CHAPTER 97: CHAPTER 98 – LINES IN THE DUST

The early morning mist hung heavy over Zhonghai’s skyline, blurring the towering silhouettes of skyscrapers that pierced through the haze like silent sentinels. Lin Feng stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his temporary Apex Circle headquarters—an elegant, mid-rise building in the West District. A steaming cup of black tea rested untouched on the glass table behind him. His phone buzzed once, then again, and finally, he turned.

—"Apex Core logistics secured. No anomalies reported."

—"Media chatter around Qin Xue meeting is spiking—neutral to positive."

—"Lu Yuhan has confirmed the first recruitment shortlist for the ’Crimson Shadows’ sub-project."

Lin Feng quickly skimmed the push notifications as he sat down, fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the armrest. He had learned early that influence didn’t grow in straight lines—it branched, dipped, and often ran underground before erupting into visible results. But now, every branch of his influence seemed to be growing at once, each demanding attention, strategy, and caution.

Qin Xue’s introduction into the chessboard was already producing ripples. Despite her calm facade, Lin Feng had sensed layers behind her words—calculation, maybe ambition, perhaps even alignment. But allies weren’t won in one meeting, and trust was a currency far rarer than capital in the circles they now moved.

"Status on the New Dawn Tech integration?" Lin Feng asked, glancing at Xia Qingyi across the table.

Qingyi, dressed in a soft grey blazer and minimal makeup, slid a tablet toward him. "Integration phase one is nearly complete. Legal vetting passed. Tech department has access to their backend, and operations are now dual-verified. You should see synergy within a week."

Lin Feng nodded. "What about the sabotage flags? Any internal breaches?"

Qingyi hesitated, then tapped her screen. "We caught a red flag yesterday—one of our media liaisons tried to sneak manipulated feedback into our metrics dashboard. It was subtle—meant to trigger panic adjustments in our ad strategy."

Lin Feng’s eyes narrowed. "Was it external pressure or internal compromise?"

"Still investigating. But I suspect Spectron."

That name again. The ghost in Zhonghai’s backroom corridors.

Spectron Capital had gone quiet since Lin’s last maneuver, but their silence only meant recalibration. Lin Feng didn’t believe in lasting truces with entities like Spectron—only pauses in warfare.

"We remove the liaison?" he asked.

"Already done," Qingyi replied. "HR flagged them for early settlement and exit. Discreetly."

Lin Feng gave her an approving glance. "Good."

Just then, Lu Yuhan entered the room, crisp in a cream-colored suit and a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "You asked me to vet three internal candidates for Crimson Shadows," she said, placing a folder on the desk. "I added two wildcards. You’ll want to read their dossiers."

"Anyone from outside our talent pool?" Lin Feng asked, flipping the first page.

"One. You might recognize the name—Zhou Lan. She left Titan PR last year after an internal dispute."

Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. Zhou Lan was infamous in corporate reputation circles for her surgical crisis containment work. Rumor was she’d buried more scandals than Zhonghai had rainstorms.

"I thought she went into private consultation."

"She did. But after we floated our name? She called us."

Lin Feng paused. Another signal. People were starting to sense momentum around Apex Circle, and momentum attracted ambition.

"Let her meet with Qingyi. Test her on internal protocols."

"I’ll set it up," Lu Yuhan said, turning to leave.

As the room emptied, Lin Feng sat back in his chair, absorbing the flow of developments. The Crimson Circle, once a quiet symbol between a few allies, was evolving into something with gravity. Real estate, media, PR, logistics, talent acquisition—each a spoke in the expanding wheel.

But he also knew what expansion invited.

Sabotage.

His phone buzzed again. This time, a message from Lin Wei.

Lin Wei: "You should see this. Sent to our anonymous tip line."

Attached was a compressed video file and a blurred image of what looked like an office setting. Lin Feng opened it, and as it played, his expression darkened.

A man—unfamiliar but wearing a lanyard that bore the Apex Circle logo—was seen speaking on a call, whispering, "Yes, Phase Two. The funding routes are being duplicated. If done right, they’ll think the problem’s internal. Boss wants it to look like Lin Feng’s overextending."

The video cut off.

"Where was this recorded?" Lin Feng typed back quickly.

Lin Wei’s reply was curt. "Still checking. But the watermark’s from a bug planted in the East Campus—logistics hub. The mole’s inside."

Lin Feng stood up sharply.

If someone had access to internal funding routes, they were either embedded at a high level—or had help from someone who was.

He turned on his secure line and called Han Zixuan.

"Zixuan," Lin said. "We’ve got movement. I need a full Tier 3 audit. Quiet. Check every intermediary—especially finance-side logistics."

"You think it’s Spectron?"

"Could be. But something about this feels... smaller. Sloppier. Like someone rushing to impress."

Zixuan’s voice dropped to a serious tone. "Understood. I’ll prioritize internal contractors and partner firms."

As the call ended, Lin Feng looked again at the blurred image.

Not Spectron, he thought. This was someone hungrier. Someone closer.

That evening, the Apex Circle public office hosted a low-profile event: a panel on "Adaptive Innovation in Urban Tech," co-sponsored with New Dawn. It was a polite way to announce their partnership without setting off fireworks. Qin Xue had RSVP’d but hadn’t shown up—perhaps wisely. Lin didn’t trust her absence either; her move would come in her own time.

Among the guests were several influential names: Wei Cheng from CityCom; Clara Duan from TrendPulse Analytics; and, surprisingly, Tang Rui, daughter of Tang Holdings’ founder.

Tang Rui was dressed impeccably, her posture relaxed but her eyes scanning the room like a trained analyst.

Lin Feng approached her during the networking break.

"Didn’t expect to see you here," he said with a wry smile.

Tang Rui smiled back. "I could say the same. But the buzz around Apex Circle? Hard to ignore. You’re attracting all the wrong kinds of attention, you know."

"Wrong kinds make the right ones nervous," Lin replied.

Rui raised a glass of rosé. "Careful, Lin Feng. Nervous people do stupid things. And some stupid people have money and lawyers."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

She leaned in slightly. "If you need someone to clean up after the next scandal you cause, call me."

"Are you offering professional services?"

"I’m offering a favor. Consider it... payment for how you handled that investor meeting last year. I haven’t forgotten."

Lin Feng gave a faint nod. Noted.

By the time the event wrapped up, several informal partnerships had been suggested. Clara Duan proposed a private data-sharing arrangement. Wei Cheng hinted at a backdoor equity discussion.

But Lin wasn’t celebrating yet. The sabotage attempt had changed the evening’s taste for him.

Back in his apartment, Lin Feng sat at his desk long after midnight. He brought up the system interface.

[Favorability Gains: +2.1% (Lu Yuhan), +1.6% (Tang Rui), +0.4% (Qingyi)]

[Reward Calculation Pending...]

The system flickered.

[Congratulations. Tang Rui Favorability: 61%]

[You Spent: ¥820,000 in Social Investment]

[Cashback Reward: ¥41,000 transferred to System Wallet]

[Real-Life Skill Options Generated:

Business Foresight (Level 1)

Legal Evasion Tactics (Level 1)

High-Stakes Networking (Level 1)]

He glanced at the options, then chose Business Foresight.

A familiar warmth surged through his fingertips as the data imprinted in his mind. It was like memories he hadn’t lived—scenarios, outcomes, subtle market shifts he hadn’t noticed before.

Lin Feng leaned back, exhaled slowly, and whispered to the room, "Now we sharpen the knives."

He wasn’t just responding anymore.

He was declaring the next move.