CHAPTER 98: CHAPTER 99: BENEATH CALM WATERS – SEEDS OF THE NEXT STORM

The early morning silence inside Lin Feng’s Jiangnan villa was deceptive.

Sunlight streamed through the tall glass panels, throwing golden warmth across the polished marble floors and soft fabric of the minimalist furnishings. On the surface, it was a serene start to a peaceful day. But Lin Feng’s eyes, fixed on the data projections hovering before him, were sharp and cold. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the armrest of his chair as lines of internal performance reports, audit breakdowns, and encrypted messages flickered across the holographic display.

Something didn’t match.

The recent dip in performance metrics from three subsidiary logistics vendors wasn’t dramatic enough to draw external attention, but to Lin Feng’s practiced eye, it had all the signs of embedded interference—slightly delayed shipments, bloated costs from rerouted deliveries, and a sudden uptick in supposedly "weather-related" disruptions. The most telling? All three vendors had, until recently, been part of Crimson Loop’s extended supply network before its hostile restructuring.

He turned to Qi Zhen, standing beside him with her tablet clutched to her chest. "Confirm something for me. Were any of these vendors blacklisted by us after the Crimson Loop resolution?"

Qi Zhen nodded. "Yes. All three failed post-acquisition audits and were flagged for risk. But then—"

"They reappeared under new shell names," Lin Feng finished grimly. "Someone’s feeding them contracts again. From the inside."

Qi Zhen hesitated, then said, "I’ve been compiling a list of internal project managers involved in those reactivations. No direct links yet. But it looks... coordinated."

Lin Feng stood and walked over to the window, his posture deceptively relaxed as he looked out over the garden where a pair of koi swam slowly under the lily pads.

"We’ve gained momentum too fast. This kind of pushback was inevitable."

His mind worked quickly. There were multiple layers here—economic sabotage, reputational landmines, and potential corruption within the ranks. He couldn’t afford complacency. Especially not now, when public sentiment was finally stabilizing in his favor after the Spectron revelation.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Mei Yuxia entered, dressed in a sharp navy pantsuit that made her look every inch the media director she had become.

"There’s movement on the Zixuan front," she said without preamble. "His people just secured a PR contract with UrbanPulse—our former media partner."

Lin Feng’s gaze narrowed. "The same UrbanPulse that called for our boycott two weeks ago?"

"Yes," Mei Yuxia replied. "They’re relaunching a docu-series. Guess who the opening feature is on?"

"Zixuan," Lin Feng murmured.

"They’re calling it ’The Visionary Elite’. All soft-glove features. High production value. Influence building," she said. "It’s a charm offensive."

"He’s trying to overwrite the narrative we’ve built."

"Exactly. And the fact that UrbanPulse turned after we terminated that internal ad contract suggests they were waiting for a better offer. One they got—probably funneled through one of Zixuan’s proxies."

Lin Feng didn’t respond immediately. He turned away from the window and picked up a secure tablet from the table.

"Pull our advertising strategy from the last 60 days. Cross-reference against outlets that recently changed editorial stance. I want a map of compromised platforms."

Mei Yuxia nodded and left without needing further instruction.

Lin Feng turned to Qi Zhen. "And find out who authorized vendor reinstatement under those fake shell companies. Go two layers deep—past the project leads. Someone’s protecting them."

---

By late afternoon, Lin Feng’s day was a blur of closed-door strategy meetings, encrypted communication with Fang Qinghe’s new legal task force, and private consultations with Duanmu Rong, who had begun forming a discreet internal compliance unit under Lin Feng’s directive.

The unit’s purpose was simple: eliminate internal rot before it spread.

"The timing of this internal sabotage isn’t random," Duanmu Rong said as she reviewed documents on a shared screen. "It started days after we pushed through the Apex Circle partnership framework."

"You think someone inside sees Apex as a threat to their own position?"

"Or they’re being paid to act like they do."

She glanced at him. "Power is shifting fast. The ones who built their influence on gatekeeping are feeling exposed. A few well-timed failures would damage your image just enough to slow you down."

"Which gives Zixuan breathing room," Lin Feng said, connecting the dots.

"And distracts you from whatever move he’s preparing next."

Lin Feng sat back in his chair. The realization clicked into place.

This wasn’t just sabotage—it was the first part of Zixuan’s new campaign.

A soft chime announced a secure message from Gu Yuwei. Lin Feng opened it instantly.

Got something. Private. In-person only. Tonight.

Bring no one.

That was unusual. Even for her.

---

Later that night, Lin Feng met Gu Yuwei in a discreet lounge nestled behind a high-end hotel bar. She wore a simple black dress and no jewelry, her makeup lighter than usual—practical, sharp. Her expression told him this wasn’t a social visit.

"What did you find?" he asked.

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she slid over a single flash drive. "Encrypted. But I verified enough to know it’s legit. Internal files from Spectron’s media arm—leaked before the servers were wiped."

Lin Feng inserted the drive into a pocket decryptor. A series of documents opened, revealing financial transfers, content plans, and communication trails between Spectron’s dummy media firms and several "independent" commentators—many of whom had recently launched attacks on Lin Feng.

"They used subcontracted firms to fund anti-Lin narratives," Gu Yuwei said. "Not just articles. Bot campaigns. Fabricated ’scandals.’ At least three of those accounts got picked up by state-run aggregators."

Lin Feng scrolled through the payment records. The sums weren’t massive—but the distribution was strategic. Just enough to trigger trends, not enough to attract financial audits.

"The scary part," Gu Yuwei added, "is that it wasn’t just Spectron. These comms show a second cluster of funders starting two weeks ago."

She brought up a visual chart. The nodes glowed red.

Zixuan.

"His foundation, his biotech arm, and a think tank he ’advises’—they’re all funding the same networks Spectron used."

Lin Feng stared at the chart in silence for a long moment. Then he said quietly, "So Spectron wasn’t the end. It was the beginning."

"He’s picking up where they left off," Gu Yuwei said. "Cleaner. Smarter."

Lin Feng looked at her. "Why bring this to me in person?"

"Because I’m being watched. Two of my junior analysts got approached with vague job offers. Someone is fishing around."

Lin Feng slid the flash drive into a reinforced data pouch and nodded.

"This changes things," he said. "It’s time we stopped reacting."

She smiled faintly. "I thought you’d say that."

---

When Lin Feng returned to his villa that night, the koi pond was still. A thin mist had settled over the garden.

He stood at the edge for a moment, watching the dark water ripple faintly.

Tomorrow, he would begin quietly reshuffling key personnel. The compliance unit would expand into a shadow task force. Yuxia would prepare a counter-campaign targeting not just media—but influence ecosystems.

And Qi Zhen would trace every contract back to its source.

Zixuan wanted a proxy war of narrative erosion and internal bleeding?

So be it.

But Lin Feng had stopped being merely reactive.

He now had information, infrastructure—and most importantly, time to strike first.

As the mist thickened and the koi stirred beneath the surface, Lin Feng’s voice was low.

"Let’s see who drowns first."