Chapter 2

The next morning, I entered the Voss Group tower again.

The receptionist saw me and instinctively tried to stop me, but was frightened silent by my icy stare. I walked straight to the elevator, heading directly to Elena's former office.

"Stop! You can't go up!"

A sharp rebuke came from behind. I turned to see a well-dressed young man leading a group of security guards approaching aggressively.

Darian Voss—Marcus's only son, a spoiled brat who bullied others using his father's power.

"Kyle Voss?" Darian sneered, looking me up and down. "I heard you became some War King? Tsk, you're just a butcher who kills people. Still want to come back and claim inheritance? Dream on!"

He walked up to me, arrogantly lifting his chin: "Let me tell you, Voss Group is now my father's domain. That bitch Elena is dead—you have no business here. If you're smart, get lost and stop being an eyesore!"

I looked at him quietly, saying nothing.

Thinking I was afraid, Darian became even more arrogant: "What? Not convinced? What can a soldier like you do? This is Asgard City, not your godforsaken Northern Border! Here, my father's word is law. Even the mayor has to give him..."

SLAP!

The crisp sound echoed through the lobby. Darian was sent flying, crashing heavily to the ground, blood seeping from his mouth, half his face instantly swollen.

Everyone froze—they had probably never seen anyone dare to strike Darian.

"You... you dare hit me?" Darian covered his face, staring at me in disbelief.

"Mention her one more time," I said coldly, "and I'll silence you permanently."

"Get him! Cripple him!" Darian screamed hysterically.

More than a dozen security guards hesitantly surrounded me. I didn't move, just stood there, battle intent slowly rising within.

On the Northern Border battlefield, I faced armies of thousands, true life-and-death struggles. These security guards weren't even a warm-up.

The first guard charged with a punch. I dodged sideways, delivering a knife-hand strike to his neck—he instantly collapsed unconscious. The second, the third... In less than ten seconds, all the security guards lay on the ground groaning.

I placed my foot on Darian's chest, looking down at this waste: "Listen carefully. Starting today, I will investigate Elena's death. Whoever dares obstruct me will share this fate."

"You... you're finished..." Darian moaned in pain. "My father won't let you go... Imperial law won't let you go..."

"Law?" I sneered. "I'd like to see whether your dirty tricks are more effective, or my iron-fisted methods more ruthless."

Releasing my foot, I entered the elevator and pressed the button for Elena's office floor.

The elevator doors slowly closed, shutting out the chaos behind.

DING—

Top floor arrived.

Elena's office was at the end of the corridor. The door was sealed, obviously locked for a long time. I tore off the seal and pushed open the door.

The office was in chaos.

Documents scattered on the floor, bookshelves toppled, Elena's favorite crystal vase shattered everywhere. This didn't look like a normal investigation scene—it looked like it had been maliciously vandalized.

I bent down to pick up a document—Voss Group's financial statements. The numbers were dense, but having handled countless logistics accounts commanding legions in the Northern Border, I could spot irregularities at a glance.

The accounts showed Elena had embezzled thirty million dollars in public funds, but comparing the transaction records carefully, this money wasn't withdrawn by her at all—someone had used her authorization to transfer it.

"Someone framed her..." I ground my teeth.

Continuing to search, I found more evidence in the desk drawer.

A torn confidential contract. I patiently pieced it together to find it was a negotiation document between Elena and the West Coast Business Alliance. The contract showed the West Coast Alliance wanted to acquire 40% of Voss Group shares, but Elena refused, writing in the notes column:

"These people have ulterior motives. I must never let them taint Voss Group."

The handwriting was elegant and firm, just like her character.

My hands trembled slightly. Elena must have invited fatal disaster by refusing this deal.

At the very bottom of the drawer, I found a phone. The screen was cracked but still working. I pressed the power button—the phone screen flickered and incredibly still had battery.

In the unsent messages folder was a half-composed distress text:

"Kyle, I'm in danger. Marcus is colluding with outsiders, trying to seize the company. They drugged me, I can't hold on. If you can see this message, please help me uncover the truth. I love you—"

My hand gripped the phone so tightly the screen cracked further in my palm.

In her final moments, she was still thinking of me. She knew she was in danger but had nowhere to turn, could only place her hope in me, far away in the Northern Border.

And I... wasn't by her side.

"Elena... I'm sorry..."

The Iron-Blood War King, invincible across battlefields, yet couldn't even protect the woman he loved.

I dialed Rex's encrypted line: "Investigate all correspondence between Marcus and the West Coast Business Alliance. Also, retrieve surveillance footage from three months ago. I want to know exactly what happened the day Elena 'fell.'"

"Yes! Sir, there's something else..." Rex's voice was grave. "We found discrepancies in Elena's autopsy report. A rare drug component was detected in her blood—hydroxybenzoate."

"What's that?"

"A banned anesthetic that can make someone lose consciousness instantly. It's not available on the market—only on the black market and in certain special institutions. And..." Rex paused, "the autopsy report shows Miss Elena had already lost consciousness before falling from the building."

My eyes sharpened: "Meaning she didn't jump—she was drugged and pushed?"

"Correct. But this autopsy report was suppressed. The police's case file doesn't mention it at all."

"Who suppressed it?"

"The signatory is... Deputy Police Chief Gregory Thompson. And Thompson's wife happens to be Marcus's cousin."

Everything connected.

Leaving the office, I saw a group of well-dressed men standing in the corridor. Leading them was Marcus, accompanied by several people who appeared high-ranking.

"Kyle Voss," Marcus said darkly, "you broke into a sealed area and assaulted company employees—you've broken the law. I'm formally notifying you to leave Voss Group, or I'll call the police."

"Call the police?" I sneered. "Perfect. I'd like to ask the police department why the autopsy report was tampered with."

Marcus's expression changed, but he quickly regained composure: "I don't know what you're talking about. Elena's case is closed. If you have objections, you can pursue legal channels."

"Legal channels?" I walked toward him step by step. "You dare talk to me about legal channels?"

"Outrageous!" A bald middle-aged man beside Marcus scolded. "Young man, do you know who I am? I'm William Blake, Executive Director of the West Coast Business Alliance. I advise you to calm down, or you'll regret it."

I glanced at him: "Get lost."

"You—" William Blake's face turned red with anger.

"Kyle Voss," Marcus sneered, "you think because you're some War King, you can do whatever you want in Asgard City? Let me tell you, this isn't a battlefield. Your methods won't work here. If you're smart, leave now, or else..."

"Or else what?" I interrupted. "Or else you'll treat me like you treated Elena?"

A flash of panic crossed Marcus's face, but he quickly masked it: "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't know?" I sneered. "You'll know soon enough."

With that, I turned to leave. Behind me came Marcus's lowered voice: "Watch him closely. Don't let him cause trouble."

Exiting the building, Rex was already waiting by the car.

"Sir, we found it. The surveillance footage from three months ago was deleted, but we recovered partial segments from the backup server."

"Show me."

Rex handed over a tablet. On the screen, though the surveillance footage was blurry, the general situation was clear.

That night, Elena was working alone in her office. At 2 AM, Marcus and two other strange men barged in. They seemed to be arguing about something, Elena shaking her head vigorously in refusal. Then one man suddenly grabbed her from behind, another pulled out a syringe...

The footage cut off there.

"Damn it!" I punched the car door.

"Sir, there's something else," Rex said hesitantly. "We found that Miss Elena's body... isn't in the Voss family cemetery."

"What?" I looked up sharply.

"Marcus announced publicly that she was cremated and buried, but we investigated the funeral home and cemetery—there are no records. Miss Elena's body... whereabouts unknown."

What!