Con Man, Hunters, and a Gluttonous Feast

"Hey guys! Relax, relax!"

Mike Anderson's voice, like a scalding stone suddenly thrown into ice water, carried a deliberate warmth and smoothness, instantly breaking the suffocating, icy confrontation between Lin Feng and Emma Russell.

He intervened at just the right moment, his body slightly turned to cleverly block the eye contact between the two. His movements were fluid and natural, like an experienced mediator rather than an uninvited guest.

He quickly gave Emma Russell, who was still in shock and pale, a meaningful look, and said in a very low but clear voice, "Leave it to me, honey. Don't cause trouble, let's go."

Emma Russell, feeling like she'd been granted a pardon, disregarded any semblance of celebrity decorum. With the half-support of the producer beside her (who also looked displeased but was sensible), she lowered her head, lifted her skirt, and hurriedly left through a less crowded area on the side. She didn't even dare to look back at Lin Feng, as if a ferocious beast was waiting to devour her.

Then, Mike Anderson turned around to face Lin Feng directly. His professional and enthusiastic smile hadn't diminished at all; instead, it had gained an added touch of unspoken apology and familiarity between men.

He raised the half-empty glass of amber-colored whiskey in his hand to Lin Feng, then tilted his head back and took a large gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing, as if to demonstrate his "sincerity" and "harmlessness."

"Don't bother with a minor celebrity like her, bro." Mike Anderson put down his glass, leaned forward slightly, and spoke to Lin Feng in a heartfelt tone, his voice low so that only Lin Feng, K, and Lü Yi nearby could hear him. "Emma Russell? She's just a pretty face spoiled by the spotlight and men. Besides scripts and jewelry, all she seems to care about is how to climb into a better bed."

A slightly lewd yet seemingly "frank" smile curled at the corner of his lips as he lowered his voice, as if sharing an open secret in the industry. "She's currently with Charles Horton, the big boss of Universal Pictures, you know, the old guy with a castle in Beverly Hills. Because she has connections, she's been acting like she's above everyone else lately, looking down on everyone else."

He paused, observed Lin Feng's expression (Lin Feng's face was expressionless), then leaned closer, lowered his voice, and his eyes flashed with a sense of "I understand you" alliance:

"But bro, a woman like that only gets her moment in the spotlight for a few years. Once that old lecher Horton gets tired of her, or finds a newer toy, he'll just kick her to the curb..."

He made a slightly crude but clear gesture, his face displaying the knowing, even lewd smile characteristic of men sharing "spoils of war":

"When the time comes, as long as you're still interested, just give me a shout. I'll 'arrange' things for you, and I guarantee she'll behave. You can 'teach her a lesson' or 'guide her' however you want, hmm? Let her vent her anger."

He attempted to use the promise of "sharing prey" and the implication of "standing up for someone" to downplay a public conflict involving racial discrimination and transform it into a "private feud between men about women and face," quickly drawing Lin Feng into an imagined male alliance based on "sexual resources" and the "right to revenge." This is an extremely crude but quite effective social tactic in certain circles, aiming to quickly establish a kind of low-level "trust" and "resonance."

After saying this, without waiting for Lin Feng's response, he casually pulled out an exquisite silver business card holder from the inside pocket of his Armani suit, opened it with a "snap," and pulled out a well-designed, thick business card with two fingers. The business card had a matte black background with elegant champagne gold lettering and a simple logo.

He handed the business card to Lin Feng with both hands, his smile shifting from a "sleazy ally" to the sincere enthusiasm of a "business elite": "Let me introduce you, Mike Anderson, founding partner of ' Anderson Global Capital.' We primarily focus on cross-border private equity investments, real estate funds, and some... highly profitable private wealth management projects tailored specifically for high-net-worth clients."

As he spoke, his gaze swept over K, who remained expressionless behind Lin Feng, and Lü Yi, who had just been humiliated and was now staring at him with hostility. His smile remained unchanged, and his tone was full of confidence:

"Mr. Lin's name has been making waves lately. He's truly young, promising, and full of ambition! I never imagined he'd be even younger than the rumors suggest. To make such a significant move so soon after arriving in Seattle —his future is limitless! If you encounter any good investment opportunities here, or need to manage funds or find higher-return channels, feel free to contact me! I believe there's a huge potential for collaboration between us!"

His words implied that his business "spans Silicon Valley and Asia," that he has extensive resources, and that he specializes in "high-return" areas, precisely targeting the potential itch of a "newly rich" company that has just completed a huge acquisition, has plenty of money, and may be looking for ways to channel its funds.

Then, very "sensibly," he didn't press the matter further, as if he had simply helped a friend out of a predicament and casually handed over his business card. He reached out and patted Lin Feng's arm familiarly (Lin Feng didn't flinch, but his body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment), and said with a smile, "Alright, I won't disturb you anymore. There will be plenty of beautiful women and fine wine tonight, enjoy yourself! I'll contact you later!"

After saying that, he turned around gracefully, holding his wine glass, and with light steps, re-entered the flowing crowd under the crystal chandelier, quickly disappearing behind several small groups who were chatting enthusiastically, like a drop of water flowing into a river.

Lin Feng stood there, his fingers still holding the black business card that retained the warmth of the other person's body, his gaze fixed on the direction where Mike Anderson had disappeared, his face still expressionless.

K, who had been standing silently behind him like a shadow, took a half-step forward without making a sound, getting close to Lin Feng's ear. He tilted his head slightly and said quickly in a cold, flat voice that only the two of them could hear:

"Boss, this guy is a fraud. A complete and utter fraud."

His so-called ' Anderson Global Capital,' registered in Delaware, is a typical shell company. It has no actual office address, no decent employees, and no verifiable public investment records.

The Golden Sun Intelligence Team sent an encrypted text message thirty seconds ago; the West Coast branch had already flagged him.

Mike Anderson, whose real name may not even be this, specializes in Ponzi schemes, targeting people like you—newly wealthy individuals who have acquired enormous fortunes, are unfamiliar with the complex local financial environment, and are eager for higher returns or to build 'high-end' networks; successful minority businessmen; and some information-scarce and greedy pension fund managers.

Upon hearing this, Lin Feng didn't turn around immediately. Instead, he gently rubbed his thumb across the smooth surface of the business card, as if feeling its texture. A barely perceptible smile curved his lips, and he lowered his voice as well. "Oh? Looks like I fit his target profile quite well. A fat sheep, hmm?"

K's sharp gaze swept over the well-dressed men and women in the room as he continued his report in Whisper, his tone carrying the cold, analytical edge typical of an intelligence officer. "Furthermore, based on intelligence and my observations just now, many of you here know his background."

His gaze subtly swept over the Glasses producer who had just helped Emma Russell out of a predicament and was now chatting and laughing with another producer; it swept over a middle-aged man in a custom-made suit who was talking quietly with a local small bank manager not far away; and even, out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at two esteemed guests who were smiling and exchanging pleasantries with the organizers at the edge of the banquet hall.

"Including the producer who just helped the actress escape, Richardson (a locally well-known real estate broker who also deals in grey market funds) who was talking to the manager of ' First Union Bank ' over there, and even... possibly one or two of the core organizers or important sponsors of this banquet." K's voice lowered, carrying a hint of coldness, "They not only know, but sometimes they tacitly approve, and even secretly encourage it."

Lin Feng finally turned his head slightly to look at K, his eyes questioning.

K nodded slightly and continued explaining, his speech steady and clear, as if stating a long-standing mathematical theorem:

"They would occasionally 'bump into' Mike Anderson at 'appropriate' occasions, engage in friendly conversations, and even publicly praise his 'discerning eye' and 'enticing projects'; they would allow him to appear at such events, using the atmosphere and the crowd to endorse him; sometimes, they would even 'introduce' him to some insignificant but ambitious figures from the periphery of their own circles. All of this was to increase the credibility of Mike Anderson's scam, gilding his carefully crafted story with a layer of 'high-society approval'."

"The reason is simple," K's gaze swept coldly across the room again. The scene of laughter and clinking glasses seemed to transform into another dog-eat-dog ecosystem in his eyes. "In this harvesting game called a 'Ponzi scheme,' a conman like Mike Anderson is nothing more than a disposable tool, or rather, bait to lure prey and a harvesting machine."

"He lured 'fish' (investors) with promises of high returns and carefully crafted stories, pooling funds together. In this process, those 'informed' and influential individuals, through tacit approval and limited 'support,' helped him expand his fishpond and attract even fatter fish."

"But of the huge sums of money amassed by the scam, only a small portion actually ended up in Mike Anderson's pocket, giving him the opportunity to abscond with the money. And he had to be prepared to disappear immediately on the eve of the collapse or when a certain critical point was reached."

"The bulk of the funds, the huge sums of cash continuously poured in under the guise of 'investment funds,' will eventually flow through complex multi-layered transfers into certain specific offshore bank accounts with 'special backgrounds,' or into 'white glove' funds closely connected with certain local forces."

K's voice was as cold as the Siberia wind. "Once the scam reaches the point where it's time to close in, or the funds raised are large enough to attract unnecessary attention, these 'background' forces will kick in."

The relevant banks or financial institutions will, under the pretext of "anti-money laundering investigation," "suspected fraudulent transactions," or "suspicious source of funds," legally freeze or seize this massive pool of funds. They will then issue a statement. "The mastermind Mike Anderson, has absconded with the money and his whereabouts are unknown; recovering the funds is extremely difficult."

"Next," K paused, making sure Lin Feng heard every word that followed.

"It is time for those vested interests who were 'in the know' and 'provided convenience' to sit down and share this feast."

Through pre-planned, legal and compliant financial operations, debt transfers, asset acquisitions, or takeovers by "bona fide third parties," they divided up these "frozen" and unclaimed huge sums of "stolen money" within the legal framework.

Legal fees, auditing fees, asset management fees, commissions for successful recovery... the list goes on and on, but they all ultimately flow in the same direction.

"As for the investors who were deceived, especially the new immigrants with no real foundation, the small rich who aspire to join the upper class, and the elderly who are out of touch with the world, they lost everything and had no way to complain. They were even in a very passive legal position because they signed those trap-filled 'investment agreements'."

The media might report on "yet another Ponzi scheme collapses, investors lodge tearful accusations" for a few days, then quickly be overshadowed by new hot topics.

"If Mike Anderson doesn't run fast enough, or gets greedy and tries to pocket more, or learns some core secrets he shouldn't know," K added finally, stating a possibility in a calm tone, "then he will likely 'accidentally' disappear or die in an 'unfortunate accident' before the scam finally collapses, becoming the perfect scapegoat with no way to prove his innocence. That's one of the rules of the game here—dark, but efficient, and cloaked in 'legality' and 'business risk.'"

Lin Feng listened quietly to K's calm and even cruel analysis. His face showed no anger, disdain, or a surge of righteous indignation. Instead, the faint smile that had been lingering at the corner of his mouth slowly widened. It wasn't a warm smile, but rather an expression of calculation and amusement—a smile that suggested he had seen something interesting, discovered a potential tool.

He lowered his head and looked again at the exquisite black business card in his hand, as if examining an antique that had just been wiped clean of dust, revealing its true form. He flicked the edge of the business card with his fingertip, making a soft "plop" sound.

"Interesting," Lin Feng said softly, his voice revealing no emotion, only a pure, almost academic interest. He carefully and solemnly tucked the business card into the inside pocket of his suit, as if it were not a scammer's advertisement, but an important business plan or treasure map.

He looked up in the direction where Mike Anderson had disappeared, his deep black eyes gleaming with an unfathomable light.

"He's a useful hyena," Lin Feng said, seemingly to himself, yet also to K. "At least he knows where the fattest carrion is on this grassland, and he knows which vultures have the best appetites and the sharpest claws."

Moral judgment? That doesn't exist. In Lin's logic, whether Mike Anderson is a fraud or morally depraved is meaningless.

The key lies in the chain of interests behind his methods, the information he possesses about the dark side of "high society" in Seattle and even more widely, and his potential value as a skilled "bait" and "operator."

If used properly, this hyena might actually help him find fatter prey, or even... steal the food from some arrogant vulture.

For him, everything in the world is either "useful" or "useless." And Mike Anderson has just proven himself; perhaps he is somewhat useful.