the right to freeze his assets and make legal claims against him at his hideouts around the world."

Lin Yubing raised her hand, which was painted with red nail polish, and pointed to the entire building at her feet.

"Immediately weld the main valve of the water tower on the roof shut and cut off all external cables to the hotel."

The sheriff stared in horror, his Adam's apple bobbing wildly.

"No water or electricity? There are other guests inside..."

I'll only say it once.

Lin Yubing interrupted him directly, the cruelty in her tone making the surrounding temperature drop several degrees.

"The breach of contract clauses are effective immediately, and the presidential suite is physically locked down."

"Anyone who dares to put in a single drop of water, or provide a single watt of electricity."

"Tomorrow I will have Yunxiao AI lock down all of your country's foreign exchange reserves and shipping ports."

The sheriff swallowed the bitter, sour liquid in his throat and dared not utter another fart.

They could only watch helplessly as three hundred thugs in suits rushed into the building with briefcases in hand.

They roughly smashed the distribution box with a large iron sledgehammer and cut all the main cables.

Legitimate claims are the most terrifying form of cyber torture.

Three days.

Three whole days.

The luxury hotel's water and electricity were completely cut off, making it resemble a dead city.

In the presidential suite on the top floor, all the windows were sealed with bulletproof glass, so not even a wisp of wind could get in.

Outside, the tropical sun was blazing at nearly forty degrees Celsius.

The room was like a stuffy, airtight oven, so stuffy it felt like your lungs were going to burst.

The air was thick with the stench of urine and the sour, rotten smell of sweat.

The stench is so strong that anyone who takes a deep breath will feel nauseous.

Paul, the contact for the old money families in Europe, was like a dehydrated, rotten dog at that moment.

He lay sprawled on the cold marble floor of the bathroom, his limbs outstretched.

The haute couture suit he was wearing, worth over ten thousand euros, had long since been thrown away somewhere.

She was only wearing an expensive pair of silk underwear, and her pale skin was covered in large patches of red rashes from the stuffiness.

thirsty.

It felt like a handful of scalding hot shards of glass had been stuffed into my throat.

Just swallowing a little saliva can cause a bloody mess.

Paul's groin muscles cramped violently, twisting into a tight knot.

The pain caused his teeth to chatter wildly, making a crisp "clucking" sound, and even his gums were trembling.

He gripped the edge of the toilet tightly with both hands, his fingernails curling up from the force.

Dark red blood streaks seeped out, mixed with yellow grime around the toilet bowl.

He licked the last drop of stagnant water out of the toilet tank last night.

"vomit--"

His shrunken stomach walls contracted and rubbed violently, and he opened his cracked and bleeding lips to gag.

He couldn't even vomit a drop of bile; he could only cough up a few mouthfuls of red and white blood foam with a strong, salty, and fishy smell.

It was quiet outside the door.

No police came to rescue him, no phone rang, and he couldn't even hear the slightest footsteps in the corridor.

Only this absolute stillness and the 40-degree heat were slowly sawing through his nerve fibers.

This is the Lingxiao Consortium's strategy of overwhelming force.

No guns, no cannons.

They'll use absolute resource monopoly to starve you to death amidst this pile of expensive genuine leather furniture.

"A madman... Yan Qingfeng is a madman..."

Paul's eyes were bloodshot and his pupils were beginning to dilate.

Despair and physical collapse completely destroyed his psychological defenses as an aristocrat.

This kind of cyber torture, where flesh is cut with a dull knife, is ten thousand times more terrifying than simply being shot.

His hands trembled as he pulled the clothes from the pile on the floor.

He picked up the solid gold Montblanc fountain pen worth 100,000 euros.

Remove the cap, and the sharp, pure gold nib gleams with a cold, hard reflection.

He gripped the pen tightly with both hands, aiming it at the still faintly pulsating carotid artery on his neck.

"Ugh!"

A hissing, whistling sound escaped his throat.

The sharp pen tip brutally pierced the skin and flesh of the neck, and plunged into the blood vessel.

"Pfft!"

Hot blood gushed out like a fountain.

It splashed directly onto the expensive marble wall, running down the tiles.

The strong smell of rust and blood instantly filled the entire bathroom, masking the stench of urine.

Paul convulsed violently a few times.

His legs stomped on the floor tiles, making them creak.

Then a harsh, bellows-like sound came from his throat, and his dead fish-like eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

He stopped breathing completely.

"Bang!"

Five minutes later, the heavy mahogany door of the presidential suite was violently kicked open by legal and security personnel.

The dull thud shook the dust off the door frame.

Lin Yubing walked in, wearing high heels.

The ground was covered with sticky, still-dry bloodstains, a dark red that was almost black.

The high heels stomped on the blood, making a chilling, sticky "slap, slap" sound.

She stopped in front of Paul's still-bleeding body and looked down at him.

He pushed up his frameless glasses on the bridge of his nose; the lenses were spotless.

Lin Yubing casually took out an encrypted communicator and pressed the dial button.

On the other end of the phone, the crisp sound of ice cubes hitting wine glasses could be heard from Yan Qingfeng's office.

"Master Yan, the legal proceedings are complete. The buyer of the blueprints couldn't stand the water outage and signed a death certificate himself."

Lin Yubing's voice echoed in the deathly silent crime scene, revealing a lifeless cold-bloodedness.

She looked at the tiny bit of flesh stuck to the tip of her shoe with disgust, then rubbed it on the clean carpet next to her.

"But Mr. Yan, this kind of work, which involves carrying around claim forms and chasing mice all over the world, is too inefficient."

Lin Yubing's red lips curled into a cold smile as she turned around, stepping over the blood-soaked ground.

"If we want to burn down the power grid in Paris and physically harvest those old capitalists, we need to cast a wider net."

"We need to bury our eyes directly under the beds of those old bones in Europe. Is Ye Qingmei ready?"