"Much obliged then," the Fatty boomed with hearty laughter. He stood up, extending his right hand towards Blade, "I hope we may have opportunities to collaborate."

"Travel safely," Blade shook his hand and escorted him out.

After seeing the Fatty off, Blade handed the data chip to the relevant personnel for decryption, then returned the information to the base. There, the Ghost Operative Unit would comprehensively evaluate all factors, ultimately providing Yang Ying with recommendations from the General Staff on whether to establish friendly relations with the Caribbean Pirates.

Although the conversation concluded on a friendly note, both Blade and the Fatty knew that whatever was discussed here was merely aspirational, nothing substantial. Even if Blade promised to "speak favorably," it wouldn't change much. If the General Staff made an unfavorable assessment, Yang Ying might change his mind and freeze the matter.

In the base's command center, Yang Ying was tapping his fingers rhythmically on his desk. Suddenly, his fingers stopped, and he spoke slowly, "Horace hasn't caused any major incidents recently. So he's been doing this behind the scenes all along. Callya, go investigate and see if it's true."

The communicator on the desk was open. Callya's figure appeared on the holographic screen. He had already learned about the Fatty’s lobbying visit. He addressed Yang Ying: "Sir, this news is true. In fact, the Ghost Operative Unit has been noticing this for some time. However, at that time, Sir, you were on Jupiter, and this news wasn't critically important to the Jupiter Campaign, so we didn't focus much attention on it."

Yang Ying understood this. He was well aware that during the Jupiter Campaign, intelligence reports flooded in, and prioritizing based on importance was a method for efficiency. He asked in a normal tone, "Tell me, what do we know right now?"

"The total number of kidnapped hostages is around three to four thousand. The poorest among them are billionaires, and the wealthiest, themselves or their families, control the economic lifelines of certain industries on Earth. After the Jupiter Campaign began, they returned to the Inner Solar System in batches—dozens at a time, sometimes thousands, with no discernible pattern."

Callya's memory was exceptional even among ordinary people. As soon as Yang Ying asked, he poured out information like beans from a bucket: "It is noteworthy that they did not return with fanfare, nor did the Ape Worship Cult issue any statements or notify the Earth Forces in any way. They were simply let go quietly, and the hostages themselves kept a low profile; some weren't even reported to the police until a week after returning home."

Yang Ying let out a cold laugh: "The more I hear, the more suspicious it gets. Continue the investigation. That Fatty was right about one thing: the Ancient Legion will not let this slide. The role the Terran Mercenary Group played in the Jupiter Campaign surely hasn't escaped the apes' intelligence network. The Ancient Legion must be paying us far more attention now. After killing three Ape Masters, Horace might not feel secure letting Yego deal with us. I fear next time, he will make his own move, rather than sending those Emissaries of the Apes."

Callya bowed slightly, agreeing, "Sir, I feel the same. Based on current intelligence analysis, the Ape Worship Cult is the greatest near-term threat among all our enemies. We need to take countermeasures."

Yang Ying nodded. "Since that's the case, first, investigate those kidnapped guests thoroughly. Our next focus will shift entirely to the Ape Worship Cult."

"Yes, Sir." Callya closed the communication.

...

On Earth, in Manhattan, New York, downtown featured over fifty super-skyscrapers, four to five hundred stories high. They were almost devoid of ornamentation; their sheer height alone instilled awe and a sense of smallness in anyone standing at their base.

One of these fifty-plus towers belonged to the long-established Hilton Hotel Group. In this 456-story building, there were twenty Presidential Suites, each occupying an entire floor.

In the vast dining room of one such suite, the decor was perfectly arranged, effortlessly generating an atmosphere of elegance and luxury.

In the center of the dining room was a long table draped with a spotless white tablecloth. Upon the cloth rested two solid gold candelabras and pure silver cutlery. Though gold and silver were no longer inherently precious, the sheen on the candelabras and silverware revealed them to be genuine antiques, centuries old.

Two men sat opposite each other at the long table. One was immensely obese, sinking deep into a leather sofa upholstered with tiger skin. His eyelids drooped as if he struggled to keep them open. On his ten fingers, he wore eight rings and two thumb rings, each set with a different exquisitely polished gemstone—a riot of color and sparkle that instantly screamed 'nouveau riche.'

The man seated opposite him was his complete antithesis: tall and thin, with sharp eyes, sparse white hair, and a face wrinkled and puckered like a dried orange.

The obese man took a drag from the cigar clamped between his fingers. The flesh of his face twitched as he exhaled smoke, then pointed the hand holding the cigar toward the thin man, "Brother Bailey, care for one? This is the finest cigar produced in Havana. Rolled using the inner thigh of a virgin. Just smelling it clears the head, and smoking it releases a uniquely ethereal fragrance."

The thin man grinned, revealing a set of smooth, glossy teeth—clearly dentures. "Let me finish eating first, Ivan." He then picked up his knife and fork and sliced a piece of his rare steak, still faintly bloody, cut medium-rare. He speared the piece with his fork, raised it shakily, opened his mouth to reveal a blood-red interior, and then laboriously shoved the steak in. His teeth closed, biting down on the meat, and he began to chew.

"At your rate of eating, by the time you finish that steak, it will be dinnertime," the fat Ivan complained in a thick voice, clearly lacking patience.

"No rush, no rush. We're not being held hostage by the apes anymore. We're back on Earth; we have all the time in the world! This ordeal was another reminder that one must dedicate their limited life to infinite enjoyment, or face regret in death!" the thin Bailey said in a sharp voice.

"Losing face in Paradise City didn't stop you from enjoying yourself, Brother Bailey, as expected," Ivan flicked ash from his cigar. "Then let's talk while you eat. My time is tight; any slight delay could mean a massive loss."

"Fine, let me hear what you dragged me out for." Bailey swallowed the piece of beef with an exaggerated motion, his throat contracting visibly. He set down his utensils and chuckled twice sharply. "You must have sent everyone else out just so we could talk about the Ape Worship Cult, right?"

Ivan said in a low voice, "This matter is too classified. Better to be careful. Everyone on and off this floor is watched by my men. This dining room is enclosed by the kitchen, three bedrooms, the living room, and other rooms—you can't see outside the building at all. The walls are made of sound-absorbing material; it’s practically designed for secret talks. It’s very safe here."

"Speak, then. What do you need my help with?" Bailey looked at Ivan impassively.

"The Intelligence Department is eyeing me, and it's starting to affect my business. That's not the worst of it; if they discover what I've been doing for the Ape Worship Cult, it might implicate others," Ivan finished, taking another deep puff of his cigar.

"The 'others' you mention, do they include me?" Bailey cackled, "Heh heh, Ivan, are you threatening me?"

"Not at all, Brother Bailey. How could you be afraid of such minor entanglement? I still vividly recall the scene where you refused the interrogation by the Psi Temple. If you hadn't been so resolute, none of us would have managed to utter a single lie under the questioning of those Psi Masters." Ivan complimented him respectfully.

Although Bailey knew he was being flattered to elicit his help, speaking of his past dealings with the Psi Temple still stirred a wave of pride within him, and he couldn't help but burst into laughter:

"Hahahaha... Do you remember what I said back then? I said the Psi Temple is full of non-human monsters. If they possess power beyond the ordinary, they must be subjected to restrictions beyond the ordinary, otherwise, they pose a terrifying danger to human society. Today, allowing them the power to probe our minds with evil sorcery would set a very bad precedent. From then on, humans would have absolutely no privacy left in the face of Psi users. Nothing like this had been heard of for hundreds of years. To prevent the disruption of human societal order, I only permitted personnel from the Intelligence Department to question me."

His words sounded as if he were recounting a glorious history.

Ivan also laughed, "The Intelligence Department is like your private garden, Brother. You were the Director of Intelligence for ten years. Even though you're retired, your protégés and old colleagues are spread throughout the department. Having the Intelligence Department question you is practically the same as not questioning you at all. The reason I asked you here is that I hope you can just say a word to make the Intelligence Department bother me less. Ivan will surely repay you handsomely."

"Easy enough, easy enough," Bailey cut another piece of beef, his right hand trembling as he brought the meat to his mouth.

Ivan smiled faintly and began recounting his memories: "Remember how we unified our stance? If the Psi users dared to spy on our thoughts, we would use every means necessary to expose their true nature to the world. Think about those ignorant commoners; once they knew there were monsters capable of reading their minds nearby, fear would dominate their thoughts, and another wave of opposition against the Awakened would surge."

"Human society would inevitably descend into chaos, and under civilian pressure, the military would no longer trust the Psi users. Then, the front lines would retreat steadily, and the Ancient Legion would be the ultimate beneficiary. This fully proves that our strength is formidable; even the omnipotent Psi Temple had to back down under the pressure exerted by our entire group!" By the end, Ivan wildly waved his cigar, scattering ash everywhere.