?Mobile reading Yang Xingde kept feeling more and more uneasy, and at the same time he remembered the phone call the old commander had made earlier. Eighty Electronic Book (txt02.com) At that time, Wei Qingtian had mediated between them. The old commander was in a huff, and though he couldn’t vent his frustration due to the other party’s distinguished status, he only managed to give a perfunctory response, not taking the matter seriously. Now it seemed that neither he nor the other party intended to settle for a compromise. Moreover, the other side’s determination and severity were clearly stronger than his own—now he began to feel anxious. He pulled out his phone, found the secretary’s number for Wei Qingtian, and dialed: “Ms. Sun, this is Yang Xingde. Has the old commander rested? I’d like to speak with him for a few minutes. Would it be convenient for you?” "A magnetic voice came through the speaker: "I'm sorry, Deputy Yang, Chairman Wei has gone to bed. He specifically instructed that he'll be very busy these days and won't take any personal calls." Yang Xingde was stunned. After all these years in office, he couldn't miss the subtle hint—Wei Qingtian had clearly decided to drop this matter. Should they call the police? Come on, how would they explain it to the officers? Would they claim someone had threatened their safety and needed protection? The police would have to believe them. Though Yang Xingde was a deputy minister, his wife ranked among the top hundred wealthiest individuals on the Huaxia National Wealth List, and without any military or police background, their family wasn't much different from ordinary people. Suddenly, he remembered that his wife's company employed over a hundred security personnel—just send them over. He immediately dialed the phone. His wife was unaware of what had happened, and as per his request, had already arranged for the security staff to be dispatched. He would personally lead the team. Upon returning home, she learned that her younger brother had died from a fall from the building, with the police concluding it was a suicide due to the absence of any signs of foul play. After a detailed conversation, she understood her husband's concerns and blamed him for having caused her brother's death. While she could certainly complain, after all, they were still family. Her husband had been constantly anxious since their son had suffered a serious injury, and she realized that if she kept pressing the issue over her brother's death, the family might truly be unable to endure. At this moment, what was most needed was unity in their public stance. Yang's house was filled with people inside and out, while Qin Feng, hiding in the shadows, was laughing so hard his stomach ached. This was called protection? Come on—surely even a world-class assassin like him, or even someone as ordinary as anyone could be, would have been able to blend in smoothly. People inevitably get noisy, and Yang Jiajun grows increasingly frustrated. He only feels pain-free when he's asleep, and even then, he needs to take large doses of diazepam to fall asleep. Once awakened, no amount of medication helps. He has settled all three nurses by paying them generously—each one willingly agrees to help him with the IV lines, which is the only thing that brings him genuine satisfaction. After midnight, the security staff begin to yawn continuously; the more reserved ones remain on duty, while the more laid-back ones have already found spots to sleep. Qin Feng moves silently through a window on the second floor, and soon the entire villa is enveloped by a mist-like phenomenon. In front of each security guard, a soft, comfortable bed appears, and the outdoor area transforms into hotel-style rooms. This is a vision conjured by Jin Ting Mu, to which Qin Feng has added a special blend of aromatic essential oils. As soon as the people are awake, they quickly lose their sense of conscious awareness and drift toward the beds. In no time at all, dozens of people lay scattered across the corridor, at the entrance, and on the lawn, sleeping in all sorts of odd positions, some even talking in their sleep. Qin, the young man, sat in Yang Family's study, effortlessly cracked Yang Xingde's computer password and retrieved a confidential ledger detailing his years of accepting bribes and abusing his authority. Yang's company had grown so large thanks entirely to Yang Xingde, the Deputy Minister of Industry and Information Technology, who consistently provided it with timely and valuable intelligence, enabling the company to stay ahead—especially in the information technology sector—earning substantial profits over the years. "Everyone always talks about collusion between officials and businesspeople, but now I've truly seen it firsthand," he said, copying the ledger and his gaze settling on a particular piece of furniture in the corner. The design looks awkward—something that wouldn’t match Yang Xingde’s taste. He walked over, kicked it with his foot, and sent the wooden structure flying. Sure enough, behind the walls, a safe was embedded. Qin, the young heir, chuckled and, with a few swift cuts of his dagger, sliced through the thick steel plate. Inside, he found a pile of gold bars, three boxes of diamonds, plus several stacks of U.S. dollars and a few fine jade pieces. Hiding it so well must mean it was ill-gotten wealth. He’d have to accept it with a smile, though it couldn’t quite compare to the vaults of Yuris Gold. Still, better than nothing. With a wave of his hand, all the contents of the safe were transferred into his ring. Now, the ring was filled with valuable items—more valuable ones than ever before. Yet, with so many gold bars and diamonds piling up, it would be wise to find a way to liquidate them at some point. Simply leaving them there wasn’t practical. Converting them into cash would be more reliable—something he could use to buy stylish clothes for his daughters, dressing them up beautifully. After completing these tasks, he calmly walked into Yang Jiajun's room. As soon as he entered, he smelled a faint fishy odor; the trash can by the bed was overflowing with paper towels—no need to ask, the patient must have had the nurses assist him again with a series of injections before going to sleep. Given his severe injuries that limited his mobility, such gentle care was all he could reasonably expect. He took out five or six sheets of the "Frenzied Spell" and pressed them firmly onto the man's forehead. When he awoke, he would be transformed into a completely new, extraordinary being. To achieve his "three holes for a rabbit" strategy—ensuring multiple safe retreats—Yang Xingde had chosen to stay alone in the attic, rather than sharing a room with his wife. In his dream, he ran desperately, yet was eventually overwhelmed and struck down by Qin Feng. He suddenly sat up in bed, drenched in cold sweat, realizing he was still dreaming. He exhaled deeply, relieved. This nightmare had driven him from sleep. He rose and walked to the window, propping open several blinds and looking down. He was startled again—dozens of security guards lay scattered across the courtyard. It was winter now; even if they were just resting, they’d surely have found a spot sheltered from the wind. As he was about to speak, a sudden gust of cold wind swept past him, making him shiver involuntarily. He remembered having securely closed all the doors and windows before going to sleep—so how could there be wind entering?