In the quiet interrogation room, Lynch sat half-perched on the table, arms crossed, one foot dangling, the other touching the ground, looking at Mr. Fox, "You can eat something first, we'll talk once you're done."

Mr. Fox glanced at Lynch and then quietly started eating.

He chewed carefully, his doctor had told him that at his age, and having faced hunger in his youth, he had chronic gastritis that was hard to cure, so he couldn't eat too quickly, otherwise, he'd have unbearable stomach pains at night.

He chewed slowly, and for the first time, realized that boiled chicken breast wasn't so bad, even though it lacked flavor. Plain water-boiled chicken breast, dry and tough, but to someone hungry, it was still supreme cuisine.

The meal took over ten minutes, and Lynch silently watched him finish the last bit of vegetable puree before nodding.

"Now that you're full, shall we talk about our matters?"

"What have you considered?"

Mr. Fox sat in the chair, using the index and thumb of his right hand to clean his beard, wiping and scraping it, collecting any meat bits or food debris onto his fingertips, then putting it in his mouth.

From these actions, he didn't appear wealthy, because wealthy people would never perform such embarrassing gestures. If you ask how they deal with similar issues?

No, they likely wouldn't let food debris fall outside their lips, let alone on their important beard.

After doing this, he leaned back in his chair, head down, not uttering a word.

Passive resistance was truly meaningless, just like Lynch said, the Federation's legal procedures are very strict. Typically, without sufficient evidence, law enforcement can't even bring someone to the courthouse, let alone fully control them.

Such silent resistance only allows law enforcement to present the criminal's resistance facts to the judge in court, leading to heavier sentencing.

But Mr. Fox was indifferent, evading so much tax, indeed just as Lynch said, perhaps he wouldn't come out in this life.

Moreover, he feared offending Lynch more than never getting out in this life.

One fellow, Michael, offended Lynch, even though Michael himself would avoid excessively angering Lynch. The result was that Lynch legally threw him into prison, reportedly a high-security one, without invoking any special talent law.

And Lynch's connections are so numerous and complex, that he might get accused, release after a few years, or even never serve time, then who will bear his intense revenge?

Himself?

Or his son, Little Fox?

Clean fellows like Michael can't withstand Lynch's schemes, how about those whose reputations are already tarnished?

Moreover, who knows if testifying against Lynch is effective, if it's ineffective, he's truly afraid his entire family would vanish from the human world.

So he kept silent, no matter what others said, he wouldn't answer, and when necessary, like at court, he'd directly plead guilty, but otherwise, he wouldn't say anything else.

Lynch knitted his brow, moved his butt from the table, and walked two steps to Mr. Fox, pressing a hand on the back of his chair, bent forward, head lowered, looking at Mr. Fox, speaking in a non-strict but chilling tone, "You'd better cooperate a bit, this is the State Tax Bureau."

Though it didn't appear threatening, it was indeed a threat, showing the Tax Bureau's role in the entire Federation Society.

Mr. Fox stayed the same, sitting with his head down, not saying a word.

At that moment, Lynch released the chair back, straightened up, and started undressing.

First the coat, then the tie, finally unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves.

Then he punched Mr. Fox's stomach with full force, being a mature adult in his thirties, at the peak of physical conditions.

The immense force made the rubber-fixed stool on the floor sound a "dong," Mr. Fox's body shook violently and curled up, vomiting loudly.

Everything he just ate was vomited out, and Lynch didn't allow him much time to vomit, delivering another punch to his right waist, causing Mr. Fox to vomit more violently, accompanied by extreme pain.

Convulsing, the kind of pain unimaginable to those who haven't experienced it, wondering why such torment exists in the world, painful enough to drive a person to suicide.

Lynch picked up the iron tray and forcefully struck Mr. Fox's head, the thin tray quickly deformed, becoming unhandy.

He threw the tray, grabbed Mr. Fox's hair, dragging him from between the chair and the table, kicking his thigh, making Mr. Fox fall to the ground.

What followed was a lengthy beating lasting over ten minutes.

Lynch was skilled at hitting, knowing how to inflict the most painful tortures without causing severe injuries.

Whether this kind of thing happens to the police or to those in the FBI, it is undoubtedly another interrogation scandal.

But if it happens in the Tax Bureau, it seems perfectly normal.

More than ten minutes later, the man with the sallow face panted heavily and pounded on the iron door, and the staff outside immediately entered.

Some of them began to clean up the mess, while the others started to check Mr. Fox's injuries.

They were professional doctors, specifically responsible for conducting physical examinations on those after interrogations, ensuring these people wouldn't suddenly drop dead.

After receiving diagnosis results of multiple soft tissue bruises and subcutaneous vascular tears from the examination, the man with the sallow face put on his clothes again and became courteous once more.

The bruised and battered Mr. Fox was helped back to the chair by him. He twisted his neck, smirking, saying, "I respect you, Mr. Fox. Very few people keep secrets for others like you do. You are a person worth respecting."

"And I also want to try to make you even more respectable, so you better maintain this attitude!"

After saying this, he quickly left, and at the moment he closed the door after leaving the interrogation room, his expression changed from unpleasant to serious.

During the beating of Mr. Fox, the old Mr. Fox neither begged for mercy, nor cried out in pain, nor even made loud noises, at most some light sounds like "um" or "ah".

The man with the sallow face knew how hard his blows were, how horrifying the pain he inflicted was, yet that old man really said nothing.

What does this signify?

This signifies that things have become tricky. They are finding it hard to open a breach from Mr. Fox, in other words, they may not find a reason to testify against Lynch, but have offended this old man and his family, as well as Lynch.

There's no doubt that when Lynch returns, he will surely know why the Tax Bureau arrested Mr. Fox, and being those who took the lead, there's a chance they might get Lynch's attention.

He paced back and forth a few steps, then quickly returned to the office to communicate with the Assistant Director, took two investigators, and drove out of the parking lot; he was about to meet another person—Michael.

Before arresting Mr. Fox, he had checked the entire case file; Michael, the head of the Sabin City Tax Bureau investigation team, should know something, but later he was sacrificed.

His knowledge of Lynch was more direct and more insightful than the people here; the man with the sallow face thought he might be able to obtain some information from Michael.

Meanwhile, after a day, a night, and a morning of travel, Lynch walked out of the Sabin City station.

As soon as he came out, a young man, looking about twenty-two or twenty-three, approached proactively, "Hello, Mr. Lynch, the Mayor sent me to pick you up…"

Lynch said a thank you, but did not get into the young man's car, instead, he got into his own car and followed behind the young man's vehicle.

The convoy quickly disappeared into the traffic, and more than ten minutes later, Lynch arrived at City Hall and met with Ferrari in the Mayor's office.

"You've put on a bit of weight since I last saw you," after a simple hug, Lynch teased, "looks like the Mayor's salary is much higher than what you used to earn."

Ferrari also had a smile on his face. Lynch was a crucial figure in his becoming Mayor, and their relationship was not just simple friendship; he was also Lynch's advisor, earning an extra income every month, making his current life much better than before.

After closing and locking the door, the two of them sat down.

"There's some bad news. Yesterday, people from the State Tax Bureau took Mr. Fox away, possibly to the state bureau. That place is quite tricky; I can't find out any information."

Be it the state government or state-level agencies, in the rules and systems of the Federation, even if the law grants them the power to enforce the law, they must notify the lower-level agency, which is also a process issue.

They seldom don't do so; in the case of arresting Mr. Fox, the state bureau directly informed the local government that they needed Mr. Fox to assist in an investigation of a case, and the assistance location was not in Sabin City, which is why Ferrari made such a judgment.

Lynch frowned, and after having a simple exchange with Ferrari about some unimportant matters, he left. He had initially thought it was the local Tax Bureau troubling Mr. Fox, but it now seems it wasn't the case.

The new Director of the Sabin City Tax Bureau was not someone he knew, so he hadn't thought about inquiring for news from the Sabin City Tax Bureau, but there was still some good news.

For Lynch, now he had someone in the State Tax Bureau too—Johnson.

Director Johnson was almost "due"; he didn't have any strong connections above, no room for further advancement, so he could only step aside for those young people with connections.

The tax system is harsh externally but relatively nice internally; they initially provided Director Johnson with a job in the file room. However, given how thoughtfully he paved the way for the current director, he was transferred to a research office in the State Tax Bureau as a consultant researcher.

In fact, it was just a name for him to continue enjoying some benefits, and when he reached retirement age, he would be kicked out.

Now, this line just happens to be usable.

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