Chapter 151: Suspected of Murder and Massive Fraud
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
“He submitted an inquiry request to the committee?” Alfred received the news during dinner.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Neumann replied with his head bowed. Alfred raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly, murmuring to himself, “I thought he’d go with a press conference, speak directly to the media… Looks like he really doesn’t like the spotlight.”
“…Your Majesty, do you need me to do anything? The committee can reject the request outright.”
“No, no need. Let them accept it.”
“But the invited experts are concerned…”
The emperor’s demands had been far too unreasonable. Now, the experts were worried that if they had to confront Lin Xu head-on, they might end up being the ones accused of academic misconduct.
“Tell them to relax and move the following plans up,” Alfred said. “The hearing is a great opportunity.”
“Yes, I’ll go make the arrangements.”
After Neumann withdrew, Alfred quietly walked to the window. Rain trickled down steadily outside. Capital Star was still in its comfortably mild summer season. The wind swept through the curtain of rain, bringing in a damp scent.
Alfred knew Lin Xu had a serious and upright academic attitude. There was no way any real issue could be found in the ancient Earth research papers he had published. But public opinion was dangerous—especially under the pressure of a group of industry authorities.
Still, Alfred hadn’t expected to bring Lin Xu down with academic misconduct alone, a rule not even officially written into Imperial law. At most, it would rattle him, make it hard for him to stay peacefully tucked away in his cozy cabin, dating and raising a child in peace.
He still needed to carry out the next phase of his plan.
—
The coalition of co-signers had dug through nearly every one of Lin Xu’s published papers and monographs from the past few years. The workload was so massive they’d probably begun preparations before the seminar even started—yet on the day of, they had clapped along with everyone else like nothing was wrong. Absurd and laughable.
If Lin Xu wanted to refute their accusations, he’d have to prepare rebuttals for every single paper and every single point—an overwhelming amount of text and data. He might even need to ask Curator Zhao to send over the lab’s original experimental records to serve as evidence.
In the week between submitting the inquiry and the start of the hearing, Lin Xu had stayed in the study almost without rest, working day and night. He only paused occasionally to refill the food for the rabbit-cats and the blue squirrels.
Yuanxiao had already learned how to chew on sea crystals at regular intervals to keep their belly full. In the first few days, Lin Xu had tried putting Yuanxiao back in their crib at bedtime. But when they woke up in the middle of the night and found that Papa wasn’t sleeping beside them, they would flutter into the study crying, “Ying wu, ying wu,” and once even slammed into the door in a sleepy daze and fell flat on the floor.
Lin Xu had no choice but to move Yuanxiao’s crib into the study. While he worked, Yuanxiao sat nearby, practicing writing on their own.
Because Lin Xu no longer had time to play with them like he used to, Yuanxiao, despite being near Papa all the time, still felt wronged and lonely. Papa’s serious expression while working even made them a little afraid.
They didn’t want to sleep in the crib anymore either. They flew onto Lin Xu’s shoulder, stomping their little claws a few times. Lin Xu grabbed at their tail, which was sweeping wildly all over the place, and eventually Yuanxiao settled down on his shoulder in a cozy spot.
They watched Lin Xu’s fingers typing on the virtual keyboard, their glassy blue eyes tracking the movement back and forth. Before long, their eyelids started drooping, their head nodding with sleep until they finally dozed off.
At first, the tip of their tail was still lightly tapping against Lin Xu’s chest. But once Yuanxiao was fully asleep, they looked just like a well-behaved model replica of a little dragon. Outside the window, thick clouds pressed low in the sky. Strong winds rolled across the grasslands, and cold moisture poured through the study’s open window, blowing directly over Lin Xu’s desk.
The leaden cloud cover reflected in Lin Xu’s fog-gray eyes. He paused his work and got up to close most of the window, leaving just a narrow slit for ventilation. The howling wind quieted. The whipping curtains settled. But beyond the open plains, the storm still gathered—dark clouds approaching like an army at the gate.
On the day of the hearing, Lin Xu left Yuanxiao in Arnold’s care. Due to the time difference between Capital Star and Endymion, Yuanxiao was still fast asleep when Lin Xu departed. Being suddenly lifted from Lin Xu’s shoulder, Yuanxiao blinked drowsily and looked around, disoriented.
“Awoo…”
Lin Xu stroked their head and back but didn’t say much, not wanting to fully wake them. When the little dragon closed their eyes again under his gentle touch, Lin Xu placed them into the pet carrier and handed it to Arnold.
“You can stay at my place for a while,” Lin Xu said softly. “Wait until they wake up before bringing them to your place. There’s food in the fridge—feel free to make yourself some breakfast.”
Arnold nodded, but Lin Xu’s house had no kitchen robot, and Arnold couldn’t cook. In the end, he relied on nutrient packs for both breakfast and lunch. As he watched Lin Xu’s aircraft take off, Arnold suddenly remembered the first time he had come to Lin Xu’s house with Marshal Chu a year ago. The weather had been just like this—drizzling rain and thick fog. Back then, there were no aerial routes marked out over the Cacamorra Plains, so Arnold had to fly low, guiding the craft along the ground roads.
At the time, Lin Xu had still been driving an old antique car with only terrestrial capabilities. Now, he was piloting aircraft with skill and ease.
Lin Xu took the space elevator to Capital Star. When he arrived at the Academic Committee’s headquarters, it was exactly 13:30 local time. The hearing was scheduled to begin at 14:00 Capital Star time. From high in the sky, the front of the building was packed with journalists and hovering news drones filming the scene.
Dr. Lin Xu had no social media accounts, had not held a press conference, and had refused all interview requests. To date, he had not made any public statements—no one knew what he thought or planned. Every media outlet was desperate to get his first word.
At 13:35, Lin Xu parked his aircraft. At 13:45, journalists waiting outside the building were grumbling to each other.
“Where is he? He’s cutting it too close. What if he chickened out and isn’t showing up?”
“There’s no set deadline for being late to the hearing. Let’s wait a bit longer… I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show. The guy’s a trillionaire—he could leave academia and still live better than the Emperor.”
“Speaking of money… Do you think he just bribed the people accusing him?”
“Who knows?”
While the reporters outside continued speculating, Lin Xu quietly entered the building through an underground entrance.
At 13:50, he arrived at the grand hearing chamber on the 13th floor.
Inside the chamber, there was a designated media zone, and with guards keeping order, Lin Xu’s entry caused a flurry of camera flashes and questions, but things remained relatively orderly. Security staff stopped anyone trying to rush forward. Lin Xu glanced around but said nothing as he passed by.
The prosecution and defense were seated across from one another. To the side sat the committee members. Aside from the Chair, all other staff were present. The accusing party had selected five representatives to speak; the rest sat quietly in the audience seats.
At 13:55, Lin Xu finished organizing his documents and evidence. The representatives on the other side were still nervously whispering among themselves.
At 13:58, the Chair arrived and reminded everyone in the chamber to remain quiet.
At exactly 14:00, the Chair formally declared the hearing in session.
By 14:01, the media zone inside the chamber published the first official report. Only then did the reporters outside realize they’d been tricked—Lin Xu had never entered through the front doors.
Between the two sides sat a small podium for opening statements. One of the representatives from the accusing party stepped up first. As Lin Xu listened, it was all the same empty rhetoric that had been written in the report—each word sharp, but full of flaws to his trained ear.
The representative stepped down drenched in sweat, using a handkerchief to wipe their forehead—only to see Lin Xu calmly step up to the podium, adjust the microphone, and begin. The representative’s sweating worsened.
The man who’d recruited him for this job had paid an enormous sum—far more than he could earn in two centuries of research. He had figured that even if the accusation failed, the worst outcome was getting fired and publicly shamed. Then he could disappear with the money.
Besides, that man had promised to “handle everything” about the hearing. Maybe he wouldn’t even need to disappear; maybe he could just go back to leading his research group like nothing happened.
But in that moment, Lin Xu’s commanding presence shattered all his imagined safety nets. He was terrified.
“Chairman, esteemed committee members, good afternoon.” Lin Xu delivered the customary greeting with a calm, steady tone. He made a brief opening statement and then got straight to the point—analyzing the contents of the accusation attachments.
His pace was moderate. He had no prepared script, yet he spoke fluently and without hesitation. At key points, he paused to allow the committee time to reflect—or to shoot a cold glance at the accusing side.
The spokesperson couldn’t bear his gaze. Hands trembling, they opened their terminal and sent a message: [I think we’re going to lose.]
The reply came quickly: [You don’t need to worry about the rest.]
Lin Xu was about a third of the way through his statement. He had just used original experimental data to dismantle the accusation of data fabrication when the atmosphere in the hall suddenly grew loud—so loud it nearly drowned out Lin Xu’s voice, even amplified through the speakers.
He furrowed his brow and raised the mic volume further.
“Regarding the artifact labeled GHS435, the prosecution claims…”
BANG— a loud crash rang out as the chamber doors were forced open. A team of uniformed police officers stormed in, silencing the entire room in an instant. The media quickly snapped into action, shouting questions, cameras flashing nonstop. The police pushed through, their steps swift and purposeful, heading straight for… Lin Xu.
The prosecution sat frozen in shock. The committee on stage was equally confused, momentarily forgetting to intervene and uphold order. A young alpha detective at the front stepped up to Lin Xu and held out his badge.
“Lin Xu, I’m Richard Merk, lead detective with the Capital Star Police.”
Standing at the podium, Lin Xu towered above him. Merk had to tilt his head up to make eye contact.
“You…” Lin Xu began a polite greeting, but Merk cut him off, opening a file on his enforcement terminal.
“You are under arrest for the suspected murder of Marianna Perser and for large-scale financial fraud. This is a signed warrant. Please, come with us.”
Lin Xu locked eyes with him, reviewing the words in his mind again to make sure he hadn’t misheard. Merk didn’t flinch. The warrant on the screen was clear and unmistakable. At the bottom right, it bore the prosecutor’s digital signature and official seal.
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