After finishing a day's work around seven at night, the Assistant Director called the Director to report on the situation here.

Investigating Lynch is not an easy task, but once started, it won't stop.

After the call, he sat in the office for a while before leaving.

He drove not directly home, but to a fast-food restaurant.

His wife and children should have finished dinner by now, and undoubtedly they wouldn't have left anything good for him.

Everyone has their own worries; there's no one in this world who can truly live carefree. As long as you're human, there will always be things you can't achieve.

The Assistant Director also has his worries; the years of madly climbing up have indeed brought him to a high position.

According to the Federal Tax Bureau's system, the next step might be transferring to a relatively remote state as the Director of the State Tax Bureau, or moving to a regional Tax Center to serve as a department head.

Either of these transfers is a huge advancement for him, with his power expanding to another level and both social and political status significantly improving.

Achieving this level at around forty is indeed difficult; it requires not just some background and friendships but also true ability.

Yet even so, sometimes he envies, even feels jealous of those women, especially those beautiful ones.

As long as they undress without awkwardness in front of the superiors, lie down somewhere, and put their legs on the other's shoulders, they can get a decent job and power.

Take Huake Tax Center, also the Tax Center of the Central Federation area; a department head there is a woman in her thirties, everyone knows how she climbed to that position.

And then look at himself, with various heavy workloads, always having to offend others for the Director, and carelessness can ruin his career and even make a mess of his family, he feels quite distressed.

His relationship with his wife is not good, since many years spent rushing around for work, he and his wife are more like two independent tenants in a house, only superficially maintaining the name of "family."

They had long since started sleeping separately, sometimes he wouldn't see his wife's face for a whole week, even though they lived together——when he gets up in the morning she has already gone out to exercise, and by the time he comes home at night, she's retreated early to her own room.

Moreover, he knows his wife has a tenuous relationship with her fitness coach, but what can he say?

With gains come losses, losing the sweetness of family in exchange for growing power, this was his own choice.

Parking outside the fast-food restaurant, he ordered a usual fast food meal, added a serving of grilled corn, and returned to the car with the food.

Looking at the aromatic delicious food on the plate, he rubbed his hands, a slight smile appeared on his face, thinking "Where should I start eating from?"

It was at this moment that he instinctively glanced at the rearview mirror, and immediately every hair on his body stood up, as if greatly shocked, his whole body twitched, reaching for the glove compartment without thinking.

"If I were you, I wouldn't do that..."

The voice from the back seat sounded young and calm.

The Assistant Director's action halted, he slowly withdrew his hand, rapidly calming his nervousness, sitting up straight again, looking at the messed-up food plate unsure if the person behind could see it, he still tugged at his shirt and shook it, "I need to clean my clothes..."

This is a perfect era without pagers, cell phones, or micro signal transmitters; nobody has to worry that a small movement in someone's hand will cause big trouble.

"You better keep your hands on the steering wheel, I'm afraid I might misunderstand your actions, you know, when people are nervous, it's easy to do something foolish."

Though the words carried no overt threat, both the speaker and the listener knew what was being implied.

The Assistant Director could only slowly place his hands on the steering wheel, ensuring the guy behind could see.

At this point, it was already quite late, close to eight, the car's lights weren't turned on, and the fast-food parking lot couldn't possibly be lit with floodlights; in the dim shadows, the Assistant Director could only see a vague outline through the rearview mirror.

His emotions were much calmer than earlier, he began to think of solutions to his current predicament, "If you need money, my wallet's in the pocket on my right side, it has over a hundred dollars in cash, and my checkbook is in my left breast pocket, you can write a check for two thousand dollars, that's the limit."

He glanced at the ring on his finger, paused for about four or five seconds, "My ring is a wedding ring, it's not worth much, I hope you'll leave it with me."

"You're mistaken, I don't want money, I just want to have a chat."

"Chat about what?"

"Chat about who persuaded you all."

The Assistant Director shook his head, "I don't quite understand what you mean, sir," he said, pausing for a moment, "How should I address you?"

He wanted to probe who was the guy hiding in the shadows; even if the person made up a name, it would be meaningful in this environment.

Many people often make a habitual choice instinctively or unconsciously when they are required to quickly select an answer.

It's like a guy whose ex-girlfriend was a blonde; when he chooses a girlfriend again, he's more likely to avoid blondes (psychological avoidance of injury, can be self-healing), but there's also a certain probability that he'll continue to choose a blonde as his girlfriend (a degree of psychological issue, not necessarily self-healing).

As for how to analyze specifically, it requires combining multiple issues. This was just his first question; he would follow up with others to form a judgment to pinpoint this person.

What he didn't expect was that the guy behind him didn't seem to intend to hide his identity.

"You can call me Lynch, or call me Kid, Mister Billionaire, and the like, but personally, I don't like it that much. I prefer being called Mr. Lynch," Lynch decisively chose to speak the truth, which temporarily stalled the Assistant Director's thoughts.

He couldn't believe Lynch had just revealed his identity like that. Didn't he know that doing so could bring him a lot of trouble?

"You seem quite surprised, sir," Lynch said, laughing. His laughter wasn't tense at all, just as bright as during a normal conversation.

The Assistant Director calmed down completely, "You have already broken the law, Mr. Lynch."

"Broken the law?" Lynch laughed heartily after hearing that, "Have you made the concept of 'breaking the law' too frivolous?"

"We're just sitting and chatting; it's not considered breaking the law. I passed by here, saw your car door open, and to avoid you having a loss, I sat in the back seat to watch your car for a while."

"I believe even in the Federal Supreme Court, no one would think I'm a thief or planning something; you're exaggerating."

The Assistant Director fell silent and didn't speak, and in fact, Lynch was very right; even if there was a police officer passing by now, he couldn't accuse Lynch of anything.

Firstly, Lynch and his work are not connected in any way; there's no conflict of interest.

The Tax Bureau was indeed commissioned by some to bring Lynch down, but the problem was that everything was just starting and encountered setbacks. Without old Fox's betrayal, it was hard to bring Lynch into the fold.

If he was not dragged in, his sitting in the car was just an isolated incident, and any judge would not support punishing a socially influential celebrity over an incident that can't even be classified as a case, in the absence of any evidence and interest conflict, for an isolated incident without harm or loss.

He could only remain silent, waiting for Lynch to say more.

"There's a saying, 'A clash of gods can destroy a world'; this saying means that the battles between gods, just the shockwaves from their collisions, can destroy everything."

"I don't want you to be my enemy, nor do I want anyone with no direct conflict of interest with me to be my enemy; it's truly unfair to you all."

"You don't need to take responsibility that you cannot bear for disagreements and disputes between me and others; this isn't bravery, Director Sir!"

"In the history of the Federation, more than one President has died accidentally, and many more politicians and celebrities have died inexplicably; accidents happen every day, they happen around me, and they could happen around you."

"When the President dies, people will mourn him spontaneously; when people like you and me die, who will mourn us?"

"Don't do things that you'll regret; this is my experience and my advice."

"I just want to know who the person is that gave you the message; this is between him and me!"

As Lynch said this, he placed a solid-colored case on the front passenger seat. The Assistant Director saw this action and recognized the metal box. After all, there are only a handful of people in the entire Federation who can own a pure gold case.

He had understood Lynch's meaning, and after a moment of silence, he said a name.

Lynch was actually very correct; such things inherently offend people, and even if they arrested Lynch, he could be out in three to five years at most.

Don't underestimate the power of wealthy people; even if the court sentences them heavily, they can always find ways to leave prison and serve their sentences outside.

When he comes out, will he seek revenge?

No one would dare to wager; he is so rich, and there will be countless people in this world who would do crazy things for his money.

Some things people can afford to lose.

Some they cannot afford to lose.

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