The Trader

Where was Lin Mo?

He certainly wasn't at Shim Jae-hyeok's villa.

He was at Shim Jae-hyeok's older brother's house, drinking tea.

Shim Jae-hyeok's elder brother's residence was several notches below his own.

The decor was flashy, but the taste was nothing to write home about—a gaudy chandelier paired with a bright red sofa, the aesthetic of a nouveau riche.

Lin Mo held his teacup and took a sip.

Korean tea was bland and watery, but this tea had been imported from China—and it was excellent tea at that.

Still, his attention was entirely on Shim Gyeok-ho's memories.

Shim Gyeok-ho, the founder of Cheonle Group, a man considered a godfather of Korean business circles.

But opening up this man's life?

One word: chaos.

Two words: despicable.

Strictly speaking, this business godfather was a traitor to his own country.

A kinder way to put it would be "pro-Japanese faction."

But in truth, these euphemisms were unnecessary—because Shim Gyeok-ho was a spy.

A spy who had built his business into the top five in Korea.

Back in the day, when Korea was rebuilding from the ashes and its economy desperately needed recovery, Shim Gyeok-ho returned to the Korean market with Japanese capital in hand. Thanks to his native identity, the government didn't just let him through—they gave him a green light all the way.

Back then, who would have guessed that behind that money stood a Japanese intelligence agency?

No one could have imagined it.

Or rather, even if they had, there was nothing they could do about it.

After all, the Korean government was notoriously weak-willed.

In less than fifteen years, Shim Gyeok-ho turned Cheonle Group from a small food processing plant into a sprawling conglomerate spanning multiple industries.

During that time, how much of Korea's military intelligence, political secrets, and economic data had he sold to Japan?

You might think those things weren't all that useful, but Japan profited immensely from them.

Lin Mo counted the details in the memories and shook his head.

Too many to bother tallying.

But none of that mattered to him. Korea and Japan at each other's throats—let them tear each other apart. He'd be happy to watch the fireworks.

What truly drew Lin Mo's attention was another trail.

He'd always assumed the whole Cai Junhuang affair was rooted in Cheonle Group.

Now he could see—Cheonle Group was nothing more than an errand boy.

The real puppeteer was still in Japan.

In Shim Gyeok-ho's memories, one name kept surfacing.

It was a codename within Japan's intelligence system. Shim Gyeok-ho himself hadn't known who it belonged to, only that this person had been operating inside China for years and laid out an extremely deep network.

Compared to Korea's petty little attempts at infiltrating China, Japan's reach was far longer, and its roots went much deeper.

For these people to go to such lengths setting up this chessboard, there was no way it was just for a Cai Junhuang.

In their eyes, Cai Junhuang was, at best, a single piece on the board.

And it was almost certain that piece was meant to be used against him.

Lin Mo wrote down every name, codename, and contact method he found in Shim Gyeok-ho's memories—seven pages' worth, all of it—then tossed the paper out the window.

That paper would be delivered directly to his main body.

Every single page of it could trigger a political tsunami in Korea.

As for Xin Zaidong—

Lin Mo glanced at the man slumped on the sofa across from him, Xin Zaidong, already under his soul-binding control.

Shim Gyeok-ho's assessment of his eldest son had been blunt:

A waste.

In the old man's memories, Xin Zaidong had been a failure since childhood.

Couldn't study, couldn't do business—his only skills were blowing money and chasing women.

By thirty, he'd visited every nightclub in Seoul. By forty, he'd made himself a regular at every casino in Southeast Asia.

Shim Gyeok-ho had once tried to groom him, gave him a subsidiary to manage for three months—and the brat lost two hundred billion won.

After that, Shim Gyeok-ho never handed his eldest son an ounce of real authority again.

The chairman's seat went to Shim Jae-hyeok instead.

Did Xin Zaidong resent it? Of course he did.

But hate didn't change a thing—he genuinely didn't have the chops to compete with his younger brother.

So he went back to his life of pleasure, living off the annual allowance Cheonle Group wired him to sustain his debauched lifestyle.

A textbook rich-kid waste.

Lin Mo stared at Xin Zaidong's face for a few seconds.

"Xin Zaidong."

"Here." Xin Zaidong's reply was mechanical, immediate.

"Do you hate Shim Jae-hyeok?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to be chairman of Cheonle Group?"

"Yes."

Lin Mo smiled.

If Cheonle Group wanted to play the spy game, he didn't mind slipping in one more mole.

He planted a few commands deep in Xin Zaidong's mind, then rose to his feet, setting the teacup back on the table.

"Remember—you saw no one tonight. Tomorrow, you go about your day as usual. Wait for my word."

Xin Zaidong nodded woodenly.

Lin Mo's form vanished from the living room.

Next step: Shim Jae-hyeok.

Cheonle Group was a family business, not a publicly traded corporation.

Just like the Jiang family.

Shim Jae-hyeok had become chairman not because he was the eldest son, but because Shim Gyeok-ho had skipped Xin Zaidong and named him directly.

But what if Shim Jae-hyeok died?

According to Cheonle Group's bylaws, the succession would fall back to Xin Zaidong.

Shim Jae-hyeok had essentially inherited everything from Shim Gyeok-ho.

Including the network of connections.

Meaning—kill Shim Jae-hyeok, and everything he had would pass to Xin Zaidong.

But before moving against Shim Jae-hyeok, there was one matter to handle first.

The person behind the list in Shim Gyeok-ho's head—the one who issued those orders—needed to be identified.

To be honest, YJJ Entertainment was already a dead fish by now.

The scandals had been fully exposed, and within twenty-four hours, every variety show deal and endorsement contract in China would probably be terminated.

Cheonle Group, to protect itself, would definitely cut YJJ loose at the first opportunity—sacrificing the knight to save the king.

But Lin Mo was in the habit of following the vine to find the root.

—System: What comes after "following the vine"? Cutting the grass and pulling out the roots, of course!—

"Alright, alright! Let's compare answers!" Teacher Bai was holding a marked answer sheet, going over it with each contestant.

Lin Mo just sat to one side, eating fruit.

Because this answer sheet had been rewritten by Lin Mo himself.

The fruit was fresh but pricey.

Say what you will, fruit in Korea is expensive—most of it depends on imports.

And imports mean markup.

The contestants all had some real skill, though time had been tight, and some spots only got the answers scribbled down in time, losing a good chunk of points.

As for Lin Mo, his spiritual sense had already drifted over to the competition venue.

The guy whose abilities he'd sealed off was currently getting the living daylights beaten out of him on the ground.

"What good are you! What good are you! Ssi-bal!" A man in a tie and dress shirt was slamming punch after punch into the boy on the floor.

Because his mid-competition freak-out had shattered the disguise, the Korean contestant he'd replaced had their score zeroed out.

Would've been better off sending the original contestant.

It was a hundred percent certain that Korea had lost any chance at a good ranking this time—all because that piece of work had snapped at the worst possible moment.

Then, suddenly, a voice cut through.

"Hey, hold on—this isn't his fault. Let me ask him what really happened."