Hong Ye's body was transported to the low-temperature medical center of the Hongsheng Group — a facility equipped with state-of-the-art cryogenic preservation technology, capable of delaying biological decomposition. Liu Yuan had assigned a dedicated security detail to guard the premises. No one was allowed near it — not even Dr. Liu Qing, who needed to conduct further examinations, had to wait until Liu Changfeng returned.
Liu Changfeng arrived the next morning. He flew in on a private jet from Africa and went straight to the mourning hall on the top floor of the Group's headquarters. There was no actual body displayed inside — only a holographic projection. Hong Ye was seated in his usual Zhongshan suit, holding his signature wooden beads, looking just as he had in life.
Liu Changfeng stood before the projection, unmoving, for an entire night. He was thirty years old, two years older than Liu Yuan. Years of working under the African sun had tanned his skin dark, and he wore military fatigues. His face was gaunt, lined with exhaustion, and his eyes were bloodshot. Twenty years ago, his mother had died in an attack targeting Hongsheng. Since then, he had distanced himself from Hong Ye, rarely returning to Shanghai. If it weren't for Hong Ye's upcoming announcement of succession, he might still be in Africa.
The next morning, the Group's largest conference room had been converted into a temporary command center. Professor Qing Song sat at the head of the table, flanked by Liu Changfeng, Liu Yuan, Feng Chen, Dugu Ming, Dr. Liu Qing, Dr. Wu Jie, and several senior directors. The atmosphere was heavy with grief and tension.
"Changfeng," Professor Qing Song began, his voice hoarse, "Hongsheng can't be left without a leader. Today, in front of everyone, you will officially take over the Group and stabilize the situation."
One of the directors adjusted his glasses and chimed in, "That's right. Only you can hold Hongsheng together now. And avenging Hong Ye's death — that's on you too."
Liu Changfeng nodded. He picked up the official seal — the Group's master stamp, usually kept under Hong Ye's personal custody — and pressed it onto the succession documents. Setting the seal down, he pulled up a 3D scan of the crime scene, projecting it onto the wall. The image clearly showed every corner of the meditation chamber, the exact spot where Hong Ye had fallen, and the charred wound on his body.
"All evidence points to Yun Yi," Liu Changfeng said, his voice rough with sorrow. "Only he has the technology to bypass the meditation chamber's defenses, use high-energy particle beams to kill, and erase the logs. Moreover, he's committed similar acts internationally — his methods match perfectly."
The directors nodded in agreement. Dugu Ming added, "I've reviewed Yun Yi's profile. He's been active in Southeast Asia recently. Hongsheng just secured a major oilfield project there. It's likely he was hired by a rival."
"Mr. Liu," Feng Chen's voice suddenly cut through the room, calm but firm. He was sitting in a corner, a tablet in hand displaying a series of data — likely on Yun Yi. "May I ask what the specific evidence chain is?"
Dr. Liu Qing frowned, clearly displeased. "Isn't it obvious? The method of the crime, the technological level — everything aligns with Yun Yi's profile. Besides him, no one could execute such a precise particle beam strike."
"Profile?" Feng Chen stood up, walked to the projection, and swiped his tablet. The image shifted to display Yun Yi's known activities. "According to verifiable intelligence, over the past twenty years, Yun Yi has been involved in twenty-four incidents — all targeting individuals on the International Dark List. Drug lords, arms dealers, all notorious 'social cancers.' Before each operation, he would send an anonymous warning to his target — even if he didn't explicitly say he'd kill them, he'd advise them to 'be careful.' His style is clear: he wants the world to know he's taking out the bad guys."
He paused, pointing to the wound on the projection. "But this case is different. First, Hong Ye wasn't on the Dark List. He was a respected entrepreneur, known for his philanthropy and good social standing — not someone Yun Yi would target. Second, there was no warning whatsoever. This was a sudden, unannounced attack — completely against Yun Yi's pattern. Third, there's no signature mark left behind — Yun Yi always leaves behind a 'feather' symbol, either carved into a wall or drawn in blood. This time? Nothing."
Feng Chen turned to face Liu Changfeng and the directors, his gaze sharp. "So why are we so quick to assume it's him, just because the 'technical capability' matches? Isn't that jumping to conclusions? Or worse… is someone trying to steer our suspicion toward Yun Yi, to distract us from other possibilities?"
Dr. Liu Qing's face flushed red. She stood up, indignant. "Are you questioning our professional judgment? Do you have proof it wasn't Yun Yi?"
"I don't have proof," Feng Chen admitted plainly. "But I do have a question: If the killer isn't Yun Yi, who stands to gain from Hong Ye's death? Who has the capability to access high-energy particle beam technology? Or more directly —" His gaze swept across the room. "Is the killer even an outsider?"
"An inside job?" one director blurted out.
The words hit like a bomb. The room fell silent. Then, suspicious glances were exchanged. The atmosphere, once united in grief, turned eerie — every person in the room was a core member of Hongsheng or a close partner. If there was an insider, anyone could be a suspect.
Liu Changfeng's expression darkened. He stared at Feng Chen. "Are you saying… one of us killed my father?"
"I'm not saying that," Feng Chen replied, sitting back down. "I'm just raising a possibility. Right now, all leads are dead ends. We can't afford to focus on just one angle. Before Hong Ye died, he was set to announce the succession. You, Mr. Liu, weren't here on time. The meditation chamber logs were erased. The timed bomb, the 'key'… all these events are too coincidental. It's as if someone scripted the whole thing in advance."
No one spoke after that. The 3D projection continued to glow on the wall. Liu Yuan watched Feng Chen, impressed — the young man wasn't just skilled in combat; his mind was sharp. He had pinpointed the critical flaws in the case.
After the meeting, Feng Chen followed Liu Changfeng to his private lounge. The room was modest, decorated with a few photos of Hong Ye and Liu Changfeng together, and one of the African savannah — taken at Liu Changfeng's project base.
Feng Chen pulled out a micro USB drive and plugged it into the computer. The screen lit up with complex molecular structures and waveform graphs. "Yesterday, I had Xia Xiang analyze air and dust samples from the meditation chamber. She found trace amounts of a compound — an NMDA receptor enhancer."
Liu Changfeng frowned. He had some knowledge of biochemistry, but not much. "What does that do?"
"In layman's terms, it's an emotional catalyst," Feng Chen explained. "There's a part of the brain called the amygdala — it controls anger, impulsiveness. This enhancer lowers the activation threshold of the amygdala. Simply put, it makes you more prone to anger. Even minor things can set you off. And it has another trait — it reacts with certain neurodrugs. For example, the neural modulators Hong Ye took long-term for nerve pain."
He pulled up Hong Ye's medical records, displaying his medication list for the past six months. "See? Hong Ye took one of these pills every night. If someone introduced this enhancer into the ventilation system of the meditation chamber, and Hong Ye inhaled it along with his medication, the combination would destabilize his emotions — make him extremely irritable."
Liu Changfeng paled, his voice trembling. "You're saying… my father was manipulated like this? Then… who was the one provoked? The killer?"
Feng Chen shook his head. He pulled up another encrypted file — Hong Ye's neurological scans over the past three years. "There's more. Look at Hong Ye's delta waves — they're associated with deep sleep and subconscious activity. Over the past three years, these waves were consistently disrupted by a specific low-frequency infrasound. This kind of interference causes anxiety, impairs judgment, and makes one more susceptible to suggestion."
He pointed to subtle peaks on the graph. "I checked the Group's power lines and network logs. There were repeated instances of abnormal low-frequency sound transmissions originating from the server room in the headquarters. Someone used the servers to remotely transmit infrasound into Hong Ye's brain — for three years straight. I suspect the suggestions implanted were designed to make him insist on your return to take over the Group. Otherwise, he believed the company would be in danger. That's why he was so insistent on announcing the succession when he did."
Liu Changfeng staggered back, gripping the edge of the table. His face was as white as paper. "So… this has been going on since three years ago? My father's insistence, the anonymous letters I received warning me about dangers in Africa and urging me to return to Shanghai… all orchestrated?"
"It's very possible," Feng Chen nodded. He pulled out the string of dark red wooden beads — retrieved from Liu Yuan earlier. "The key lies in these beads. My instruments detected special magnetic materials and microstructures inside. These aren't ordinary ornaments. They're a bio-energy beacon. The killer may not have targeted Hong Ye for power — but for these beads. They could be the key to something we're calling the 'Source Point.'"
Just then, Liu Yuan's encrypted communicator buzzed. A message from Professor Qing Song: he was needed in the lab immediately.
Liu Yuan excused himself and hurried out.
Professor Qing Song's lab was located on the third underground level of the Group's headquarters. It was packed with cutting-edge equipment, including several superconducting quantum memory units — a new technology the Group was developing to store massive amounts of data.
Professor Qing Song sat at his computer, face grim, holding a report. He handed it to Liu Yuan. "Look at this. We conducted a full physiological scan on Changfeng yesterday. We found trace amounts of a 'Rage Factor' metabolite — a variant of the NMDA receptor enhancer, ten times more potent than the standard version. We also detected that, on the night of the incident, Changfeng's auditory cortex received a specific audio signal — transmitted remotely via his phone."
Liu Yuan took the report, his hands shaking. The words were legible, but the meaning chilled him to the bone. "You're saying… Changfeng was remotely activated? That he might have been the one who… killed Hong Ye?"
"We can't confirm he's the killer," Professor Qing Song said quietly, "but he was definitely exploited. That audio signal was a neural trigger — it could activate the Rage Factor in his body, causing him to lose control. During the time of the incident, Changfeng was on a plane back from Africa, in airplane mode. But someone transmitted that audio signal via satellite."
Liu Yuan stood frozen. Changfeng — Hong Ye's own son — had been used. Possibly even manipulated into becoming the weapon that killed Hong Ye. How vast was this conspiracy?
"This must remain between us. Especially from Changfeng himself," Professor Qing Song added sternly. "Our opponent's biochemical and neural technologies are far more advanced than we imagined. Feng Chen is sharp — he might help us unravel this mystery. But his background is unclear. We can't fully trust him. Keep an eye on him. Report everything he does."
Liu Yuan nodded, though his mind was in turmoil. Hong Ye's death. Changfeng's possible involvement. The enigmatic Feng Chen. And the inscrutable Professor Qing Song… He felt like he'd fallen into an invisible web. The strands were tightening — but he couldn't even see who had woven it.
As he left the lab, he looked up at the mourning hall atop the building. One thought burned in his mind: he had to uncover the truth. No matter who the killer was — even if it was Changfeng — he would find them. For Hong Ye.