America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

"The whistleblower used a disposable prepaid phone, and his voice was altered with a voice changer. He provided the police with the exact location and time, claiming that a gang was conducting illegal transactions..."

Chen Ming stared at the sticky note, his brain working at a rapid pace.

"That eliminates the possibility that a passerby happened to call the police, and even eliminates the possibility of gang infighting—if it were a case of gangsters killing each other, they would send a gunman to rob the money instead of calling the police."

He stood up and paced back and forth in the living room.

"The whistleblower was well aware that Evans and Scarface had a deal tonight, and his position was very delicate."

"He's not on Evans' side, because if the police come, the professor is finished; he's not on Scarface's side either, because gangsters are unlikely to call the police on their own initiative."

"He doesn't want to see peace talks between the two sides; what he wants is... exposure?"

Chen Ming suddenly turned around, looked at Sean, and blurted out.

"Could it be that female reporter named Michelle?"

"Evans said that she didn't have enough evidence and that normal reporting would easily be purged by public relations."

"But if the police catch a medical school professor in the act of making a cash deal with a gang, that's not just gossip, it's headline news with irrefutable evidence."

"That makes sense." Sean put down his cup and nodded, then his expression became playful.

"To provoke both a prestigious university and a gang for a headline... that's ruthless enough."

"I've been in Hollywood for so long, I know these kinds of people all too well... For these Pulitzer Prize-hungry hyenas, the thrill of digging for the truth is stronger than heroin. They'll stake out your trash can for three days and three nights for a headline."

"The most troublesome thing is that their perseverance is far stronger than that of the police; once they take hold, they won't let go."

"We can't even use the same tactics we used last night on her."

Chen Ming scratched his hair in frustration.

Dealing with scum like Scarface is like dumping a bag of garbage that nobody cares about. If someone goes missing, the police don't care at all; they might even thank the police for saving taxpayers' money...

But Michelle, a serious journalist, is different.

She has newspapers, unions, and a whole bunch of colleagues who are also waiting to make headlines. If she disappears during the investigation, the entire Los Angeles press will take notice.

"That's right, whether it's intimidation or trying to shut her up, the risks are too high. We need to use some more civilized methods... to get her to give up on her own." Sean held up two fingers.

"Since physical elimination is not possible, then social elimination will be employed."

"You mean digging up dirt on her?" Chen Ming raised an eyebrow.

"I guess so... Everyone has weaknesses, and even if they don't, we can still 'poison' her."

"The first tactic is called 'fake medicine'—since she wants the truth, we'll give her the truth, a shocking, exclusive scoop, so shocking she can't handle it."

"Fake news?" Chen Ming realized instantly.

"That's right. For example, Professor Evans wasn't actually dealing in corpses; he was secretly developing genetic weapons for the CIA..."

Sean spread his hands, grinning like a devil.

"As long as the story is convincing enough, the details are believable enough, and a few top-secret documents are deliberately leaked to her, once she publishes this story in the newspaper, she's doomed, branded as a madwoman maliciously spreading conspiracy theories..."

"Sounds pretty good." Chen Ming nodded.

"The second tactic is even simpler—have Evans contact the most notorious law firm in Los Angeles and sue her and the newspaper for defamation and infringement of reputation, seeking $500,000 in damages."

"Although she's unlikely to win this kind of lawsuit in the end, the lengthy litigation process and legal fees might make her reconsider the cost of the investigation..."

"Of course, all of this is predicated on us first understanding what kind of person she is." Sean pointed at Chen Ming.

"We can't just guess. We need to see her, or even take the initiative to invite her out for a chat... But I'm also a subject of frequent scrutiny in the journalism circle, so only you can handle this."

"Okay, what's the contact information?" Chen Ming asked again.

"Just give me two days. I have a few friends who are private investigators who make a living by selling celebrity privacy. Getting a reporter's private phone number and home address is easier for them than ordering takeout."

……

Two days passed quickly.

Chen Ming was idly trying to turn the apartment kitchen, which Sophia had ruined, back into a place where he could cook when the phone rang.

The caller was a "plastic surgeon".

"The fish has taken the bait."

As soon as the call connected, Sean's voice came through, accompanied by the roar of a sports car engine in the background.

"And they were really persistent, even more so than those obscure actresses I'm looking for sugar daddies in nightclubs."

"You contacted her directly?"

"Of course not, that would be too low-class and would easily arouse suspicion."

Sean chuckled softly.

"I found a middleman—an informant from a tabloid—and had him call the Los Angeles Times' whistleblower hotline."

"The script is simple: a Chinese student who once worked as Professor Evans's assistant has accidentally discovered some of the professor's secrets and is now suffering from a guilty conscience, unable to sleep at night, and desperately needs a righteous media person to confide in him..."

"A student who had a change of heart?"

Chen Ming was somewhat bewildered.

"Isn't this script a bit too Hollywood?"

"Only Hollywood stories can be believed... For journalists, this kind of persona is like a Christmas present," Sean said confidently.

"Okay...time and place." Chen Ming stopped wasting time.

"3 p.m., Intellectuals Cafe in Silver Lake District."

"Also, I suggest you dress up a bit. This Michelle is a widow in her early thirties, the age when hormones are at their peak, while you are decent in both looks and figure."

"Believe me, when negotiating with women, looks and demeanor can help you a lot."

"From what you're saying, should I skip the coffee session and go straight to her bed to talk?"

Chen Ming rolled his eyes at his phone.

"If you really have that ability, that would be wonderful."

Sean on the other end of the phone didn't detect any sarcasm; instead, his tone became even more serious.

"Whispers in your pillow are a more effective way to gather information than a lie detector—and it can even save you the cost of two lattes, so why not?"

"If you're worried about not having enough strength, I can recommend some medicine..."

Chen Ming's face darkened, and he immediately hung up the phone.

However, although Sean's words sounded harsh, one thing was true—this meeting was crucial.

And the first impression is the deciding factor in the initial meeting.

Chen Ming walked to the wardrobe, pushed aside the cheap hoodie and jeans, and took out his long-forgotten formal attire.