40: Chapter 40 Revealed! The Claws of Power—The Full Picture of the Ouroboros

Deep in the night, three days later.

The printer in the safe house hummed rhythmically as sheets of paper, still warm to the touch, slid onto the tray.

These were the documents Ava had sent via an encrypted dark web mailbox, the file name consisting of only one simple word: Ouroboros.

Chen Mo and George sat around the table; as the documents were spread out page by page, the expressions on both their faces froze.

This was more than just intelligence; it was an autopsy report, dissecting the deadliest tumor within the behemoth that was America.

"Good God…" George picked up an organizational chart, his fingers trembling slightly over it.

"Look at these backers. The Rockefeller Family Foundation, Vanguard Group's black-box accounts, BlackRock's Defense Investment Division… This is a monster raised collectively by top financial conglomerates."

The documents indicated that Ouroboros did not belong to any single family, but was directly subordinate to the supreme decision-making body known as "The Council."

It was an independent adjudicating body possessing law enforcement powers that superseded the FBI and CIA—illegally, of course.

It had only two functions:

1. Cleaner: To eliminate any individual or organization that threatened the interests of The Council.

2. Sheepdog: To drive politicians and enterprises to follow the path set by The Council through assassinations, manufacturing scandals, and financial sniping.

In the appendix of the documents, Chen Mo saw that familiar designation: Project 734.

"Look here," Chen Mo said, pointing to a line of small print. "Project 734. Note: Preliminary experiments for biological cybernetics and consciousness uploading, currently in the third phase of field testing. That is, the kind of thing we encountered last night."

"These lunatics…" George took off his glasses and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"They turn retired veterans or death row inmates into obedient killing machines. I did dirty work for the CIA for thirty years, and compared to them, I feel like a nun doing charity work."

"That explains why they were so nervous about that USB drive and the ledger."

Chen Mo sneered, "That idiot Marcus thought he was holding a life-saving talisman, but in reality, it was a death warrant. Once it involves the core interests of The Council, no one survives."

Just then, an audio file popped up on the computer screen.

Chen Mo clicked play, and Ava's voice, slightly weary yet filled with ambition, echoed in the room.

"You've seen the documents; this is the abyss I face every day. To get this, I was almost discovered by the family's security director."

The voice paused for a moment, then became resolute.

"Now, it is your turn to fulfill your promise.

The family has given me an ultimatum: if I cannot produce decent results by next month, they will marry me off to that fat congressman in Texas who has nothing but oil and strippers on his mind.

I don't want that five million in cash; that would only make me die faster.

I want a company—a clean, profitable company that looks like a genius investment."

"As long as you can do that, I can apply to access deeper files on the elimination plans. That is the deal."

The audio finished playing.

Chen Mo leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop.

"She is smart," George commented.

"She knows it's better to teach a man to fish than to give him a fish. Moreover, once this money becomes a legal business asset, the family will find it hard to swallow it up directly."

"But she is also greedy," Chen Mo said, looking at Ava's photo on the screen.

"She wants to use my abilities to provide ammunition for her internal struggle within the family."

"So what do you intend to do? Refuse her?"

"No." Chen Mo stood up and walked to the whiteboard covered in photos and red lines.

"We agree to her terms. This perfectly solves our biggest pain point—money laundering."

Chen Mo picked up a marker and wrote the number "5,000,000" on the whiteboard.

"The money we have in hand either came from black-on-black crime or from the Legacy of the dead.

If we want to truly grasp power in this country, we must step into the sunlight. We need a legal shell, a glamorous-looking investment company."

"And the name Ava Rockefeller is the best golden signboard."

George frowned: "But there is a problem. You cannot show your face; you are a dead man.

I cannot show my face either; I am a wanted criminal. Although Ava has status, she doesn't know how to run a business, and she is being watched by the family.

We need someone—a professional, clean manager who can preferably take the fall for us."

"Exactly." Chen Mo drew a big question mark next to the number. "We need a white glove."

"Do you have a suitable candidate?" George asked.

"People like that aren't easy to find. If they are too smart, they might bite back; if they are too stupid, they can't get things done.

Furthermore, he must have enough credibility in the financial circle, or… enough ability."

Chen Mo turned to look at George, a mysterious smile on his face.

"Credibility? No, George, we aren't looking for that kind of banker in a suit and tie.

We are looking for the dregs that have been chewed up and spat out by this system.

Because only such people will have enough hatred to bite the throat of this system."

Chen Mo sat back down at the computer, his hands hovering over the keyboard.

"System, activate [Hacking Mastery]."

As a blue light only he could see flashed by, countless data streams poured down like a waterfall deep within Chen Mo's pupils.

"Let's go dig for gold in the trash heap of Wall Street."