A Beaten Dog's Flight

The isolated island deep in the Pacific Ocean was completely cleared out 48 hours after the agreement was signed. The luxurious furniture, artworks, and wine cellars that once symbolized wealth and seclusion, along with the documents that recorded the glory and secrets of the Walton Family, were either packed up and shipped away or burned in deep pits dug in the beach.

The flames roared in the setting sun, the ashes mingling with the acrid smell of burning cigars and leather, scattered by the sea breeze and falling into the boundless blue sea, as if to erase everything from the past.

Richard Walton himself immediately stopped all unnecessary emotional drain the moment the documents took effect and the funds were confirmed to have entered that offshore account.

Sadness, anger, humiliation, resentment... these luxurious emotions are deadly poison to someone who is turning from hunter to prey, from player to pawn. Like a highly precise instrument, he quickly switches to the only important mode: survival, and, on the basis of survival, to preserve as much of a spark of hope as possible to turn the tide.

In his study, he looked at the final destruction confirmation list handed to him by his trusted bodyguard captain (a former Delta Force member who had followed him for fifteen years) and nodded. His face was ashen, and his eyes were puffy, but the emptiness in his eyes when the agreement was signed was gone, replaced by an extremely clear-headed coldness and vigilance, as if tempered by ice water.

"Is everything cleaned up?" His voice was hoarse, but steady.

"Yes, sir. All paper documents, storage devices, including those 'souvenirs' you ordered, have been destroyed. The server's physical hard drive has been sunk into the trench at the designated coordinates. The original storage units of the island's surveillance system have also been removed," the bodyguard captain replied in a deep voice.

Where are the personnel?

"Besides our core six, the other servants, cooks, and maintenance workers have been paid triple severance pay as planned and sent to Fiji by last night's supply ship. They will sign strict confidentiality agreements. The captain is one of our men and will be watching over their departure."

Walton walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, where the ever-changing, heartbreakingly beautiful seascape stretched out before him. But his gaze wasn't on the scenery; it was directed towards the distant, unreachable continent.

"Business is like war, Jack." He suddenly spoke, as if to himself, yet also as if addressing the head of his bodyguards behind him, "What's the first rule of the battlefield?"

"Survive, sir," replied Captain Jack, the bodyguard.

"Yes, survive," Walton repeated, his voice low. "But merely surviving isn't enough. What awaits a general who has lost a battle if he merely flees back to the rear in disgrace? A court-martial? The ridicule of his colleagues? The opportunistic attacks of his political enemies? No, that would be too merciful."

He turned around, his gaze sharp as he looked at Jack: "What awaits him is the contempt of everyone, the blame for all his failures, the tearing down of all his former rivals who were once suppressed, the pushing and shoving of those who have fallen from grace, and the beating of a drowning dog."

They will squeeze every last drop of value out of him, then crush him into the mud, ensuring he never rises again. Wall Street, Seattle, Washington... those places are more naked and ruthless than a battlefield.

He knew all too well that NLG's collapse wasn't just about losing a company. It meant a huge domino that had protected him and his family had fallen, inevitably triggering a chain reaction of collapses. Bank loans would require explanations and collateral.

Those customers and suppliers who suffered heavy losses due to NLG's shutdown will file lawsuits; those in the political arena who received political donations from him and did favors for him will now want to sever ties with him, and even turn around and kick him while he's down to prove their "innocence."

His former business partners, who once called him brothers, would not hesitate to swallow up his remaining business and divide up his client list; not to mention Lin Feng, who had driven him to this predicament... Would the other party abide by the "no further action" clause in the "acquisition agreement"? Walton dared not gamble. In the face of absolute military superiority, the clause was just a piece of paper.

He had to leave. Immediately, right now. Every second he stayed in the United States increased the danger. Those vultures and hyenas had an incredibly keen sense of smell.

"Is everything settled with Brandon?" Walton asked his son, his tone devoid of warmth, more like he was dealing with an asset that had to be disposed of.

"We have made contact through the encrypted channel. As instructed, we informed him of the situation. He... is emotionally unstable, but has accepted the arrangements."

Jack replied, "The medical team will continue to care for him until he can be safely transferred. The irrevocable medical trust you established has been activated and is sufficient to cover all his future treatments and basic living expenses, but the flow of funds will be extremely confidential and will not be directly linked to any accounts in your name. He has also agreed to sever all public contact with you and use a new identity until further notice."

"Very good." Walton nodded. This was all he could do for his son. Cutting ties was the best protection for him. As for his wife? They had divorced years ago and each had their own lives, which was simpler.

Next came the choice of where to go. This was the most ruthless and rational calculation he had forced himself to make over the past seventy-two hours under extreme fatigue and pressure.

Europe: out of the question first. Switzerland, Monaco, the France Côte d'Azur? They sound like paradises for the wealthy to retire to. But for Walton today, they are sophisticated prisons. The extradition treaties between Europe and the US are close, and legal assistance between them is efficient.

If the United States. Department of Department of Justice and the SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) wanted to, they could easily use pretexts such as "suspicious fund flows" or "suspected commercial fraud" to detain and extradite him through legal procedures. It's too "civilized" and too "lawful" there, not suitable for fugitives.

Great East: This thought lingered in his mind the longest. That vast and mysterious land in the East had no extradition treaty with the United States and strong social control. As long as the method was appropriate, it would not be difficult to hide one's identity. With the funds he transferred, it would be enough to live a secluded life like an emperor in a second- or third-tier city, or even a rural area.

However... the fact that "Lin Feng is from Great East" was like a cold thorn, piercing the core of his risk assessment. He tried to learn about Lin Feng's background through his own channels, only to find a chilling blank.

Such a void often signifies a deeper, unfathomable power. He had no doubt that if he fled to Great East, Lin Feng could easily dig him out before or even after he landed. It could be the safest haven, or it could be the deadliest trap. He dared not gamble.

Japan: A society with excellent social order, outstanding public safety, and high level of development. It's a good choice for wealthy people who just want to live out their days in anonymity. But the flame of resentment in Walton's heart had not been completely extinguished.

Japan society is highly xenophobic and rigidly hierarchical, making it extremely difficult for outsiders to integrate into its true upper-class social and business circles. He had experienced this firsthand when he tried to expand into the Japan logistics market in his early years but ultimately failed.

Going to Japan meant that he would have to live a secluded life for the rest of his days, completely bidding farewell to his former connections, resources, and any possibility of a comeback. This was not in line with his personality.

South Korea: The security situation is relatively complex, with deeply entrenched connections between conglomerates, politicians, and the underworld, and rampant unspoken rules in society. However, this very complexity provides a certain degree of "room for maneuver." More importantly, he has "friends" here.

Not just ordinary friends, but Lee Byung-hun, the vice chairman of the "Seven Star Group". The two met more than ten years ago when NLG helped the "Seven Star Group" handle some "special" international logistics needs (involving gray-area cargo transportation, cross-border capital flows, etc.), establishing a "deep" mutually beneficial relationship.

Lee Byung-hun would pat him on the shoulder several times when he was drunk and flushed, and say:

"Richard, my old friend! If you ever get tired of United States, come to South Korea! I'll take care of you there! I guarantee you'll be even more comfortable than you are in United States! Together, we can make even more money!"

Walton knew Lee Byung-hun's background. The "Seven Star Group" was ostensibly a conglomerate involved in shipping, construction, and entertainment, but in reality, it had close ties with violent organizations in South Korea and operated in a gray area.

Lee Byung-hun himself is a ruthless and ambitious man. Negotiating with a tiger is dangerous. But what if this "tiger" still needs him for the time being, or more precisely, needs the funds and international channels he brings?

Going to South Korea is risky, but it also presents opportunities. He could use Lee Byung-hun's local influence as protection to slowly launder some of the transferred funds and look for investment opportunities.

He even fantasized that he might use South Korea as a springboard to return to Southeast Asia or other markets with a new identity and new capital, seeking revenge indirectly. The ambition to make a comeback gnawed at him like an addiction, ultimately overwhelming his desire for absolute security.

"It's decided," Walton said, gazing out the window as if declaring to fate, "South Korea, Seoul."

The escape route was meticulously planned, much like a spy operation.

The first step was to evacuate the island. The island's helicopters or yachts were not used (too conspicuous). That night, a modified speedboat, disguised as a deep-sea fishing vessel, docked under cover of darkness.

Walton and six trusted bodyguards, carrying a few necessities and, most importantly, bearer bonds and encrypted USB tokens, boarded the speedboat. Silence returned to the island, as if its owner had only temporarily left.

The second step involves a sea transfer. The speedboat sails on the high seas for more than ten hours before arriving at a predetermined coordinate on an international shipping lane.

There, a Gulfstream G650 private jet, registered by a Panama shell company and painted in a standard livery, was already circling overhead, waiting.

The speedboat and the plane confirmed their connection via encrypted channel. The plane landed on the deck of a disguised "civilian research vessel" (equipped with a makeshift landing platform) that had been waiting in international waters. Walton and his team quickly boarded the plane. The speedboat and the research vessel then sailed off in different directions, leaving no trace.

The third step is the Europe springboard. The flight is a direct flight to Zurich Switzerland. It is not an entry into the country, but a brief stop in the private jet area of Zurich Airport.

Walton did not disembark, but his two financial advisors (who had arrived earlier) boarded the plane, bringing several documents that urgently needed to be signed. Through the plane's secure communication equipment, they completed several complex transactions with the private bank manager in Zurich.

Some funds were transferred from highly liquid accounts to more discreet trust structures; some urgently needed cash (in various currencies) was exchanged; and several sets of brand-new, high-quality counterfeit passports and identity documents were obtained (Switzerland has an "outstanding reputation" in this regard). The entire process was completed on the runway, with the plane's engine never even turned off.

The fourth step, the final leg of the journey. Using a completely new identity (a Canadian timber merchant), the plane takes off from Zurich, makes a brief refueling stop in Almaty, and finally heads towards its destination—Incheon International Airport in Seoul, South Korea.

As the plane broke through the clouds and began to descend, revealing the winding coastline of the Korean Peninsula and the twinkling lights at the mouth of the Han River below, Walton leaned back in his large airline seat, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. The cabin was quiet, save for the low rumble of the engines. Bodyguards were scattered around, silent and vigilant.

He gazed at the increasingly clear foreign land outside the window, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

There are dangers, opportunities, unknown partners, and hidden threats. But this is the path he has chosen, a perilous path where he refuses to succumb and tries to find a glimmer of hope in a desperate situation.

The plane landed smoothly at the private terminal of Incheon Airport and connected via jet bridge.

The cabin door opened. Walton stood up, straightened his expensive custom-made suit, and tried to straighten his slightly hunched back, his face regaining its usual distant and authoritative expression. He couldn't appear looking like a defeated dog.

He stepped out of the cabin and onto the jet bridge. Then, he saw the scene on the tarmac.

More than ten black Mercedes-Benz S-Class sedans and Land Rover Range Rover were parked neatly in two convoys next to the plane.

Dozens of muscular men, all dressed in black suits and white shirts, wearing sunglasses and earpieces with air ducts, stood like javelins on both sides of the convoy, forming two black walls of men.

The grand scale and imposing presence drew the attention of passengers and ground staff from other business jet areas in the distance.

A South Korea man, around forty years old, dressed in Armani suit and with his hair neatly combed, strode up from the front of the convoy with a warm and respectful smile. He was a close confidant of Lee Byung-hun, surnamed Kim, Walton had met several times.

"President Walton! Welcome! A warm welcome to South Korea!"

Director Kim greeted him loudly in fluent English with a slight accent, bowed deeply, and adopted a very humble posture.

"Our Chairman Lee Byung-hun is unable to personally pick you up at the airport due to a very important meeting, and he is extremely apologetic! He specifically instructed me to ensure you are received with the highest honors and that there is absolutely no slighting! The Chairman said that you are his benefactor, his most respected friend and partner!"

His voice was loud and clear, deliberately making sure everyone around him could hear the words "chairman," "benefactor," and "partner."

Walton felt a slight sense of relief, but his guard remained. He nodded reservedly, extended his hand to shake hands with Director Kim, his grip firm and steady. "Director Kim, you're too kind. Chairman Lee is very busy, I understand. Thank you for the arrangements."

"Please get in!" Director Kim stepped aside and respectfully led Walton to the longest Mercedes-Benz Pullman limousine in the middle of the convoy. The door was opened by two bodyguards in black.

Walton settled into the spacious, luxurious car, with Director Kim sitting beside him. The convoy started silently, like a black Ghost, slowly pulling out of the airport and merging into Seoul dazzling yet unfamiliar traffic of Seoul's night.

The city outside the car window was ablaze with neon lights and towering skyscrapers, exuding a dense and vibrant modernity that was quite different from Seattle. Walton leaned back in the soft leather seat, watching the street scenes rushing past the window, his fingers unconsciously stroking the cuffs of his suit.

A new battlefield, or rather, a new prison, has arrived.

And he had already entered the game.