Chapter 29: No trace of ever existing on the World
By the quiet lake near the forest, all that was left after last night's party was a mess.
Boom!
A hand suddenly broke through the thick ice, like a zombie hand that broke through the ground in the horror stories and stretched out from the lake.
The skin was icy blue like a corpse frozen to death by ice and cold.
A figure crawled out of the lake and staggered to the river bank.
His body was wet and shivering non-stop, like a person who fell into an icy lake and climbed out. It was very normal, except that he had been lying in the lake all night.
Sean's eyebrows were covered with icicles, and he sat on the ground shivering, lighting a small fire with an abandoned lighter.
He stretched out his frozen hands to warm himself by the fire.
But the flames containing large amounts of heat were absorbed into space, and the freshly lit firewood turned into an ice pile.
The thick ice cold on his body was dispelled, and the icy blue color of his skin faded.
Looking like he was starting to look like a living person again, Sean couldn't believe it.
Looking at his hands, his mind was slightly frozen, and his thoughts turned. It seemed that something incredible happened to him.
He clenched his fist, feeling that he had never been in such good condition, feeling horribly strong.
After recovering his health, he was ready to go home, but just as he walked out of the woods, the extremely cold came again.
Icicles formed on his eyebrows, Sean tremblingly waved to the passing cars for help.
"Son, what's the matter with you?"
A car stopped, and the uncle who just got off and just supported him with concern, had his body frozen.
In the next moment, his body heat was sucked away like a tide, and his whole body turned into an ice sculpture, which smashed straight onto the hard road and shattered into bloody ice slag.
Sean's cold condition improved, and at the same time, his whole body became stronger, and he stretched out his hand to lift the car as easily as a plastic toy.
He realized something in an instant, and looked towards a certain direction of the town, like a greedy gold miner who just found a mountain of gold, with unprecedented excitement and a fiery look in his eyes, he couldn't help swallowing.
There was - a thermal power station!
...
The heavy curtains made of fine wool were drawn to block the sunlight outside.
A fire burned quietly in the fireplace.
Luther took a sip of whiskey, his throat felt like it was on fire, but there was no movement on his face.
He browsed the old news on the computer and the posts on the forum by the townspeople as usual.
On a nearby table were stacks of dollars.
The door of the room was opened by a servant.
A middle-aged man in a windbreaker walked in, with shrewd eyes flashing from time to time, his hair was slightly bald, giving off a shrewd and cunning look.
With a kraft file bag in his hand, he patted his thigh leisurely.
"Mr. Luther, are you ready with the money I want?"
"Roger Nixon, if I remember correctly."
Luther stood up slowly and poured some transparent brown wine into the glass and handed it to him, smiling.
"A reporter from the Metropolitan Inquisitor? You said you have something you want to show me."
"This photo has recently skyrocketed our sales."
Nixon took out a newspaper from his bag.
The eye-catching printed photos in the center of the newspaper photographed the scene of Lex Luthor holding a pistol at the door of the bank, just grabbing the money and rushing out of the door.
"It's already in the past."
Luther chuckled: "I think Mr. Nixon, as a reporter, you will not be ignorant of the latest developments in the bank robbery case."
"The news is like this; it can easily become outdated. It is very difficult for your articles to occupy the headlines all the time."
Nixon shook his head.
"Mr. Luther, have you ever dug potatoes?"
Before Luther could answer, he stared into Luther's eyes, as if he had firmly controlled the situation, and smiled triumphantly.
"I imagine that someone like you who was born with a golden spoon in his mouth probably doesn't know that when digging potatoes, one can easily bring out a bunch of them."
Nixon raised the document bag in his hand and sighed as he looked it over, handing it to him.
"It's so thick, it's almost as thick as a wad of banknotes. It's really surprising that you had a criminal record while you were a minor."
"It seems that you didn't lie to me on the phone, and really know something about my wild teenage days."
After taking over the file
and flipping through it, Luther's voice was low, and a smile appeared on his face. "Thank you very much, Mr. Nixon."
"Thank you?" Nixon was puzzled, thanking him for what, to blackmail?
"This is full of electronic records that have been destroyed and files that have been sealed. How did you find it?"
He walked back to his desk, sat down slowly, and asked.
"It seems that your father must have spent a lot of money to cover up these files.
I'm not as rich as your father, but fortunately, it doesn't cost much to buy a guard in the filing room that's full of files collecting dust on the shelves."
Nixon sneered. Thanks to a guard who was bored and liked to browse through the files, he gave himself a story.
"Think about the effect of these things if they are published. I just found out that the exiled heir of the LuthorCorp actually had a lot of bad deeds when he was young, and robbing a bank is nothing at all."
"Based on my experience as a reporter, people just like to reverse and mislead the plot."
He put down his glass, shrugged, secretly glanced at the brand new one hundred thousand dollars on the table, and talked eloquently.
"This must have some impact on LutherCorp's stock price!"
"Mr. Nixon, the money is yours."
Luther took out a black cloth bag from under the table with a slow smile.
"Mr. Luthor, are you still providing a bag for the money?"
Nixon was a little surprised and put the wads of money on the table into the bag.
"You must be feeling good now."
Luther was not in a hurry as he watched him pack up the money he extorted from himself.
"It feels good to have won against the famous Luther and his son."
After packing the money, he smiled and threw down a sentence that made him sound like an adult teaching a child, turned to leave, and just as his hand was about to touch the doorknob.
"The one I gave you is the only copy. Live an honest life in the future, Lex Luthor."
"If you walk out of this door now, I guarantee that you will disappear from this world immediately."
Luthor put down his wine glass, saying threatening words casually with a smile.
"What are you going to do, kill me for this little money?"
Nixon turned around and asked disdainfully.
"Do you think I came to blackmail a billionaire heir unprepared?"
If he doesn't return on time, the mail containing evidence will automatically be forwarded to the major newspapers, and is one hundred thousand dollars' worth being murdered by Luthor?
He was not greedy and only asked for a small amount for a billionaire.
"No, you will live well. But there will be no evidence of your existence in the world." He shook his head.
"What are you saying?"
"The driver's license, passport, bank account, and even tax payment records will be all gone."
Continuing to browse the news on the computer, Luthor spoke casually, as if talking about an insignificant matter.
"One phone call and there will be no evidence that you have lived."
"Mr. Luthor, are you trying to scare me?"
"Call the bank to see if your account is still there."
Luther looked up at the guy who still doubted the common sense of the world.
"If your mobile phone number is still there."
He took out his mobile phone and wanted to make a call, but Nixon couldn't make a call after several attempts.
Cold sweat oozes from his forehead, his face becomes flustered, and his voice was tense and shrill.
"How did you do it?"
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