Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Wealthiest Man, Shen Tu Yue

Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Wealthiest Man, Shen Tu Yue

Inside the luxurious car, Xia Zheng glanced at Shen Tu Wanhua, who exuded competence and presence, and wondered who her father might be. Judging from her surname, it didn't take long for him to reach a conclusion.

"Could your esteemed father be Shen Tu Yue?" Although Xia Zheng usually paid little attention to the news about the rich and powerful, he was familiar with the most renowned tycoons.

"Indeed, he is my father." Shen Tu Wanhua nodded in affirmation. Though she appeared not yet thirty, she already carried herself with the air of a leader.

Shen Tu Yue was a legendary figure in the business world, rumored to share a life-and-death bond with the current President. These two titans had risen from humble beginnings, fought their way to the top, and ultimately, one became the king of commerce—the wealthiest man in the Federation—while the other became the head of state, together forging an unparalleled legend.

His life story had long been adapted into films and television dramas, becoming an enduring subject. There were countless versions of the tales about his immense fortune, yet no one knew which was true.

Still, Xia Zheng found it puzzling—why had Shen Tu Yue concealed his identity when issuing this task? If his name had been public, wouldn't even more powerful individuals have rushed to find the three rare herbs for him?

"My father’s status is both an honor and a burden. If he had published the task under his real name, it’s true he would have attracted more capable people. But it would also have drawn the attention of his enemies, perhaps even causing turmoil for the Federation. That’s why he insisted on anonymity," Shen Tu Wanhua explained.

So that was it. For celebrities—especially figures so influential that a single cough could shake the markets—such considerations were a heavy weight. Xia Zheng felt his own current life was quite satisfactory; he used to fantasize about being a tycoon, but once his income stabilized, he set grander goals for himself. He no longer pursued wealth for its own sake. After all, money is merely a tool to realize one’s ambitions; if it becomes the ultimate goal, life would be tragically empty, always chasing an ill-defined purpose.

Azure Hospital was one of Portland’s most prestigious medical institutions—daring to bear the Federation’s name was no small feat. Shen Tu Wanhua informed Xia Zheng that her family, the Shen Tu clan, was the principal shareholder behind the hospital.

The hospital specialized in treating terminal, critical, and rare diseases—of course, the fees were astronomical, far beyond the reach of ordinary people. However, it maintained a unique tradition: ordinary citizens could submit applications for admission, and each month, one would be randomly chosen as a “lucky patient,” entitled to completely free treatment and care until recovery or death.

Though only a single spot was available, the hope it offered prompted countless applications—giving many desperate families their final glimmer of hope.

They entered a secluded special ward area at the edge of Azure Hospital: a cluster of standalone villas reserved for only the most distinguished patients.

As Xia Zheng observed his surroundings, he felt his worldview shift again. The gap between the wealthy and ordinary folk was greater than that between nations. Even now, with nearly a million to his name, he didn’t qualify to stay here. No wonder his parents so strongly opposed his relationship with Nalan Sheng—commoners and aristocrats were worlds apart. Of course, he was just at the start of his journey; someday, his wealth would surely surpass this. Still, he wasn’t much interested in being rich. He had declined offers from several major corporations, turning down a lucrative post-tax, seven-figure salary to join the Tenin Squad, as he had a clear vision for his future and wouldn’t bend for money.

They entered the grandest villa of the convalescent area and ascended to the second floor, where the lighting was exceptional and the air fresh. The interior felt like a palace, so surreal that Xia Zheng could hardly believe his eyes.

Servants, nurses, doctors, and bodyguards bustled about, each performing their duties. Though many people were present, the atmosphere remained quiet and orderly.

Perhaps because Shen Tu Wanhua accompanied him, the bodyguards never troubled Xia Zheng along the way.

At the entrance to the patient’s room, he was asked to don sterile protective clothing. Though irritated, Xia Zheng acquiesced—having come this far, he could hardly refuse.

Once changed, he entered. Even with purified air and fragrant masking scents, the smell of disinfectant lingered.

"I wonder what illness this old man has, to require such intense sterile precautions," Xia Zheng muttered as he followed Shen Tu Wanhua. Passing through a door, they finally came upon a massive, sumptuous bed, flanked by people on either side who all turned to look as the pair entered.

Because of his abilities as a telepath, Xia Zheng was acutely sensitive to the emotional responses of others. The gazes upon him from either side of the room carried distinctly different flavors: one side radiated friendliness and appreciation, the other resentment and scorn—two opposing camps, clearly defined.

"Father, this is Mr. Xia Zheng, who completed the task. I have brought him," Shen Tu Wanhua addressed a middle-aged man leading the group on Xia Zheng’s left.

The man nodded and approached Xia Zheng, accompanied by a slightly younger man who bore a strong resemblance—likely his brother.

This was Shen Tu Wanhua’s father. He patted Xia Zheng’s shoulder in a friendly gesture and said, "Young man, I’m very grateful you found those three herbs and saved my father’s life. I am Shen Tu Heng, and I thank you."

The other man immediately added, "I am Shen Tu Zhen; thank you, young friend."

Xia Zheng replied with neither arrogance nor deference, "It was a stroke of luck—I dare not claim credit."

"Not at all, young friend, you are too modest," Shen Tu Heng said, clearly pleased with Xia Zheng’s humility.

Just then, a discordant voice cut in, "If only you’d taken my advice earlier, Father wouldn’t have suffered so long. Who knows what you were thinking!"

"What do you mean by that, elder brother?" Shen Tu Heng’s tone instantly hardened.

Another unfamiliar man spoke, "Second brother, don’t get worked up—let’s stick to the facts. The suggestions made by our first and third branches were only intended to spare Father further suffering. After all, he’s nearly ninety; delay is not an option."

"That’s my eldest uncle, Shen Tu Yuan, and third uncle, Shen Tu Li," Shen Tu Wanhua whispered, and Xia Zheng nodded, moving to lean against the wall and rest with his eyes closed.

"Third brother, what are you implying? Do you think second brother and I want Father to suffer?" Shen Tu Zhen snapped.

"Fourth, watch your tone—he’s your third brother; show some respect," Shen Tu Yuan scolded.

Shen Tu Zhen retorted, clearly dissatisfied, "Don’t pull rank, eldest brother. If you’re not upright yourself, your orders mean nothing to me."

"Insolent! Everyone knows you and second brother are thick as thieves," Shen Tu Yuan fumed.

"Don’t slander me, eldest brother," Shen Tu Heng immediately shot back. Soon, the wives, concubines, and children of both sides joined the fray—even in their protective gear, the room felt like a battlefield.

Xia Zheng found it all rather tedious. Did the wealthy always play out these inheritance dramas? It seemed the melodramatic TV shows he’d watched were truer to life than he’d thought.

With vast fortunes, multiple wives, and numerous children, conflicting interests inevitably erupted. If the head of the house failed to act justly, it sparked family storms and even inheritance scandals. No wonder some famous Federation tycoons donated their fortunes on their deathbeds—perhaps they’d simply been driven mad by it all.

After roughly ten minutes of heated argument, a frail yet commanding voice suddenly echoed through the room, "All of you, get out. I want to speak with Mr. Xia alone."

The patriarch had spoken—both factions instantly fell silent, his authority still unchallenged. They filed out, none sparing Xia Zheng a glance.

Once everyone had gone, Xia Zheng opened his eyes and approached the old man’s bedside.

"Mr. Xia, you’re so young…" Shen Tu Yue, now seeing Xia Zheng up close, was visibly taken aback.

Xia Zheng nodded. "Ambition is not the province of age."

"Heh… How interesting. When I was fifty, I lost everything and had to start over. Many laughed at me and tried to dissuade me, but I replied, ‘Ambition is not a matter of age.’ In the end, I succeeded, and they became the laughingstock of my legend." Shen Tu Yue seemed much more energetic, pressing a button so the bed slowly lifted him into a sitting position.

An interesting old man, Xia Zheng thought—he displayed no airs of a tycoon, nor the vulgar ostentation of a parvenu. He seemed more like a university professor.

"I wonder, sir, what did you wish to see me about?" Xia Zheng voiced his curiosity.

Shen Tu Yue regarded Xia Zheng. "Initially, I simply wished to thank my savior and offer some reward. But now that I’ve seen you, I sense you’re not driven by money, so I have another idea."

"Before I became an Awakened, I did crave wealth. But now, I no longer worry about money, so it holds little meaning for me," Xia Zheng replied calmly. He currently had seven or eight hundred thousand in his account, and with his salary, a million a year was assured—not counting other income, such as the Tenin Squad’s year-end bonuses.

Shen Tu Yue regarded Xia Zheng with admiration, tinged with regret. To be so indifferent to money at this age was truly rare—how unfortunate this young man was not his own grandson.

"Then what is your ambition, Xia Zheng?" Shen Tu Yue asked.

Meeting the elder’s earnest gaze, Xia Zheng considered, then replied, "To reclaim Evernight City and restore the Federation’s unity!"

"Excellent!" Shen Tu Yue couldn’t help but slap the bed in excitement, which triggered a fit of coughing. Xia Zheng quickly poured him some water and helped him drink.

When Shen Tu Yue had recovered, his gaze became resolute. "Xia Zheng, I have decided to donate a sum to establish a foundation—The Evernight City Reclamation Foundation. My granddaughter Wanhua will serve as its chair, and you shall be a vice-chairman."

"Ah? Sir, I really don’t know anything about running a foundation," Xia Zheng protested, feeling overwhelmed.

Shen Tu Yue laughed. "Don’t worry, you won’t need to handle daily affairs. The purpose of this foundation is to nurture outstanding young Awakened like yourself. It will provide all kinds of resources to help you grow rapidly. For now, you’ll be the first beneficiary."

"Wow…" Xia Zheng was dazed. Wasn’t this like gaining a powerful professional team—and one with immense financial backing—at his side?