# Chapter Thirteen:
The silence in the cheap motel room was thick, saturated with the smell of old dust and faint despair. It wasn't a comforting silence, but one charged with anticipation, like the calm before a storm. Lin Feng sat on the edge of the worn-out bed, his cold fingers turning the small black memory chip over and over. The dried bloodstain on its side seemed like an eye staring at him from another world, a dark and brutal world whose depths he had only just begun to explore.
He was no longer just Lin Feng, the ousted heir trying to reclaim his position. He had transformed, forged by harsh circumstances and constant threat, into something else. Something colder, more calculating. He had survived an assassination attempt, escaped a specialist team, and now found himself holding physical evidence, a blood-stained enigma that could be his key to survival... or the key to his grave.
He sighed quietly, pushing away the threads of exhaustion creeping into his mind. No time for weakness. He pulled an encrypted laptop and a specialized chip reader from his bag. Connecting them, he carefully inserted the memory chip into the reader. A window popped up on the screen, requesting a password and confirming multiple layers of military-grade encryption.
A cold, cynical smile touched his lips for a moment. "Military-grade? Do they think this will stop me?" he muttered to himself. He had spent years in his past life learning and breathing the dark world of technology, not just for survival, but for dominance. He began to work, his fingers flying across the keyboard with the precision and grace of a pianist performing a complex piece. It wasn't random guessing; it was a systematic attack, leveraging his deep knowledge of encryption protocols and their potential weaknesses.
Minutes passed, then an hour. Cold sweat began to form on his forehead, not from the difficulty of the encryption itself, but from the constant tension, the hyper-awareness of any sound from outside. Every creak in the hallway, every rumble of a car engine on the street, made him pause for a fraction of a second, his ears straining for the faintest whisper, his hand brushing against the pistol hidden under his pillow.
"Done," he finally whispered, as a message flashed on the screen confirming the breach of the first encryption layer. A structure of encrypted files and folders appeared before him. He began opening them one by one, rapidly analyzing their contents.
Much of it was complex financial data: suspicious transfers through offshore accounts, shell corporations, code names. Nothing immediately comprehensible, but it painted a picture of a vast, clandestine financial network. Then he found a folder containing encrypted messages. He managed to decrypt some; they spoke of "shipments," "targets," "clean-ups." The language of organized crime.
Then he found a small video file, partially corrupted. He clicked on it, and it began to play. The image was glitchy and intermittent, the audio barely audible. But what he saw made his blood run cold for a moment. It wasn't a clear scene, just fleeting glimpses: frightened faces, inhumane conditions, hints of brutal treatment bordering on torture. There was no explicit gore, but the psychological horror emanating from those few frames was overwhelming. A wave of cold revulsion washed over him. These people... his opponents... weren't just corrupt businessmen; they were monsters wearing human masks.
He quickly closed the file, taking a deep breath to control his reaction. This wasn't the time for anger or disgust, but for cold analysis. This information was dangerous, but it was also a powerful weapon if he knew how to wield it.
Just then, he heard a distinct sound this time. Heavy, steady footsteps approaching in the corridor outside his room. The steps stopped right in front of his door. Lin Feng froze, his heart pounding, his hand gripping the pistol tightly. Had they found him already? This quickly?
Moments of suffocating silence passed, stretching into what felt like an eternity. Then, a light knock on the door. "Room service!" a gruff, indifferent voice called out.
Lin Feng didn't answer. He remained perfectly still, listening. After a few moments, the footsteps moved away, continuing down the corridor. Lin Feng let out a cautious breath of relief. A false alarm, most likely. But it was a stark reminder that he wasn't safe here. He needed to finish his work quickly and move on.
He returned to the laptop, his focus now even sharper. He began working on the second layer of encryption, using some keys extracted from the first layer. This layer was tougher, but his prior knowledge helped.
After another half hour of intense work, he broke through. And here, the picture became darker, clearer. He found detailed records of kidnappings, extortion, even disguised assassinations. Prominent names appeared in the logs, some indirectly linked to the Zhu family, others to different powerful factions in the city. He found maps of remote locations, notes about cryptic "experiments," and more images this time. Images showing the results of those "experiments," horrific scenes of physical and psychological torture, evidence of absolute moral depravity. It was no longer just hints; it was damning proof of real atrocities.
Lin Feng didn't feel the same shock this time. He had been expecting the worst. Instead, an icy coldness seeped into his soul, a steely resolve to use this knowledge to crush these monsters. He began analyzing the data dispassionately, connecting names to locations, dates to operations, looking for patterns, for weaknesses.
Then he found a small text file, hidden within another file. It was a brief report about an "incident" a few days prior. The report mentioned "internal betrayal," a "violent confrontation," and the "liquidation of an unreliable element." It stated that the liquidated element had been carrying "sensitive data" on a memory chip. The details matched the timing and location of the bloodstain he'd found in the basement of the building he escaped from.
"So..." Lin Feng murmured, "this blood belonged to someone who tried to leak this information, or maybe steal it. And the chip... did they drop it during the confrontation, or did the traitor try to hide it before dying?" The enigma deepened, yet also clarified. This chip wasn't just evidence; it was a bloody legacy from someone who tried to do the right thing, or perhaps just tried to save themselves.
Lin Feng finished securely backing up the decrypted information onto another encrypted storage device. He thoroughly wiped the original chip, then crushed it into small pieces, disposing of them in separate locations within the room and later outside. He no longer needed it, and the risk it represented now outweighed its value.
He opened a new secure communication channel and contacted Zhao Fu.
"Sir?" Zhao Fu's voice came quickly, carrying an edge of concern Lin Feng wasn't used to hearing.
"Fu, listen carefully. I need you to monitor someone called 'Scorpion.' Find any information on him, movements, connections. Be extremely careful. Second, find a completely new safe house, outside this district, preferably with multiple, unexpected escape routes. Third, check out a front company called 'North Star Trading.' I want everything you can find on them." Lin Feng gave the instructions coldly and precisely, using code names and encrypted locations derived from the chip.
"Understood, sir. I'll start immediately," Zhao Fu replied without hesitation.
Lin Feng closed the connection. He stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness in his muscles from the long hours of sitting and tension. He looked around the grim room. He had uncovered a significant piece of the dark truth, a truth far bleaker and more horrifying than he could have imagined. The bloodstain on the chip wasn't just evidence; it was a symbol of the world he was now part of, a world where betrayal and murder were the currency.
He didn't feel fear in the same way anymore. Fear had transformed into cold caution, into icy determination. This information... these secrets... were his weapons now. He wouldn't just use them to defend himself, but to attack. He would use them to dismantle this network of evil, piece by piece, not for justice, but for survival, and for revenge. A faint, barely perceptible smile touched his face as he contemplated his next moves. The game had become far more dangerous, but now, he held some trump cards. And he would play them with skill and ruthlessness.