CHAPTER 468: CHAPTER 280 COOPERATION_2

"Just this?"

Dean released Ross’s collar.

This is a good thing, isn’t it?

The connections of a girlfriend’s mother are essentially your own connections, right?

Ross, seeing Dean’s indifference, pouted. "Dean, Niel’s mother has a terrible temper. I suspect she only gave you her business card to test your honesty."

Pfft!

Dean responded with a middle finger.

Naive Ross should worry more about himself.

That being said, remembering the last time he saw Niel’s mother, Dean pragmatically decided not to ask Ross for that Paradise Island business card.

Ross had originally wanted to tell Dean about his chance encounter with Niel in Los Angeles.

Seeing Dean act so cocky, Ross, annoyed, began to drink moodily.

He was looking forward to seeing Dean in a messy love-triangle situation.

Lost in thought, clueless Ross started laughing foolishly to himself.

The phrase "the landlord’s idiot son" must be describing someone like Ross.

Seeing Ross’s foolish expression, Dean felt more convinced about his earlier thoughts.

So, after a few drinks, Dean put an arm around Ross’s shoulder. "Buddy, tell me the truth, I never thought you’d be ready to get married so soon."

The previously cheerful Ross, upon hearing this, suddenly lost all his Spirit.

With a dejected expression, he said, "I don’t want to either. On one hand, I have no career of my own. On the other, I can’t contribute to the family. My greatest value is to continue the family line. I don’t have a choice."

No sooner had he said that, Ross seemed to feel he had lost face in front of his friend and added defensively, "But Gaia is quite nice, and that’s a sort of blessing."

"Do you want to stay like this forever?"

Dean, somewhat disappointed, released his arm from Ross’s shoulder, stood up, and leaned on the edge of the balcony, looking down at the now slightly intoxicated Ross.

"Think about it, buddy. What will you say when your child grows up and asks you:

’Oh, Dad, why do we always sit at the back at family gatherings, and why do those cousins look down on me?’

Tsk, think about it, Ross, my good brother, how are you going to answer your child!"

Ross fell silent.

He picked up his drink, GULPED it down, wiped his mouth, and said with some confusion, "Dean, to be honest, I’ve thought about these things before, but what can I do?"

For an ordinary family, having a child at a prestigious university is a matter of pride.

For a middle-class family, having a child in a commendable profession is a matter of pride.

For a wealthy family, having a child who can stand on their own is a matter of pride.

For his family...

To be honest, Ross felt that as long as he wasn’t bullied outside, could take shelter when it rained, and eat when it was time, his old man would be content. As for status...

He had been a son for decades.

How could he not know his own worth?

Dean sensed the aura of defeat emanating from Ross.

He sat back down next to Ross and knocked on the table. "Now, I have a business plan that could bring in tens of billions of US Dollars a year. I’m in need of a trustworthy partner with connections, and then I met you. Want in?"

"Huh?" Ross asked.

He picked up the bottle and checked the alcohol content. "Dean, you never said your alcohol tolerance was this bad."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Since you don’t believe me, then forget it. I can always ask Niel for help just the same."

Seeing he wasn’t joking, Ross put down his glass, rubbed his burning red cheeks, and said, "Alright, if you’re serious, then count me in!"

"Don’t you want to hear the plan?"

Ross shook his head. "I trust my friends, but I’m just a nobody in my family. I’m afraid I can only offer financial support."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Ross agreed.

The plan he spoke of was actually centered around the ’Brother Wei’ formula he had acquired from Little Mike.

His experience in Los Angeles, where he had been unjustly targeted, made Dean realize that if he wanted to get ahead and stop enduring such treatment, he had to find ways to enhance his strength outside of official channels.

Capital itself is a manifestation of power.

The ’Brother Wei’ formula obtained from Little Mike was Dean’s trump card.

In the instance world, Dean had already witnessed its practicality and appeal.

He had money, the formula, and a talented individual like Little Mike. Niel could help with management, and Ross’s surname could deter potential predators in the early stages.

The three of them working together might just become a force in the world of capital.

Of course, the journey of any drug from production to sale was never that simple.

Dean was just making preparations a few years in advance.

All of this would have to wait until Niel finished her own business before they could start operating...

At this moment, Dean was unaware that Niel, who was yearning for him, had already quietly gone to Los Angeles to find him.

After sending Ross away, Dean took a cold shower and summoned Cheston En to learn about the Las Vegas Police Department’s search and excavation progress at the home of the serial body-dumping perpetrator and the underground detention space.

This case involved a certain plan of the Lucifer Game Organization.

Dean needed to know the follow-up situation.

Cheston En’s expression was grim. "Agent Dean, the Las Vegas Police Department hasn’t found anything special. But when I reported the case information to the FBI system, the case was sealed!"

"The case got sealed?" Dean was taken aback. "What does that mean?"

He had handed over all the follow-up work on the case to Cheston En, so he really didn’t know there had been a complication.

Cheston En shook his head. "I’m sorry, this is the first time I’ve encountered something like this. Usually, the personnel who handle this kind of case approval belong to exclusive departments within the FBI. We field agents simply don’t have access to these people."

"Then why didn’t you tell me right away?"

Dean looked at Cheston En with a scrutinizing gaze.

Cheston En looked down. "Agent Dean, I sent the follow-up processing email and was planning to report this matter after receiving a reply from headquarters..."

Dean watched Cheston En for several seconds, his previously stern face slowly returning to a smile. "Okay then, I was just asking casually. You must be exhausted these last few days. Go back and rest well."

"What about our next steps?"

Only then did Cheston En dare to raise his head and look at Dean.

Dean waved his hand. "Rest for a few days first, and then we’ll consider which case to investigate next."

"Yes, Agent Dean."

Cheston En briskly left the room.

Watching the door close again, Dean’s eyes grew deep, and he silently lit a cigarette.

He sensed that Cheston En’s mood was somewhat off.

But the FBI headquarters’ decision to seal the case likely had nothing to do with Cheston En.

Cheston En had only followed his orders, uploading everything discovered in this case—the process, clues, photos, case reports, and so on.

This guy couldn’t influence FBI headquarters.

In that case, the feedback from headquarters was very interesting.

Sealing meant Dean and his team had lost the right to investigate the case further; the case was completely closed.

Surrounded by smoke, a smile touched Dean’s lips.

Was it because the information Cheston En uploaded to headquarters exposed certain details?

If so...

Interesting, very interesting!

Dean wasn’t ready to clash head-on with the Lucifer Organization yet.

In that case, this case would be put on hold here for now.

Outside the room.

After Cheston En left Dean’s room, his previously rigid posture sagged, and he quickly leaned against the nearby wall for support.

For some reason, under Dean’s gaze, he felt as if he were being watched by a savage American Leopard or targeted by an eagle soaring high above, its eyes piercing right through all the secrets hidden in his heart.

A cold breeze blew through the corridor. A chill ran up his spine.

Cheston En shuddered, only then realizing that his back was drenched with sweat.

He let out a frustrated sigh and rested for a good while before returning to his room. He sat at the desk in the dimly lit room, rapidly typing on the keyboard, reviewing the photos and reports he had submitted.

The mouse wheel spun.

The computer pages scrolled, finally stopping on a close-up of a peculiar iron door.

Cheston En’s eyes were fixed on the photograph.

In the photo, dense, thumb-thick steel bars formed the main body of the door. The ends of all these bars were embedded near the area where a normal door’s lock would be, creating something that resembled a beehive but without a visible keyhole—a ’lock’.

And above this twisted, beehive-like lock, the converging lines of the steel bars formed a distinctive triangular eye symbol.

This symbol!

Cheston En’s eyes became bloodshot, veins pulsing, as he clenched his fists.

After all these years. He had finally seen this pattern again!

The unbearable memories of his childhood surged into his mind.

The light in Cheston En’s room didn’t go out until the sky was dotted with stars.