Blackstone Code-Chapter 666: Natural Protection

The big players didn’t want to get directly involved.

There was no doubt about that. Remember how they took down EverBright?

The local investigation bureau, tax bureau, police department, and the Safety Committee all acted together, giving EverBright’s executives no chance to react. They were all arrested and thrown into a secret prison.

Soon after, some details of the case were released to the public, and in the end, those executives confessed their crimes in court.

Notably, the trial was not public. In other words, no one could confirm whether those standing in the defendant’s dock were really EverBright’s top brass—or if it was all just a show.

When Liston fell, it was similar. Local investigators, tax officers, and police moved as one, leaving no room to breathe.

But look at things now. Only the state tax bureau is working on this case. The police chief doesn’t know who’s pulling the strings, but he’s certain—this won’t end the way they want.

If a single state tax bureau agent—or the entire bureau—could bring down a major corporation, then equality would already exist in the Federation.

“Who’s on the phone?”

Fern sat on the couch, chatting about explicit topics with a young, attractive woman. A few years ago, they cowered under the shadow of the newspaper boss. Now they wore tailored suits, moved through high-end venues, and enjoyed every luxury.

All because they had chosen the right person to follow.

Those who’ve suffered understand the value of sweetness—and are the last to return to bitterness.

That’s different from kids born with silver spoons in their mouths. They’ve lived in comfort from the start and never tasted hardship. Some of them even romanticize suffering, thinking it’s the true essence of life.

Sure, they can afford to be willful. But not every regret can be reversed.

The Green brothers never considered breaking out on their own. They weren’t cut out for that. All their connections to the city’s elite were tied to one man—Mr. Lynch.

Without Lynch, no one would even meet with them. Their money, their status—everything came from Lynch. They had no foundation for ambition.

A burden-free life was happiness enough.

With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Noel bundled a stack of eye-catching cash with a rubber band and tossed it on the table. The end of the month was near—it was time to distribute the money.

Everyone in the room stared at the stacks, uncertain which was theirs but all eager for the biggest cut.

“It’s the police chief,” Noel said, removing his cigarette, tilting his head slightly to blow the smoke away from himself. “He said someone’s investigating us. I need to tell Mr. Lynch.”

He pointed at the door. Everyone in the room stood up and left. Like it or not, they had to obey. That was the Green brothers’ privilege.

They could kill—or have others killed. Whether it was the kids from the old days, or the new generation, everyone feared the two teenage brothers.

These days, talk was cheap. But people who actually pulled the trigger? Rare. The Federation was, after all, a country of law—and that wasn’t a joke.

Only Noel and Fern remained. Even Fern’s companion had been sent away.

Noel straightened his clothes, took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.

People said he was ruthless. They feared him just by looking into his eyes.

But when it came to facing Lynch, he was afraid too.

He didn’t know why. He just was. Whether Lynch was angry or smiling, he inspired fear. Maybe it was the scent of something darker, more violent, that clung to him.

The phone rang a few times, then connected. Lynch’s warm voice came through. “This is Lynch…”

Noel had been sitting, but the sound made him tense up and stand. Holding his forehead, he walked to the window and said in a low voice, “Mr. Lynch, this is Noel. The police chief from Sabin City just called—someone’s investigating us.”

“Investigating you? What’s there to investigate?” Lynch was surprised at first, but quickly caught on. “State tax bureau?”

“I’m not sure,” Noel admitted honestly, not daring to lie.

Lynch’s tone barely changed, but Noel could feel the anger in his last few words. Maybe it was instinct.

Lynch chuckled softly. Coming onto his turf and launching a high-profile investigation wasn’t just an insult—it was a threat to survival.

If anyone could come and investigate him at will, hoping to dig up some explosive scoop, then Sabin City would descend into chaos.

If he didn’t respond, people would think he was scared. That he wasn’t as tough as his image. That even when wronged, he wouldn’t fight back.

Just look at how federal capitalists react. Even if an ordinary person took a single cent too much, they’d spend tens or hundreds of thousands to sue them into ruin.

And when it came to the federal government, they’d go on the offensive—manipulating public opinion, bribing high-level officials, even openly backing political rivals.

After half a minute of silence, Lynch made his decision.

“I’ve heard there’ve been lots of traffic accidents in Sabin City lately. Luckily, no deaths yet. You should be careful when traveling from now on.”

Noel nodded hard. “Understood, Mr. Lynch. Also, the police chief sends his regards.”

“I got it…”

After hanging up, Noel looked at Fern. Their eyes met, and they immediately understood each other—they were brothers, after all.

Fern strode to the door, grabbed his coat, and left the office.

Meanwhile, the scarred man was walking through the streets after leaving the police station, visibly agitated.

The lack of cooperation from local law enforcement frustrated him. He had underestimated Lynch’s standing in the local government—and overestimated the state tax bureau’s reputation.

He had already asked the assistant director to request assistance from the FBI and put out a statewide alert for the dealer.

Whether they could actually find him didn’t matter much. That bastard might already be in another state—or, as Michael suspected, Lynch may have dealt with him already.

It was just a lead. The real breakthrough would have to come from the newsboys.

He looked down at the files in his hand and selected one—a girl.

She had biological parents and two older brothers. All three children had been sent off to different places for child labor.

With a stable family background and being a girl, she might be easier to get talking.

He quickly made up his mind and got into the car. As it slowly started, he skillfully checked his surroundings using the rearview mirror. Just as he passed the second intersection, a car ran a red light and slammed into his.

The massive impact left his mind blank for a moment. His body was thrown from the driver’s seat to the passenger side.

Fortunately, the other driver braked in time. Otherwise, the outcome could have been tragic.

As he checked himself and confirmed he wasn’t bleeding, someone suddenly approached the passenger window and said in a low voice, “This time we hit the brakes. Next time we won’t.”

“This isn’t your turf. You’d better go back to where you came from. You’re not welcome here.”

By the time he turned sharply to look, the man had already turned and was walking away quickly.

He tried to chase after him, but the moment he opened the car door, he collapsed to the ground. The violent collision had thrown off his balance. He struggled twice but couldn’t get up, finally giving up.

Not long after, police cars and an ambulance arrived. He grabbed an officer’s arm and pointed at the driver—now bleeding heavily in the other car. “He did it on purpose! It was deliberate!”

“This was attempted murder!”

He was genuinely terrified. In that moment, he had felt death approaching. It was a hard feeling to describe—an instinctive awareness, like some primal biological warning that his life was ending.

He had never imagined dying in some rural backwater. He was still young, with a bright future. How could he die here?

But when that man delivered the warning, his fear deepened.

Accidents don’t happen every day. But murder? That can happen any time.

Still holding onto the officer, he shouted again and again, pointing at the driver who was likely part of the same group.

The police dragged the man from his car and laid him on a stretcher. One of them shook his head and told the investigator, “He wasn’t trying to kill you. He was just drunk…”

In the Federation, there were still no laws against drunk driving. At this time, people from every industry and social class drank heavily.

Especially the middle and upper classes—if they weren’t drinking, they were on their way to drink, often driving themselves.

If such a law were passed, they’d have to spend more money hiring full-time drivers—an added cost. And the whole reason they held power wasn’t to make life harder for themselves.

Maybe someday a law would exist—but not yet.

He looked at the police in disbelief as they let the killer go. Even more absurdly, they turned to him. “You don’t sound local. Can I see your license?”

That’s when the chill truly sank into his bones. He knew—this was all connected to his investigation of Lynch.

He had written about near-death experiences before. Now he had finally lived through one.

One night, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation of death. He didn’t sleep a wink. The only thing he felt was that death could strike at any moment.

It wasn’t pain or discomfort—just a certainty that he was going to die.

Later, a doctor said it might have been coronary ischemia (reduced blood flow to the heart), but an angiogram (a scan of the heart’s blood vessels) showed nothing wrong. To this day, he still doesn’t know the cause.