chapter 97

The city continued its relentless churn, oblivious to the man at its heart, whose name, once a symbol of power, was now a whispered word laden with scorn and speculation. The formal announcement of a criminal investigation into Lin Yuan's personal financial dealings and alleged corporate fraud sent shockwaves through the nation, echoing across gleaming skyscrapers and into the quiet corners of forgotten alleys. This was no longer just about asset forfeiture or regulatory fines; this was an attack on his very liberty, a public declaration of his moral bankruptcy.

The news broke during the frenetic lunch hour, splashed across every major news channel and digital platform. A stern-faced prosecutor, flanked by grim-faced investigators, stood before a phalanx of microphones, his voice amplified, declaring the state's unwavering commitment to "rooting out corruption at the highest levels." His words painted Lin Yuan as a deceitful mastermind, weaving a complex web of shell companies and illegal offshore accounts. The implications were clear: prison time, disgrace, the complete annihilation of his legacy.

In a hushed, cluttered office that once belonged to a mid-level manager but now served as Lin Yuan's temporary headquarters, the small, beleaguered core team watched the televised press conference. Dr. Mei, her face pale, clenched her fists, her knuckles white. "This is it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "They're going for the jugular. Not just the money, but his freedom." Ms. Jiang, seated opposite, her eyes fixed on the screen, felt a cold dread creep into her bones. Her own financial reports had been meticulously audited for months, confirming Lin Yuan's compliance, yet the accusations flew unfettered. "The allegations are baseless, Dr. Mei," she stated, her voice strained. "Every transaction was above board. Every account legally declared. This is a fabrication, designed to… to destroy him completely." Old Hu, standing by the dusty window, his broad back to them, simply sighed, a sound heavy with weariness that seemed to carry the weight of the entire world. He felt the threads of their fight fraying, fraying under the relentless, orchestrated pressure. He thought of the young Ms. Fang, who had left just days ago, driven away by the threats to her family. Could he blame her? Could he?

Across the city, in a quiet, unassuming apartment filled with the scent of dried herbs and simmering tea, Tang Ruyi sat beside her cracked porcelain teapot. She had just switched off the small television in the corner, its ominous pronouncements echoing in her mind. Her hands, delicate and slightly arthritic, trembled as she poured another cup of tea. She understood little of finance or corporate machinations, but the words of the prosecutor, the harsh tone of the commentators, they painted a picture of her son as a criminal, a deceitful monster. Her son. Her gentle, ambitious, always-too-busy son. The public accusations against her own humble foundation had already bruised her spirit, leaving her cautious and withdrawn. But this… this was different. This was an attack on Lin Yuan's very soul, on the boy she had raised. She had tried to call him, but his line had been busy for hours. A knot of anxiety tightened in her chest. Did he know she was being targeted too? Did he know how much she worried? She wished he had someone, a wife, a family of his own, to share this burden, to protect him. A profound loneliness, mirroring his, settled upon her.

Meanwhile, in the lavish, marble-clad penthouse of the Global Financial Times, Mr. Chen, Lin Yuan's former CFO who had wisely resigned months ago, nursed a glass of imported whiskey. He scrolled through the latest headlines on his private terminal, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. "Criminal investigation, eh?" he muttered to himself, the words tasting like a bitter triumph. "Took them long enough. Lin Yuan always played too close to the edge. Too arrogant, too believing in his own genius. He thought he was untouchable." Chen remembered the early days, the audacious risks, the sheer brilliance of Lin Yuan's vision. He'd admired it, even respected it, but he'd also seen the recklessness, the singular focus that alienated potential allies. He'd secured a comfortable consulting position with a rival firm, providing "strategic insights" into the vulnerabilities of former conglomerates. He'd sold his knowledge, for a hefty price. He felt a pang of something akin to pity, but it was fleeting, quickly swallowed by the satisfaction of his own, personal survival. He had jumped ship before the whole thing sank.

At the bustling, newly expanded headquarters of "Titan Logistics," a company that had rapidly absorbed many of the routes and clients abandoned by Lin Yuan's Green Canopy Logistics, CEO David Guo raised a glass of champagne with his ecstatic board. "To new horizons!" he boomed, his face flushed with success. "And to the natural selection of the market! Lin Yuan thought he owned the future. He didn't understand the ground game. The relentless grind. He was too focused on grand visions, too detached from the true grit of operations. Our market share has doubled in three months, our revenue projections are soaring. His downfall is our ascent. And with these criminal charges, he's permanently out of the picture. No more looming shadow." He felt a surge of exhilaration. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, the vacuum he'd dreamt of filling. The thousands of skilled logistics workers, suddenly jobless from Lin Yuan's collapse, had been a godsend, providing a ready pool of talent for his aggressive expansion.

On a crowded public bus rattling through a working-class district, two women, Ms. Zhang and Ms. Li, clutched their shopping bags, their conversation punctuated by the jerky movements of the vehicle. "Did you hear?" Ms. Zhang whispered, leaning closer. "They're saying Lin Yuan stole money! From his own companies! And even from his mother's charity!"

Ms. Li gasped, her eyes wide. "No! I saw that on the news. I always thought he was so clever. So rich. What a shock! And he's still not married? No family? Such a shame. A man with all that money, you'd think he'd have a wife and kids, something to ground him. Maybe that's why he's like this, all alone. No one to keep him honest."

"My cousin, he worked for Lin Yuan's smart city project," Ms. Zhang continued, shaking her head. "Lost his job last month. Said everyone's struggling to find work now. It's terrible. But then, some people say it's good. That he had too much power, that the rich need to be brought down. It's confusing."

Back in the dim, makeshift office, Ms. Jiang's phone buzzed incessantly. She looked at the caller ID: a frantic junior lawyer from a firm that had previously assisted them. "Ms. Jiang," the voice on the other end was breathless, "the Ministry of Justice just contacted us. They're demanding all our records related to Lin Yuan's personal accounts. They're trying to find any possible angle. This is a fishing expedition, but a serious one. Our firm is getting cold feet. We might have to... withdraw."

Ms. Jiang closed her eyes. This was the final, brutal squeeze. Legal counsel deserting them, the state apparatus closing in. The weight of it all pressed down on her, a crushing, suffocating burden. She looked at Dr. Mei, whose usually sharp gaze was now fixed on some distant point, and Old Hu, whose silence was heavier than any spoken word. Lin Yuan was not just facing public ruin; he was being systematically isolated, stripped of every protection, every support. The world was shrinking around them, leaving only the cold, hard reality of an impending, inevitable reckoning. The empire was gone. Now, they were coming for the man himself.