Under the bright sunlight.

Near the quiet small lake by the forest, the aftermath of last night’s party was left in a mess.

Bang!

A hand suddenly broke through the thick layer of ice, as if the terrifying hand of a zombie breaking out of the ground in a legendary tale reached out from the lake.

The skin was ice blue, like a corpse frozen by ice and snow.

A figure climbed out of the lake, stumbling to the riverbank.

Drenched and shivering, he looked like a normal person who had fallen into an icy lake and climbed out, except for the fact that he had been lying in the lake all night.

Ice flakes clung to Sean’s eyebrows as he sat shivering on the ground, using an abandoned lighter to start a bonfire.

He stretched out his frozen hands to warm them by the fire.

But the flames, which contained astonishing heat, were absorbed into thin air, turning the newly lit firewood into a pile of ice.

The intense cold on his body dissipated, and the ice blue color of his skin faded away.

As if becoming alive again, Sean couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he looked at his own hands. His slightly frozen mind started to work, realizing that something incredible had happened to him.

He clenched his fist, feeling stronger than ever before, almost terrifyingly so.

Having regained his health, he was ready to go home. But as soon as he stepped out of the woods, the extreme cold struck again.

Ice flakes formed on his eyebrows as Sean trembled, waving for help from a passing car.

Sizzle.

“Kid, what’s wrong with you?”

The car stopped, and a middle-aged man got out. He reached out to help Sean, but his body stiffened.

In the next instant, the heat in his body seemed to be sucked away like a tide, and he turned into an ice sculpture, crashing onto the hard road and shattering into pieces of bloody ice flakes.

As Sean’s cold state improved, his strength increased. At the same time, he easily lifted the car as if it were a plastic toy.

He instantly realized something and looked in the direction of a certain town, his eyes filled with unprecedented excitement and eagerness, like a greedy prospector who had just found a nugget of gold and saw a mountain of gold.

There was a thermal power plant over there!

…

Click.

Thick velvet curtains made of wool were drawn, blocking the sunlight outside.

The flames in the fireplace burned quietly.

Luthor took a sip of whiskey, feeling a burning sensation in his throat, but his face showed no reaction.

He browsed through the old news on the computer, as well as the posts made by the residents of the town on the forum, just like he usually did in his office.

A stack of dollar bills was placed on the table next to him.

Click.

The door was opened by a servant.

A middle-aged man in a trench coat walked in, his eyes occasionally flashing with shrewdness. He had slightly receding hairline, giving off a sense of shrewdness and competence.

He held a leather file bag in his hand, casually patting his thigh.

“Mr. Luthor, is the money I asked for ready?”

“Roger Nixon, if I’m not mistaken.”

Luthor stood up slowly, poured a glass of transparent brown liquid into a glass, and handed it to him with a smile.

“The reporter from the Metropolis Inquirer? You said you have something to show me.”

“This photo has caused our sales to skyrocket.”

Nixon took out a newspaper from the file bag.

A prominent printed photo in the center of the newspaper showed Lex Luthor holding a gun at the bank entrance, just after robbing it and running out.

“That’s in the past now.”

Luthor chuckled, “I believe Mr. Nixon, as a reporter, is not unaware of the latest developments in the bank robbery case.”

“News is like that, it easily becomes outdated. It’s difficult to keep your articles on the front page all the time.”

Nixon shook his head.

“Mr. Luthor, have you ever dug potatoes?”

Before Luthor could answer, he stared into Luthor’s eyes, as if he already had a firm grasp of the situation, and smiled triumphantly.

“I guess someone like you, born with a silver spoon in your mouth, probably doesn’t know that digging potatoes can easily bring out a string of them.”

Nixon raised the file bag in his hand and handed it over, seemingly sighing.

“It’s so thick, almost as thick as a stack of banknotes. These are your criminal records from when you were a minor, quite surprising.”

“It seems that Mr. Nixon, the reporter, does have some understanding of my wild youth as he claimed on the phone.”

After taking the file, Luthor’s voice became low, and a smile appeared on his face.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Nixon.”

“Thank you?” Nixon was puzzled, wondering what he was thanking him for, was it for extortion?

“These are all destroyed electronic records and sealed files. How did the reporter find them?”

As he walked back to his desk and sat down slowly, Luthor asked.

“I can imagine that your father must have spent a lot of money to cover up these files. I may not be as rich as your father, but fortunately, it doesn’t cost much to bribe a custodian in a dusty archive room.”

Nixon sneered, thanking the bored custodian who liked to browse through files and brought him a windfall.

“Think about what effect it would have if these things were published. Just discovered that the falsely accused heir of the Luthor Group had a troubled past and bank robbery is nothing.”

“Based on my experience as a journalist, people love plot twists and turns.”

He put down his glass, shrugged, and glanced secretly at the brand new hundred thousand dollars on the table, still carrying the scent of ink, and spoke confidently.

“These things will surely have an impact on the stock price of the Luthor Group!”

“Mr. Nixon, this money is yours.”

Luthor smiled calmly as he took out a black cloth bag from under the table.

“Mr. Luthor, are you also responsible for providing the bag?”

Nixon was somewhat surprised as he put the stack of money on the table into the bag.

“You must be feeling good right now.”

Watching him pack up the money he had extorted from him, Luthor showed no signs of impatience.

“It feels good to win against the famous Luthor father and son, doesn’t it?”After securing the money, he tossed out a sentence that sounded like an adult admonishing a child, then turned to leave, his hand reaching for the doorknob.

“The copy I gave you is the only one, Lex Luthor. Try to live a more honest life from now on.”

“If you walk out that door now, I guarantee you’ll vanish from this world instantly.”

Luthor put down his wine glass, a chilling smile on his face as he spoke.

“What are you going to do, kill me over this small amount of money?”

Nixon turned back to retort disdainfully.

“Did you really think I’d be unprepared when you came to blackmail a billionaire heir?”

If he didn’t return on time, his mailbox would automatically send reports to major newspapers. And was a hundred thousand dollars really worth Luthor killing someone over?

He wasn’t greedy, he only asked for a small sum.

“No, you’ll stay alive. But there will be no evidence of your existence in this world.” He shook his head.

“What are you talking about?”

“Driver’s license, passport, bank accounts, even tax records, all wiped clean.”

Continuing to browse the news on his computer, Luthor spoke casually, as if discussing a trivial matter.

“One phone call, and there’s no evidence you ever existed.”

“Mr. Luthor, are you trying to scare me?”

“Call your bank and see if your account still exists.”

Luthor glanced at him as if he were someone who doubted the sun would rise every day.

“If your phone number still exists, that is.”

He pulled out his phone, trying to make a call, but despite several attempts, Nixon couldn’t get through.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, his face turned frantic, and his voice became shrill with tension.

“How did you do it?”