118: Chapter 118 Uncle Chen sent people to pick the peaches?

The air in the office seemed to instantly solidify into tangible ice crystals.

The previously languid, ambiguous, and hormone-filled atmosphere vanished instantly, like a thin sheet of paper scorched by a raging fire.

Chen Yuan sat in his executive chair.

The cigar he had just clipped remained unlit, turning unconsciously between his fingers.

His pitch-black eyes were half-closed, gazing through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows at the steel forest of Manhattan that lay beneath his feet.

"The... supreme directive of the family?" Chen Yuan repeated the words.

His tone was very light, so light it sounded like he was reciting an absurd line, yet the mocking curve of his lips slowly widened, eventually turning into a chilling, hair-raising sneer.

"Victor." Chen Yuan tossed the cigar onto the table with a crisp "clack."

"Are you sure they are in their right minds?"

Victor stood at the doorway, his expression a complex mix of emotions. There was embarrassment, anger, and even a sense of helplessness, as if he were pitying the other party's lack of intelligence.

"Boss, I also wish they were drunk or had just escaped from a mental asylum."

Victor wiped the sweat from his forehead, pulled a gold-stamped letter from his pocket, and handed it over with both hands.

"But unfortunately, they look... very sober, and very serious."

"This is the 'calling card' they forced onto the receptionist."

"They said that according to Chinese custom, when a big shot pays a visit, they must first present a calling card. If we don't understand the rules, then we are... forgetting our roots."

Chen Yuan took the letter. The envelope was made of vintage rice paper, and it even bore the century-old vermilion seal of the Jinghai Chen Family.

Seeing something like this in New York, at the very pinnacle of Wall Street, was like seeing a zombie in a traditional robe among a group of people wearing spacesuits. The dissonance was off the charts.

Chen Yuan did not open the envelope. He just held it between two fingers, as if he were holding a piece of toilet paper that had been used to wipe his ass.

"Read it to me." Chen Yuan tossed the envelope back to Victor, "I'm afraid of dirtying my hands."

Victor caught it in a fluster, tore open the seal, and pulled out the letter. He cleared his throat, trying to imitate that pretentious tone, but the result sounded ridiculous.

"Ahem... To be opened personally by Chen Yuan, the abandoned third-generation son of the Chen Family." As soon as he read the first sentence, Victor's brows furrowed into a deep frown.

He stole a glance at Chen Yuan's expression. The boss was expressionless, even pouring himself a drink.

Victor gritted his teeth and continued reading: "Considering you carry the blood of the Chen Family, although your actions are perverse, your methods are ruthless, and you have brought shame to the family reputation, the Council of Elders has decided to grant you a favor, given your modest business talent, and allow you to redeem yourself."

"Effective immediately, hand over sixty percent of the equity in the Umbrella company, as well as the complete formulas and technology for 'youth no. 1,' to be managed by the family."

"Additionally, the real estate and land you have purchased in New York must be immediately transferred to the Chen Family's public account, to serve as the cornerstone for the family's overseas expansion."

"If you can turn back from your misguided path and turn everything over, the family can reserve a spot for you beside the ancestral graves in Jinghai."

"If not..." Victor couldn't continue reading. He felt that what he was holding wasn't a letter, but a diagnosis report for a mental patient.

What was in these people's heads? Were they wrapped in foot-binding cloths from the Qing Dynasty?

Sixty percent equity? Complete formulas? And they wanted him to transfer this ten-billion-dollar Titan Center to them? And they even called this a "favor"?

"And if not, what then?" Chen Yuan's voice rang out eerily, devoid of joy or anger.

Victor swallowed hard and, bracing himself, read the last sentence: "...If not, you will be struck from the family genealogy, forbidden from entering the Chen Family ancestral grave after death, and cursed for all eternity!"

"Pfft." Chen Yuan finally couldn't help but laugh. He raised his red wine glass, swirling it gently, the crimson liquid leaving blood-like trails on the glass walls.

"Struck from the genealogy? Forbidden from entering the ancestral grave after death?" Chen Yuan stood up, walked over to Victor, and took the letter from his hand.

"Rip—" He slowly and methodically tore the letter into two, then four, then eight... until it finally turned into a pile of waste paper scraps, fluttering down onto the carpet.

"Do they really think that my greatest dream in this life is to be buried in their dilapidated grave pile after I die?"

"Do they really think that I fought with my life to build this empire just to go back and be a fawning dog for them?"

Chen Yuan's laughter grew louder, echoing through the empty office. But there was not a shred of warmth in that laughter. Only endless cold and a killing intent capable of freezing the soul.

"Boss, these people are just here to reap the rewards," Victor said indignantly. "They saw you made a fortune abroad and got jealous. They threw you out like trash before, but now that they see you've become gold, they want to use this so-called 'family righteousness' to suppress you."

"This behavior is even uglier than Mexican bandits!"

"Bandits?" Chen Yuan shook his head, a trace of contempt flashing in his eyes. "Don't insult bandits. At least bandits have to carry guns and risk their lives to rob people."

"These people don't even dare to carry a gun; they just want to rely on their mouths and that laughable blood relationship to take everything I have."

"This isn't called being a bandit. This is called... begging. And specifically, the kind of beggars who wear silk and satin but reek of filth."

Chen Yuan walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked at the crowd below, who appeared like ants. Right there on the bustling street, a few Chinese people wearing Tang suits and looking arrogant were standing at the entrance of the building, pointing fingers at the security guards.

The leader was probably in his early twenties, with a slicked-back hairstyle and an insufferably arrogant expression. That was Chen Yu. The precious son of his stepmother, Zhao Ya, and the nominal eldest grandson of the Chen Family. He was also the vanguard of this "peach-picking" operation.

"That leader, that's my 'good cousin,' right?" Chen Yuan pointed to the figure below who looked like a clown.

"Yes, Boss." Victor glanced at the surveillance monitor. "He has been cursing downstairs for half an hour. He says this building belongs to his family, that the security guards are just guard dogs, and if they don't let him up, he'll fire them all."

"Tsk tsk." Chen Yuan sighed. "He's certainly full of energy."

"Since they are family, how can we let them stand in the sun downstairs?" He turned around and adjusted his tie, which wasn't even messy. The smile on his face was as gentle as a hospitable host. But those who knew him well knew that this was the precursor to a tyrant about to taste blood.

"Victor." "Yes." "Let them come up."

Chen Yuan sat back in his executive chair, crossed his legs, and assumed his most comfortable and arrogant posture.

"Also, notify Alice. Bring up those 'little pets' from the laboratory that just finished surgery. I think, since it's a family reunion, there should be some special entertainment to liven things up."

Victor froze for a moment, then felt his scalp tingle. Little pets? Could the boss be referring to those... modified Zombie Dogs that had been starved for three days?

"Boss, do you mean to..." "I want to see." Chen Yuan interrupted him, a nearly perverted anticipation flashing in his eyes.

He took an exquisite scalpel from the drawer and spun it flexibly between his fingers, the blade reflecting a cold light.

"I want to see if this bunch of self-proclaimed noble Chen Family members—when facing true fear—really have skin thicker than bulletproof vests."

"Go." Chen Yuan waved his hand. "Open the door. Don't keep our 'honored guests' waiting."