From a distance, the Caesar Headquarters building resembled a towering, somber monolith of deep grey stone, each of its floors boasting a volume far greater than several typical stories combined. Even in New York, a city teeming with wealth and staggering economic vitality, such a massive, imposing structure was rare. An ordinary person standing at its base would feel instantly overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of the architecture, inspiring an involuntary sense of awe—it was truly a marvel of structural engineering.
At this very moment, in the top-floor office of that tower, Gaius, the patriarch of the Caesar Family and Chairman/CEO of the Caesar Group, stood before an expansive mahogany desk. He was clad in a meticulously tailored grey suit, the knot of his tie secured by a clasp set with a single, dazzling, flawless natural diamond.
The décor of the office spoke of nothing less than exquisite luxury; even the smallest artifact seemed imbued with the weight of history.
Gaius pulled open a drawer and retrieved a cigar from a cedar humidor nestled within. With a precise snip of the cutter, he lit the tip and took a slow draw, exhaling a perfect, curling ring of smoke.
He had recently received devastating news: two core members of the Caesar Family had been assassinated, and both the Biological Research Center and the Physics Research Center had been systematically annihilated. Even for the immensely affluent Caesar Group, this represented a severe blow.
If it were merely an economic loss, he would hardly give it a second thought. What were a couple of minor research institutes in the grand scheme of the Caesar Group’s holdings? With their capital reserves, rebuilding two facilities would be trivial.
What was crucial to the Caesar Group, however, were the top-tier scientists housed within those centers and their latest breakthroughs—they represented the zenith of the Group’s technological prowess. Facilities could be rebuilt, but the lost data and the scientists themselves were irreplaceable. It was akin to shearing off the peak of Mount Caesar’s technological mountain, instantly reducing the entire massif’s elevation.
The communication device on the desk suddenly chimed, followed by a breathless female voice: “Chairman, the Head of Information Services is forcing his way in, I can’t stop him—”
Before the sentence finished, the office door burst open. A fastidiously dressed but utterly panicked, balding middle-aged man rushed in, shouting incoherently, “Chairman, disaster! News about the Santos Secret Laboratory has exploded online—it’s going viral everywhere, and all the blame is pointed directly at us, the Caesar Group!”
Gaius’s brow tightened. More bad news. He raised a hand to quell the man’s outburst. “Calm yourself. Panic solves nothing.” Gaius knew that if the man had run up personally rather than using communication channels, whatever had happened must be far too complex or urgent to relay verbally.
The Head of Information Services nodded repeatedly, snatching several quick breaths. Once his breathing steadied, he recounted the developing online catastrophe.
As Gaius listened, an icy glint appeared in his eyes, making the Information Chief feel as if he were in the presence of a thousand-year-old serpent, its chilling, damp essence slowly flicking its tongue toward him, raising goosebumps all over his skin.
“You cannot sever the information's propagation?”
“It’s impossible, sir. The information spread too fast—it appeared simultaneously across all major platforms. It’s unstoppable now.”
Smack!
Gaius slammed his hand down on the desk. “The Caesar Group pays you not to tell me what cannot be done! I don’t care what methods you employ, you must contain this stream of information.”
“Yes, sir!” The Information Chief, thinking he was dismissed, felt a profound sense of relief and spun around to flee faster than he had entered.
“Wait!”
Gaius’s frigid voice made the Chief freeze mid-turn, and he promptly returned to stand before the desk.
“What is the mood among the staff?” Gaius took a long drag from his cigar, releasing a plume of smoke that dissipated in the air, resolving momentarily into a hazy ring.
The secret research conducted by Santos was a matter of grave severity, known only to a select few even within the upper echelons of the Caesar Group, aside from those directly involved.
The Information Chief answered with caution: “Morale is… unstable. The level of fluctuation is quite significant.”
“I understand. Now go back and work,” Gaius waved his hand dismissively.
As the heavy office door slammed shut, Gaius sat down and pressed the intercom. “Summon every senior executive from the Propaganda Department to the conference hall. Immediately.”
“Understood,” replied the secretary’s voice.
Releasing the intercom, Gaius stubbed out the cigar, his brow furrowed in contemplation. He murmured to himself, “Who exactly? Who dares to attack the Caesar Family?”
After a long moment, he rose and headed toward the conference hall.
The benefit concert on Ceres had finally drawn to a close, bringing relief to many. This performance, while brilliant, had been tragically unappreciated, and now it was over.
People dispersed from the venue, chatting and laughing, the most prevalent topic being Jia You Na’s ethereal and almost unbelievable singing voice. After this night, her image and music would be permanently etched into countless minds.
As he was leaving, Daofeng spotted Jia You Na’s entourage again from a distance. Jia You Na seemed to sense his gaze, turning to offer him a beautiful smile.
Daofeng gave a slight nod in return. Suddenly, Jia You Na’s voice resonated directly in his mind: “When we meet next time on Xifan Continent, we can converse as friends.”
Daofeng recognized the telepathic transmission and replied in kind: “I hope so. Until we meet again.”
Jia You Na raised her hand in a slight wave and turned to depart.
This was the VIP exit; few people surrounded Daofeng. Those few who witnessed the gesture, unable to hear the mental exchange, assumed the singer-ambassador was waving farewell to them. They hastily waved back, calling out Jia You Na’s name.
Leaving the VIP corridor, Daofeng returned to his vehicle and directed it toward the port.
Secret Base, Ghost Special Operations Hall. Yang Ying sat in the command chair, observing the two hundred-plus personnel working intently at their consoles below.
A Ghost operative suddenly called out, “Sir, the Caesar Group is reacting!”
Yang Ying looked up; he had been awaiting this moment for some time.
“Their response is slightly slower than anticipated. Switch to the main screen.”
The main screen displayed the image of the Caesar Group’s press officer, clearly broadcasting from a press conference, judging by the backdrop.
This officer was undeniably eloquent, using highly persuasive rhetoric to dismiss all the video evidence as digitally fabricated footage, and classifying the textual data as pure invention. He characterized the entire event as the most malicious and idiotic attack ever leveled against the Caesar Group.
A reporter pressed him: “Officer, what basis do you have for these claims?”
The officer replied with a tone bordering on derision: “You can easily find any horror movie and see similar scenes everywhere. This supposed Santos Secret Research Facility looks no different from those sets. Those villains, thinking they can just dump this footage along with some fabricated text to smear the Caesar Group, are doomed to fail in their scheme.”
He suddenly raised his hand, pointing directly at the screen, and boomed: “If the conspirators are watching this now, listen closely! On behalf of the Caesar Group, I announce that we will hunt you down, scour the entire globe, and make you understand the consequences of slandering the Caesar Group!”
Another reporter stood up: “But the textual data is incredibly rich, appearing as undeniable proof. Isn’t dismissing it all as fabrication too simplistic, sir?”
Yang Ying leaned slightly forward. “Hmm, I’m surprised the Caesar Group’s press conference is allowing such a challenging reporter.”
The officer on screen frowned, clearly surprised by the question himself. Normally, reporters invited to Caesar Group briefings were acquaintances who maintained a level of deference.
Kaliya walked over. “Actually, this is normal. A reporter needs to break a major story to become renowned. Perhaps this journalist is overly ambitious, trying to use this incident as a stepping stone.”
At this, Kaliya smiled. “It seems our operation has achieved the desired effect. After all, if the data we uploaded wasn't highly credible, we wouldn't be seeing journalists of this caliber asking such questions.”
Although momentarily thrown off balance by the unexpected query, the officer quickly regained his composure and stated righteously: “Evidence requires both testimony and physical proof. Physical proof alone, no matter how convincing, cannot be called irrefutable. But this data was uploaded anonymously—where is the human testimony? What explanation is there other than defamation?”
The reporter paused, then sat down.
Another journalist rose: “The text states that two high-ranking members within the Caesar Group are implicated in the Santos Secret Research Facility, even detailing their financial transactions and travel schedules. Where are these two individuals now? Could they step forward to clarify?”
Yang Ying paid close attention. The primary reason for eliminating those two executives in the plan was precisely to prevent them from offering clumsy denials. If they were alive, they would always find ways to cover things up. Dead men, however, were different. The maxim, dead men tell no tales, had circulated for millennia, becoming an undeniable truth.
The fact that these two high-ranking figures died at this exact juncture offered rich material for speculation, especially for the astute, who would inevitably connect their demise to silencing them.
The officer’s eyelid twitched slightly. After a pause, he stated: “Unfortunately, both of them have a habit of exploring extreme environments for adventure. The Group attempted emergency contact, but it seems they have reached an area where radio signals barely penetrate, rendering communication impossible.”