491: Chapter 486 Hatred Makes You Stupid

Then, he pushed the empty meal cart and bowed as he retreated, without saying another word from beginning to end.

The room door closed again.

Kevin looked at the manila envelope, then looked at Shen Yan.

Shen Yan picked up a slice of toast and took a bite.

"Open it and see."

Kevin walked over and tore open the seal of the paper bag with trembling hands.

Inside were several brand new identification documents.

A passport from Country M.

A driver's license.

A Social Security Card.

The photo on them was taken in the car the night he was taken away from the farm.

Haggard, but his features were clear.

And the name on all the documents was only one:

Adam Smith.

A name so ordinary it couldn't be more common.

Kevin held the passport, his fingertips turning cold.

In just one night.

This man had conjured up a flawless identity for him out of thin air in this strange country.

This level of skill surpassed his twenty years of understanding of power.

What was the background of this Eastern man before his eyes?

"Eat."

Shen Yan's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"After you eat, we start working."

This day was longer for Kevin than any day before it.

They did not leave the suite a single step.

Shen Yan was like the strictest director, guiding Kevin, his only actor.

"The angle of the story is wrong."

Shen Yan looked at the first draft Kevin had written and directly hit the delete key.

"Don't just write about your anger; that will only make you look like a spoiled rich kid throwing a tantrum."

"Write about your fear."

"Write about the despair you felt in the cable car as you felt the steel cable snap inch by inch."

"Write about the helplessness when the drug took effect after dinner, feeling the whole world sinking, yet being unable to utter a single word."

"Make the readers feel your pain, and only then will they stand by you."

Kevin gritted his teeth and deleted all the words of accusation and cursing.

He started over, digging out the fears he had deliberately forgotten from the abyss of his memory, one word at a time.

Afternoon.

Shen Yan handed Kevin a brand new cell phone.

"The number is already set. Call Sarah."

"What should I say?"

"Tell her that Martin's death was not an accident. Tell her you have evidence that can send the killer to hell."

"Then, hand the phone to me."

The call connected.

Kevin spoke those few sentences in a hoarse voice, following Shen Yan's instructions.

The woman on the other end of the line instantly started breathing heavily.

Kevin handed the phone to Shen Yan.

Shen Yan didn't speak; he just pressed a button on the phone.

A recording was transmitted through the earpiece.

It was a conversation between the pimp Martin and Andrew before Martin died.

The content was about State Senator Howard's 'special hobby'.

The recording was short, only thirty seconds.

But Sarah on the other end of the line had already started sobbing.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Someone who can help you get revenge," Shen Yan's voice carried no emotion.

"At eight o'clock tonight, I will have Adam deliver a file to the locker at the 'Clover' bar."

"Rick Banner, the star reporter for the St. Louis Bugle, will pick it up."

"What you need to do is place the USB drive your brother left behind in there as well."

"How can I trust you?"

"You have no choice."

Shen Yan hung up the phone.

Evening.

When Kevin saved the finally revised 'Victim's Statement' and the materials regarding the State Senator into an encrypted USB drive, his hands were no longer trembling.

The first move had been made.

He didn't know what the result would be.

But he knew that from this moment on, the sky over St. Louis was about to change.

For the next few days, the air in the suite felt as if it had been sucked dry.

Oppressive and taut.

The screens of two laptops were lit up twenty-four hours a day.

On them were city maps of St. Louis, densely marked with various red and blue dots.

Those were the activity trajectories of the stableman Old John and the Engineer Pete.

Through a local middleman named 'Ghost,' Shen Yan had hired the best Private Detectives in the city to follow these two men like shadows.

Their home addresses, their children's schools, their mistresses' apartments, the casinos they frequented...

All information flowed like a small stream, converging on Shen Yan.

Kevin was responsible for organizing this intelligence.

He barely slept, his eyes bloodshot.

Coffee and cigarettes had become his only sustenance.

He was like a wild beast trapped in a cage, anxiously awaiting the signal to strike.

The flames of hatred burned his sanity every second.

"Old John's son is going to a private high school entrance interview at four this afternoon."

Kevin pointed to a spot on the screen, his voice hoarse.

"We can start with his son."

"Pete is going to the 'Rattlesnake' casino tonight; he's lost a lot of money recently."

"We can have the casino set a trap for him, making him owe a debt he can never repay."

Shen Yan didn't speak.

He just looked at Kevin's face, slightly contorted by excitement.

He stood up and closed the laptop in front of Kevin.

With a soft 'snap.'

Kevin looked up sharply, a flash of crimson in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"The plan is paused."

Shen Yan picked up his jacket.

"Come out with me for a moment."

"I'm not going!" Kevin roared, "Andrew could discover us at any moment; we don't have time to waste!"

Shen Yan turned and looked at him.

"Your hatred is making you stupid."

"A sword without a sheath will cut the hand holding it before it wounds the enemy."

"You are that sword right now."

With that, he walked straight toward the door.

Kevin sat where he was, his chest heaving violently.

A few seconds later, he grabbed the cigarette case from the table and followed out fiercely.

The night in St. Louis was cold as water.

Shen Yan drove a rented ordinary sedan, threading through the glittering city.

He didn't speak.

Kevin was also silent, smoking one cigarette after another.

The car finally stopped at the foot of a skyscraper.

"Skyline Bar."

Shen Yan turned off the ignition.

It was an open-air bar on the top floor, not large, but with an excellent view.

One could look down upon most of the night scenery of St. Louis.

It wasn't the weekend, so there weren't many people in the bar; it was very quiet.

The two found a spot by the railing and sat down.

A waiter came over; Shen Yan ordered a whiskey and ordered a glass of warm milk for Kevin.

Kevin frowned.

"I'm not a child."

"Your current mental state is not suitable for consuming alcohol."

"Besides, what else are you in my eyes if not a child?"

Shen Yan's tone brooked no argument.

Kevin ultimately said nothing and picked up the glass of milk.

The warm liquid slid down his throat, seeming to dispel some of the anxiety in his heart.

The two sat in silence like that.

Below their feet were the dazzling city lights, like a spread-out galaxy.