Officer Hu, his head spinning from the philosophy lecture, cut to the chase: "Did you kill those 218 people?"

Ethan Shaw replied, "Heh, if you’re going to accuse me, you’d better have evidence. Can you imagine any weapon capable of doing that? If you're making such a serious accusation just because I met Mr. Zhou once, you all may not be able to bear the consequences, right?"

Officer Hu hesitated, then said, "…Well, in that case, you’re free to go. We won’t hold the assault charge against you since, technically, you did turn yourself in."

Ethan smiled knowingly, "Smart move, Officer Hu. I won’t hold anything against you either. Let’s just part ways in peace."

Not only did Officer Hu let him go, but he even drove him home personally. The two chatted on the way like old friends, though both clearly had hidden agendas—Hu probing for information and Ethan carefully revealing nothing, never underestimating his adversary.

Along the way, Hu disclosed that Old Man Zhou had recently passed away, and he’d be attending the funeral tomorrow. Ethan showed no reaction, his calm demeanor betraying nothing.

"Such a shame," Hu remarked, sounding almost casual. "He was so close to entering cryogenic preservation. Just before his final checkup, they found some irregularities in his cells. They had to observe him for a few hours, and in that time… he was gone."

Ethan spoke philosophically, "It was fate."

…

"To the honorable Mr. Zhou Xueyan:

With deep sadness, we extend our sincerest condolences and respect. You were a titan of the beverage industry, witnessing and shaping the rise and triumph of this sector in Wu. Building your empire from the ground up, you created a $20 billion company with extraordinary vision and determination, and your achievements are forever etched into the history of Chinese business.

You were also deeply committed to philanthropy, changing countless lives and supporting the young and the needy with boundless generosity. Your kindness will be remembered for generations.

Your passing is an immense loss to the industry, but your legacy will continue to inspire us to move forward. We will carry on your charitable mission and aid those in need.

Rest in peace, Mr. Zhou."

Mao Yuhui, one of Zhou Xueyan’s oldest associates, read the eulogy swiftly—not because he felt less grief, but because so much of their bond was personal and unspeakable in public. Even such a brief farewell brought tears to his eyes as he, also 69, choked up while reading.

Ethan attended the funeral as well, even standing by Zhou Shirong. Though the elder Mr. Zhou had never favored this illegitimate son, customs dictated that he, as Zhou’s only son, would take a prominent role at the funeral. It was a bitter irony that Zhou Xueyan’s most trusted friends could do nothing to prevent.

After the crowd dispersed, Ethan leaned toward Zhou Shirong and murmured, "Well done."

Zhou, expressionless, replied, "Why don’t I feel any pangs of conscience?"

Ethan responded, "Because you’ve grown up. In this world, there's an abundance of conscience, but conscience won’t accomplish anything. From now on, whatever the will says, you’re no longer the playboy—you’ve transformed from a mere worm to a splendid butterfly, my dear Zhou."

Zhou glanced around, his eyes landing on two of his father’s old friends, both directors at Crescent Wellness, and several of his cousins. "I’m probably way down the inheritance line behind those old foxes and a few of my cousins. That older cousin of mine, in particular, seems suspicious, glaring at me constantly."

Ethan replied indifferently, "If they yield to you, they’ll thrive; if not, they’ll fall. Simple as that."

Zhou held firm, saying, "I won’t kill children."

Ethan looked at him, surprised.

Zhou continued, "I’m not planning to marry or have children, so these cousins are like my own. Don’t harm them, please."

Ethan scoffed, "We’ll see what the will says. After the funeral, the lawyers will read it."

Zhou abruptly asked, "What’s your name?"

Ethan replied, "The name I go by is Yubing Shaw. But my real name? I won’t tell anyone—whoever knows it might end up dead."

Zhou nodded, "Yubing Shaw will do. I don’t need to know anything more; everyone’s entitled to their secrets, especially you."

Ethan smiled, "Exactly, the ice of summer—each of us is just a summer insect, in a way."

The three lawyers Zhou Xueyan trusted most led the legal team, with Wei Xinzhong, the head lawyer, tasked with reading Zhou’s will.

The conference room of Crescent Wellness was packed with beneficiaries—Zhou’s ten grandchildren and their five parents. The recent disaster had claimed five of Zhou’s children, but their spouses survived. Also present were Zhou Shirong and his mother Fang Jinlin, along with the two board directors of Crescent Wellness.

Once everyone settled in, Wei began reading the will. Zhou Xueyan left 95% of his company shares, split into 11 equal portions. Each heir would receive approximately 8.64%, with each underage grandchild’s share to be managed by their parents as directors. The chairmanship would rotate among heirs, starting with the only adult heir, Zhou Shirong. If the board reached an impasse, decision-making authority would extend to all directors, including the two long-time business partners, who had no intention of interfering.

Lastly, Wei read a clause directly concerning Zhou Shirong, requiring him to protect his ten underage cousins. If any of them suffered harm within five years, Zhou would forfeit all his shares. To inherit, he had to agree to this term.

Everyone turned to Zhou with mixed expressions—half doubting his integrity, the other half skeptical of his capacity to commit the 218 murders. The case had become a mystery, as unsolvable as the Yulong Road explosion, with investigators stymied. Just yesterday, the building had finally reopened after weeks of inspection.

In response to the crowd’s skepticism, Zhou declared, "I have no intention of marrying or having children. I’ll ask Mr. Wei Xinzhong to draft my own will now: upon my death, all my shares of Crescent Wellness shall be divided equally among my ten cousins."

This unexpected declaration softened the doubt in the room somewhat.

…

Ethan Shaw and Nicole shared a purely transactional relationship, but even a make-believe romance could sometimes feel real. In their everyday interactions, they got along harmoniously, without the arguments and tension typical of regular couples, keeping things strictly professional.

One day, sensing her mood was off, Ethan asked, "Something wrong? You look a bit down. Did something happen?"

Nicole sighed, "I went with some friends to visit my old close friend, Bai Ya. I told you about her before—she’s got cancer and can’t afford treatment. She’s getting worse, and your Poseidon Card at the Allison Hospital isn’t high enough to cover anyone else. The only hope to save her is at Allison, but her cancer’s already spreading."

Ethan felt mildly insulted, as though his Poseidon Card had been critiqued. Then he remembered something Algernon had once told him: “Yes, you have free use of the Gray's Embrace. The more you use it, the worse the consequences become, and the clearer it will be what I meant.”

After a pause, Ethan said to Nicole, "I’ll take her to Allison. I’ll do everything I can to get her treated there."

Nicole’s eyes brightened, "Are you serious?"

Ethan smiled, "Where there’s a will, there’s a way."

They took a cab to pick up Bai Ya from her hospital, where she lay listless in bed, her once-beautiful face now drained of color. Nicole leaned close and said, "My boyfriend says he has a way to get you into Allison. Maybe there’s still hope. Shall we try?"

Bai Ya nodded resolutely, so they signed her discharge papers, and Ethan arranged an ambulance to Allison Hospital.

Allison Hospital was heavily guarded, with security personnel in crisp black uniforms—this was not a place to trifle with. Ethan had to show his Poseidon Card just to enter.

A nurse guided them to a consultation room, treating them politely. But after Ethan swiped his card, the doctor’s demeanor changed as he cleared his throat, "I’m sorry, sir, but it seems you may have misunderstood our policy. The Poseidon Card is for personal use only. We can’t assist this patient."

Ethan responded coolly, "I know, but I can pay. Crescent Wellness’s chairman is a friend of mine. Name the price, and I’ll have him cover it."

The doctor replied, "Sorry, sir, but our hospital operates differently. Medical cards are DNA-bound, and our treatment technology requires that DNA connection. Even if I wanted to help, there’s no way around it."

Ethan asked, "And what if I had a higher-level card? I heard there’s a top-tier card that allows treatment of third parties."

"That would be the Zeus Card, and yes, that would work. If you know someone with one, they could authorize it."

"Why refuse my money?"

The doctor replied, "I don’t understand either, sir. I’m just a doctor, and we rely on the hospital’s AI system for treatment protocols. Bypassing the identification is beyond my control."

Ethan asked, “How can I get a Zeus Card?”

The doctor replied, “Since you already have a Poseidon Card, you're indeed a valued client of ours. I can notify the Director, and he’ll be able to speak with you directly. How does that sound?”

Sensing the intensity and the controlled menace emanating from Ethan, the doctor, who understood that anyone holding a Poseidon Card wasn’t to be taken lightly, quickly chose to pass the responsibility to the Director.

Ethan nodded. “It’s inconvenient for the patient to be moved around. My friend is right here; I’ll talk to the Director and be back shortly.”

The doctor agreed, arranging for Baiya to lie down on a nearby hospital bed, and promptly placed a call to the Director, briefly explaining the situation.

A nurse escorted Ethan through several corridors, finally leading him to the Director’s office on the seventh floor. The office was located deep within the leadership wing, offering a view of distant mountains and a serene lake—a view made possible due to the hospital’s reputation and influence. In fact, this scenic piece of land had been a gift from a prominent figure in Wucheng, who, grateful for having his cancer miraculously cured here, had rewarded the hospital with the land as a gesture of appreciation and to establish strong connections.

“Come in.” The Director’s voice was cold and authoritative, used to dealing with difficult personalities. The nurse, accustomed to his demeanor, stuck her tongue out playfully before signaling to Ethan to enter.

The Director, having encountered his fair share of tough characters, barely registered Ethan’s presence, not even glancing in his direction, as he continued to gaze out the window at the picturesque landscape of mountains and lakes.

Ethan, unconcerned, stood silently at the doorway, waiting for this pretentious Director to turn around.