Chapter 98: The Little Matter of My Father Actually Being a Secret Big Shot, Part 8

Qin Ye knew full well that Qin Yancheng would be fine, but he had to appear anxious. He never imagined that Qin Yancheng’s leg, already broken in advance, could still be struck again.

“Brother is fine,” whispered the AI assistant in his earpiece. “He hit a rock while dodging and is temporarily unconscious.”

Qin Ye gave a barely audible hum, maintaining a facade of worry. A colleague who had stepped aside to make a call soon returned. “Let’s go. A car is ready outside.”

Everyone knew the AI assistant was created by Qin Ye, an undisputed expert in artificial intelligence. Though he claimed his success was mere luck, his involvement had saved them from going down the wrong path. Even though Qin Ye said AI was just a hobby, his true passion was mecha research, and he had once tried to transfer to that department.

He openly admitted his motives: the AI was designed simply to give himself an edge in real life. All of this had been spurred by Mr. Tan Jian’s provocation. Insiders once remarked that the project's leader privately praised Mr. Tan’s stimulation as effective. Of course, these were just unverified rumors.

In any case, Qin Ye’s importance was unquestioned. His information was classified top secret, and family members were covertly assigned to protect him. The same applied to Qin Yancheng, but since the incident happened suddenly in a remote area, the protection detail had to keep some distance. Unfortunately, it was this slight gap that led to the accident.

Meanwhile, the white-haired man, smug and curling his lips in anticipation of Tan Yuanyuan’s arrival to help falsify evidence, was suddenly tackled from nowhere and punched until stars flashed before his eyes. Before he could utter a word, his hands were twisted behind his back and shackled with a click.

The white-haired man was stunned.

The official agent assigned to protect the target cursed inwardly. Just a moment’s oversight, and the protected person got injured. “You, the outlaw brazenly acting under the broad daylight, huh?”

He nearly ground his teeth in frustration but restrained himself from using excessive force on the white-haired man—only slightly rougher than necessary to subdue him.

At the same time, several vehicles roared off, swiftly encircling the scene. No one would escape before the investigation concluded.

Qin Ye arrived quickly, just as Qin Yancheng stirred from his brief unconsciousness. Surrounded by officials in black uniforms, Qin Yancheng was placed aside, attended by several doctors monitoring his condition.

“I… have I transmigrated?” Qin Yancheng thought, bewildered. “In this life, I’m the son of a top-tier tycoon, with an entire medical team on call for even a single strand of hair…”

The love and fierce concern from Qin Ye had revived him.

“I’m really not here to elope with Yuanyuan,” Qin Yancheng protested.

Qin Ye was speechless. He had only wanted to confirm that Qin Yancheng was still in the living world, nothing more. But Qin Yancheng’s self-incrimination was undeniable.

Colleagues accompanying Qin Ye pretended not to hear.

Realizing what he had just blurted out, Qin Yancheng buried his head, overwhelmed by the crowd’s silent judgment.

Qin Ye patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. Life is short.”

Qin Yancheng glared. If you can’t comfort, then don’t.

Now it was worse—his heart ached even more, and he wanted to cry. His face felt like it had fallen to the ground and been trampled to pieces.

“It’s fine; they don’t know Yuanyuan is your sister. At most, they’ll think you’re caught up in some rebellious love drama, not that you’re a broken-legged orthopedic patient. Don’t take it to heart.”

Qin Yancheng lowered his head, covering his face. He was utterly mortified.

Qin Ye shook his head, thinking this kid was still too socially anxious.

After a quick check confirmed that Qin Yancheng’s broken leg hadn’t been further injured and his limp wouldn’t worsen, Qin Ye left him be.

Before Qin Ye could leave, a colleague, already gray-haired yet still working at the research forefront, pulled him back to the lab.

“Well, the kid’s seen and confirmed safe. Time to get back to work.”

The speed was so swift that Qin Yancheng, who had only just been talking to his father, was left bewildered, wondering if it had all been a hallucination.

He was then taken for detailed examinations. Although Qin Ye had confirmed no major issues, the officials insisted on hospital tests to be sure. They couldn’t afford any oversight that might lead to paralysis or worse.

As confused as Qin Yancheng was, so was the white-haired man.

For the first time in his life, he found himself fully restrained, surrounded by a convoy of guards and special forces vehicles, seated alone in the prime car.

Had his crimes abroad caught up to him?

No, zero tolerance for crime at home was true, but this scale of operation seemed excessive. He hadn’t massacred a city or a village—he’d just joined a group of twisted youths who used people as obstacles for reckless games. Surely that didn’t warrant such high-profile capture.

He had to stay calm. If it was his problem, his allies would come to protect him. Unless they never intended to return to the country.

If it wasn’t, it might be family-related. But modern society didn’t practice collective punishment. As long as he was uninformed, he’d be released.

Still, he felt pain all over—his head, nose, face, even his shackled hands and feet. He shouted for a doctor, but no one responded.

As the officials sealed off their private vacation estate, he watched companions being handcuffed and taken away one by one—except him, who enjoyed solitary luxury.

Among them was Meng Yuan. Seeing Meng’s obvious impatience yet forced compliance eased the white-haired man’s panic somewhat.

If Meng Yuan was involved, surely the Meng family wouldn’t stand idly by. If they intervened, he’d feel safer.

He dreamed such a hopeful thought, but reality was far from it.

He had considered all possibilities except the truth: that this massive operation was triggered solely by his impulsive whim to target Qin Yancheng as prey.

He never once thought about the person he maliciously rammed into. To him, they were insignificant, unimportant.

Besides, he had experience; the victim wouldn’t die, at worst be injured.

He wouldn’t kill anyone in his homeland. After all, he was a scoundrel and a pervert who disregarded others’ lives, but he cherished his own. He had no desire to die or leave this beautiful world to visit the afterlife.

As long as the victim was merely hurt or crippled, with Tan Yuanyuan willing to testify, a bribe would settle everything.

So, no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t understand what he had done wrong.

Even psychological punishment was almost unbearable. Clearly, he had overestimated his mental endurance.

He half-confessed to joining a perverted club and selecting victims with them. Interrogators treated him like a spy, expecting steadfast will, so they initially withheld questioning to wear him down.

Instead, he inadvertently revealed more.

Well, whatever other motives he might have had, those were now impossible.

Online, the AI assistant’s blockade meant foreign countries were completely unaware of domestic breakthroughs in this field.

As for leaks, insiders and researchers were closely monitored by the AI under the leader’s orders.

Although the AI had its limitations—it couldn’t evolve endlessly through network learning like the villainous AIs in sci-fi—it still overwhelmed current hackers with its advanced capabilities.

Once hackers found the real person, they could cut internet and power to punish them. The AI assistant was different: it had countless copies and backups scattered everywhere.

Physically destroying it was currently only possible by Qin Ye.

Qin Ye’s ability stemmed not only from creating the AI—a heavily restricted version crafted by his protégé—but also because he was a swordsman, a respected figure in his field.

Though not particularly refined, their kind of expert lacked the usual air of grandeur. So it was hardly surprising.

After being handed over to the state, the AI voluntarily left behind a self-sanctioning method, entrusting it to officials for safekeeping—just in case.

The AI believed that at least while its father lived, and probably while its brother and sister were around, no accidents would occur.

The white-haired man revealed all the club members—around five or six—mostly second-generation elites, both male and female.

Those without perversions wouldn’t have fallen in with such a group.

Moreover, the perverts observed targets carefully; they wouldn’t drag in a righteous, upright comrade who radiated the light of justice only to corrupt them.

That was simply out of the question.