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{Chapter: 225 I suggest sending me a reward!!}
Just as Lin Yuan's men were about to storm the stairwell and head upstairs, a sudden screech of tires cut through the tension like a blade.
An extended black Lincoln sedan came to a dramatic halt directly in front of them, blocking their path.
But it wasn't just the Lincoln.
Within seconds, the street erupted with the flashing lights and piercing wails of dozens of white police vehicles, sirens screaming in unison. The entire block was bathed in red and blue strobe lights, as if the city itself had been set on alert.
The squad cars boxed in the perimeter with precision, forming a barricade of authority and force. Officers jumped out and moved swiftly to secure the area, halting Lin Yuan's men in their tracks.
One Lincoln wouldn't have been enough to stop them.
But this?
This was a full-scale police intervention.
The rear doors of the Lincoln opened, and out stepped two men with a commanding presence.
The first was a dignified middle-aged man with a pair of sharp, symmetrical mustaches perched above his lip like two lines drawn with a ruler—elegant and deliberate, matching his equally tidy eyebrows. He wore a tailored suit, and his gait exuded experience and confidence.
The second man was clad in a crisp black police uniform, his expression stern and official. The insignia on his breastplate identified him instantly: Luo Yinghao, Director of the Special Police Force, Xiling District Station. A man known for swift action and little patience.
Though Lin Yuan had never met the mustached man before, his identity was unmistakable.
That man was Chen Meng, head of the influential Chen family.
The resemblance to the descriptions from the original novel was uncanny.
Lin Yuan recalled everything in an instant—Chen Meng and Luo Yinghao were closely allied. In the story, they were often referred to as being so aligned in thought and action that they "wore the same pair of pants"—a colloquial phrase mocking their partnership, implying how inseparable and ideologically identical they were.
Lin Yuan understood their sudden arrival.
They were here for Ye Feng.
Ye Feng must have somehow managed to send out a distress signal—possibly to the Chen family. And the response had been swift.
Chen Meng's arrival was slightly premature by normal timing standards… but for Ye Feng, it couldn't have been more perfect.
This was the so-called "protagonist's halo," Lin Yuan thought with a wry smile.
Standing on the second floor, Lin Yuan looked down at them from the balcony. His gaze was cool, his expression unreadable. He said nothing at first—choosing silence over acknowledgement.
Below, Chen Meng's mustaches twitched as he looked up with a seemingly warm expression, breaking the silence.
"You must be Lin Jianjun's son… Lin Yuan, am I right?" he called out with a faint smile, his voice carrying across the tense air.
"I'm Chen Meng, the current head of the Chen family. It's been a long time since I last saw you. You were just a baby back then—still in diapers. If I recall correctly, you used to call me Uncle Chen," he added with a chuckle, the tone light but tinged with condescension.
To Chen Meng, Lin Yuan was still a junior—a mere boy in his eyes.
After all, only Lin Yuan's father, Lin Jianjun, was someone who could speak to him as an equal. As far as Chen Meng was concerned, Lin Yuan was still wet behind the ears.
That subtle arrogance—typical of the old guard—was laced in every word he spoke.
Lin Yuan heard it clearly.
The unspoken superiority.
The dismissal.
Though in terms of age and generation, Chen Meng might indeed be considered of his father's era, the truth was that the relationship between the Lin family and the Chen family had long been fractured. Not just strained—but hostile.
The supposed memory of Lin Yuan calling him "Uncle" was nothing more than fabricated nostalgia, perhaps a veiled attempt to assert dominance.
Lin Yuan didn't rise to it.
He didn't even respond right away.
Instead, he turned his gaze away from Chen Meng, walked calmly back to his chair, and sat down. Slowly and deliberately, he lifted his teacup, took a sip, and then finally spoke—his tone smooth and cold.
"Oh? So it's the esteemed head of the Chen family."
His voice carried a subtle edge of amusement, but no respect.
There was no bow, no greeting, no gesture of deference.
Chen Meng, used to being treated with honor and politeness, felt a flicker of irritation, but kept his expression calm and composed.
Lin Yuan continued, "Chen Meng, head of the Chen family… and you must be Director Luo Yinghao of the Xiling District Police. Am I right?"
Despite being a younger man, Lin Yuan made no effort to speak with the courtesy expected of his generation.
To him, these were not elders worthy of respect—they were political players, stepping onto a battlefield of influence and control.
Chen Meng's face remained fixed in a neutral smile, but there was a tightness at the corners of his eyes. He did not appreciate being spoken to so casually. Still, he chose not to reveal his displeasure.
Luo Yinghao, however, had a far shorter fuse.
He narrowed his eyes at Lin Yuan's dismissive tone.
Standing shoulder to shoulder with Chen Meng, he felt the slight sting of disrespect, especially as Lin Yuan stood above them both, literally and figuratively—looking down from the second floor like a young emperor addressing petitioners.
To Luo Yinghao, it was an insult.
To Lin Yuan, it was strategy.
Because even on this precarious stage—surrounded, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered—he would not allow himself to look small.
He was Lin Yuan.
And he never bowed to anyone.
Luo Yinghao's voice rang out like a thunderclap. "Young master of the Lin family! I want to know—what exactly are you doing here, storming the building with so many armed men at your side?!"
As soon as his words fell, the doors of several police cars burst open, and a wave of uniformed officers swiftly stepped out. Their presence was overwhelming, a sea of black and white uniforms with weapons holstered and eyes fixed sharply on Lin Yuan.
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