Chapter 606: The Judgment from Hell

"Very good, Los Angeles's all set. Chicago?"
UHIP President Carlson, listening to the phone with smug satisfaction, straightened his expensive tie in front of the mirror, an undisguised smile on his face.
[Reporting to the President, the Chicago regulatory authority is almost there too; the official notice of rejection of their license application will be issued soon.]
"Well done!" Carlson sneered,
"We need to teach Fang Huan and his bunch of arrogant yellow-skinned monkeys a lesson: this is America—our territory!"
He admitted that Fang Huan's investments did indeed wield considerable influence in the financial world.
But in America's insurance industry, in this territory that their cartel had built like an impregnable fortress...
Even if you're a dragon, you'll have to coil up!
"If Fang Huan wants to make money, go somewhere else," he said contemptuously.
"Why do they have to come and steal our food? Aren't they just asking for death?"
[Yes, President. Fang Huan seems to have been stunned by our fierce offensive; they haven't dared to utter a single word.]
"...That's a bit strange." Carlson frowned slightly.
"Given Fang Huan's stature, they shouldn't give in so easily. Could they be plotting something? Send someone to investigate."
[Understood, President.]
"Is there anything else?"
[Yes...there is. We just received intelligence today that someone leaked detailed personal information of our association's core members, including yourself, on the dark web.]
"What?!"
Carlson, who had just finished using the restroom in the luxury hotel lobby, froze at the mention of this, his face instantly darkening.
"Why are you only bringing this up now?! How serious is it?"
[You don't need to worry too much.
After all, it's only circulating on a small scale on the dark web, not on public social media platforms like Twitter. Probably very few people will see it.
Besides, look at those guys whose files were exposed on social media before—none of them got into trouble, right?]
Carlson thought about it and realized he was right.
This world is getting crazier and crazier. The thought of those lowly people worshipping murderers makes him feel physically nauseous.
A bunch of populist brainwashed idiots!
That's why the Insurance Association is acting swiftly, using drastic measures to suppress the trial's popularity and spending a fortune on online commentary control.
This damned "internet celebrity killer" must disappear from public view as soon as possible to prevent any sparks of copycat crimes from appearing.
"Keep a close eye on them! If any accounts are found disseminating these files, report them immediately and file lawsuits!
Send lawyer's letters until they're bankrupt! We must use the harshest methods to suppress this evil trend!"
[Yes, we're doing that.]
"Oh, by the way. Arrange a few more bodyguards for me.
My information has never been leaked before, so I didn't pay much attention, but now it seems better to be cautious."
[Yes, it's been arranged for you.]
"Okay, that's all for now. I'm about to leave the hotel, let's talk when we meet."
[Yes, Chairman.]
Hanging up the phone, Carlson breathed a long sigh of relief.
He had always felt absolutely safe.
Unlike those CEOs who flaunt their positions, Carlson was the true mastermind behind the scenes, his personal information never leaked through any public channel.
"Damn it, which bastard is pulling this stunt?"
Carlson cursed under his breath, opening the bathroom door and stepping out.
Just as he took a step, someone walking towards him bumped into him.
"Ah, sorry..." Carlson waved impatiently, about to turn away.
"Chairman Carlson."
A deep, hoarse voice sounded behind him, like a whisper from hell.
The voice wasn't loud, but every word seemed to be chilled to the bone, instantly piercing his soul!
A chill ran from Carlson's tailbone to the top of his head; his blood seemed to freeze in that instant.
"You, you are..."
He stiffly turned his head, and what came into view were eyes burning with the flames of vengeance, and a face twisted by pain and hatred!
"This is... revenge for my parents, you heartless bastard!"
The voice carried intense killing intent, like a judgment from hell.
The moment the words fell, Carlson's pupils shrank to pinpoints!
What greeted him was the cold, hard touch of metal—a gun barrel pressed firmly against his forehead!
That was his ticket to hell,
and the final chapter of his sinful life!
***
"..."
In the insurance association's conference room, a strange smell, a mixture of expensive cigars and cheap fear, filled the air.
Only a frozen, deathly silence remained, along with a group of insurance association executives who had lost their minds.
They had just attended the funeral of the association's president, Carlson, their faces blank with the same expression of shock and terror. They sat stiffly in their chairs, utterly dejected and ashen-faced.
Finally, a man with a balding, almost reflective, Mediterranean-style hairstyle broke the silence, trembling:
"Damn it… what was the killer's motive? Have they found out?!"
"Is that even a question?" A fat man, resembling a Michelin Man, scoffed.
"It's obvious he's after that insurance claim denial! Pure revenge against society!"
"Wait a minute! Even if it's revenge, shouldn't there be a clear cause and effect?"
Another man shook his head violently, as if trying to shake off the fear in his mind.
"If it's really about revenge, they should target the insurance agent who sold him the policy, or storm their company headquarters, like that unfortunate CEO who got his head blown off in the street last time!
But damn it, why did it have to be President Carlson…"
At this, the temperature in the meeting room seemed to drop another ten degrees.
A well-informed director, as if jolted awake from a nightmare, stammered:
"I...I just received news...on the dark web, someone has posted the personal files of all our association's core members...all of them!"
"Wh...what the hell?!"
The meeting room erupted in chaos!
The deathly silence was shattered by gasps of shock!
"That post...is inciting everyone, saying that killing those small fry is pointless..."
"If we're going to do it, let's do something big! Let's just take down all of us behind-the-scenes 'leaders' of the insurance association and kick us around like footballs!"
Indeed, small-scale operations—the deaths of a few salespeople, or even a few CEOs...
For these behemoths entrenched at the top of the industry pyramid, it's nothing more than a trivial number on a report, a topic of casual conversation.
Even the recent shooting of that unfortunate CEO was seen by them as nothing more than a media blunder, not something that truly shook their foundations.
After all, as long as the fire doesn't reach them, it's just a story.