Yu Ming reclined in his seat at the plaintiff's table like a man waiting to be thanked for showing up. Behind him, six lawyers formed a miniature war council, three silver-haired litigators from Yue Group's legacy firm, two data-law specialists from the East Court, and a junior who looked like she hadn't slept in a week.
Their table was... well, chaos. Binders everywhere, tablets, printed portfolios with those little sticky tabs, law books that looked like they'd been through a paper shredder. The whole setup screamed "we have more money than God and we're not afraid to use it."
Across the aisle, three figures entered with none of that noise.
Han Chen, in his signature legal black suit and white shirt with no tie, walked like he had all the time in the world.
Beside him, Hye Won looked severe as hell in gray, tablet already in hand, eyes scanning the courtroom's tech setup like she was planning something. And at the end, Yue Lan sat straight-backed in formal black, completely still except for this single pen she kept rolling between her fingers.
The judge glanced up from her papers. "Counselor Chen, I know you're... relatively new to this field, but is this your entire representation?"
Han didn't even look up from his screen. "Yes, Your Honor. NovaGen prefers efficiency."
A few chuckles from Yu Ming's side. Real cute.
"Your Honor," Jian Li—Yu Ming's lead counsel—stood up after the initial proceedings, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "We'll begin by establishing the character and credibility of the defendant, Ms. Yue Lan. Given the... irregularities surrounding NovaGen's funding and practices, this seems rather urgent."
She turned toward Yue Lan with this look—like she was staring at a criminal or something. "Ms. Yue Lan," Jian Li continued, tone all fake-conversational, "you've presented yourself as some champion of innovation, a visionary in biotechnology. Compelling narrative, wouldn't you say?"
Yue Lan met her stare dead-on, expression calm as still water. "I believe my record speaks for itself."
"Oh, it certainly does," Jian Li said, smile thin as paper. "A record that includes some... let's call them unconventional methods. Methods that raise serious ethical questions." She let that hang there like smoke.
"Objection," Han Chen cut in, voice smooth as silk. "Counselor Li's engaging in character assassination, not legal inquiry. These accusations are unsubstantiated and completely irrelevant to the matter at hand."
"Withdrawn for the moment, Your Honor," Jian Li said with this dismissive wave. "We'll substantiate them shortly. But let's start simple, Ms. Yue Lan. Can you confirm that NovaGen's initial funding came, in part, from sources with ties to... less than reputable organizations?"
Yue Lan's eyes narrowed—just slightly. "NovaGen's funding has always been secured through legitimate channels, with full transparency and adherence to all applicable regulations."
"Transparency," Jian Li practically purred. "Fascinating word. Perhaps you could explain the series of offshore accounts and shell corporations used to funnel those initial investments? Accounts that, as we'll demonstrate, have been linked to activities well outside the bounds of ethical research."
Murmurs rippled through the courtroom. Yu Ming's satisfied smile was practically glowing.
Han Chen was up again, voice harder now. "Your Honor, this is exactly the smear campaign we anticipated. The plaintiff's attempting to poison the well with innuendo and unsubstantiated allegations. We demand that Counselor Li provide concrete evidence for these claims or cease this line of questioning immediately."
The judge leaned forward, expression stern. "Counselor Li, you're treading dangerous ground here. You'll provide evidence to support these assertions, or you'll confine your questioning to matters directly relevant to the case."
Jian Li inclined her head—acknowledging the warning but her eyes stayed locked on Yue Lan like a predator. "Of course, Your Honor. We're merely laying groundwork. Let's move to another area of concern. Ms. Yue Lan, you're aware of the... controversies surrounding some of NovaGen's research, are you not? Allegations of unethical experimentation?"
This time, Yue Lan didn't hesitate. Her voice cut through the courtroom like a blade. "NovaGen adheres to the highest ethical standards in all research. All procedures are rigorously reviewed and approved by independent ethics boards. These aren't 'allegations,' Counselor Li—they're desperate attempts by our competitors to undermine our progress."
"Desperate attempts, or legitimate concerns?" Jian Li shot back, skepticism dripping from every word. "We've obtained records, Ms. Yue Lan—records suggesting a... disregard for established protocols. A willingness to push boundaries regardless of potential consequences."
She held up a tablet, screen showing redacted documents. "Do you deny the existence of these records?"
Yue Lan didn't flinch. "I deny the implication that NovaGen has ever acted unethically. Those records, as you yourself admit, are heavily redacted. They're being presented without context, without any attempt to understand the complexities of scientific research."
She paused, then her voice gained strength. "Furthermore, I find it deeply ironic that you, Counselor Li—representing a company that's engaged in a pattern of demonstrably harmful and obstructive behavior—would attempt to question our ethics. It's a transparent attempt to deflect from your own wrongdoing."
Something shifted in the room. Yue Lan was reading this woman like an open book—emotions, thought processes, everything of course with the help of Han Chen.
Jian Li pressed on, but her voice lost some of that earlier confidence. "Are you saying, Ms. Yue Lan, that these concerns are entirely without merit? That there's no basis for these allegations?"
"I'm saying," Yue Lan replied, voice ringing with conviction, "that these allegations are a distortion of truth—a deliberate attempt to smear our reputation and distract from the very real harm your client has inflicted upon NovaGen. We will not be intimidated by these tactics. We will not be silenced."
"Counselor Li," the judge said firmly, "you've had ample opportunity to make your case. Any further questions for the witness?"
Jian Li hesitated, gathering herself. "A few, Your Honor, regarding the alleged damages suffered by NovaGen. But perhaps," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "we can move on to the defense's case. They seem eager to present their... version of events."
The judge nodded slowly. "Very well. Counselor Chen, you may proceed."
Han Chen rose. He stepped away from the defense table—subtle movement that drew every eye in the room.
"Your Honor, let's address the foundation of the plaintiff's argument: that NovaGen's funding is somehow irregular, unethical, or sourced through disreputable means. I find it necessary to remind the court that every cent of NovaGen's founding capital was independently audited, verified, and reported to relevant financial authorities—both domestic and foreign—under applicable legal frameworks."
[After extensive back-and-forth]
"This trial isn't about ethics," Han Chen continued. "It's about envy. It's about a client who watched a sovereign, compliant, and legally bulletproof institution rise from the ashes of a division he once hoped to control. But hope isn't ownership. Jealousy isn't law. And innuendo isn't evidence."
"Mr. Chen, your arguments regarding the plaintiff's underlying motivations have been duly noted," the judge said.
But Han Chen wasn't finished. "Thank you, Your Honor. With the court's permission, the defense would like to submit newly unsealed documentation into the record—evidence that directly rebuts the plaintiff's claims and reveals the broader strategy behind this lawsuit."
"You may proceed, Counselor. But make it count."
"Thank you, Your Honor," he said, voice resonant and clear. "While the plaintiff has attempted to paint a picture of ethical breaches and financial impropriety, we'll demonstrate that this lawsuit isn't about seeking justice. It's about something far more insidious."
He paused—let it sink in.
"Retaliation. And an attempt to suppress competition through malicious legal tactics."
You could feel the tension ratchet up on the other side.
"Your Honor," Han Chen continued, "we submit Exhibits A through J into the record—nine separate lawsuits filed against NovaGen. All dismissed. All filed within seventy-two hours of major financial milestones: Series C funding, FDA trials, merger talks."
Screens across the courtroom lit up. The sequence unfolded like a time-lapse: docket numbers, dismissal orders, timestamps. Each one a failed attempt to strangle NovaGen in its cradle.
Then came Exhibit K.
The screen changed to show a mosaic of internal messages: stall them till Q2, trigger their burn rate, leak the redundancies. Metadata tags linked the communications to Horizon servers, sent during the company's final months. The access logs? Administrator-level credentials that had belonged to Yu Ming.
"Objection, Your Honor. These are selectively presented snippets, taken out of context. They don't prove malicious intent," came the protest.
After some legal wrangling—
"These communications," Han continued, "originated from Horizon's enterprise systems when it was still operating under Yue Group. During that time, Mr. Yu Ming held a directorial position with unrestricted access."
Yu Ming's lead attorney stood, frowning. "Irrelevant. Internal records. Privileged and beyond the scope of this case."
Before the judge could respond, Hye Won rose. "If it pleases the court," she said calmly.
The judge nodded.
Her voice was gentle, but the accusation cut like a sword. "We'd like to refer the court to Horizon's 2019 IT Governance Policy, signed into effect by the then-director—Mr. Yu Ming."
A clause appeared on the monitors: All executive-level communications pertaining to asset liquidation or inter-subsidiary disruption are to be retained in perpetuity.
"And here's his signature," she added. It glowed in sharp resolution at the bottom of the screen.
Yu Ming's lawyer froze. Sat down.
The judge's expression shifted—routine interest becoming something sharper.
"Defense," she said, "explain the origin of these materials."
Han Chen rose. "Your Honor, if I may," he said, turning slightly toward Yue Lan. "Ms. Yue Lan, as Horizon's final CEO, can attest to the circumstances surrounding retention of these digital records."
The judge nodded. "Ms. Yue Lan, please state your understanding."
Yue Lan stood. "As Horizon's final CEO," she said clearly, "I retained authority over all non-expunged digital records under Section 11-B of the company's dissolution terms. These backups were obtained from our former IT vendor per compliance protocol."
She looked toward Han Chen, who walked to the bench and handed over a single-page document.
Yu Ming's lead attorney scoffed quietly. "Dissolution terms are hardly a blanket waiver of privilege, Your Honor. They govern Horizon's wind-down, not its interactions with external entities."
The clerk examined the seal. The judge's eyebrows lifted slightly. The National Archives Bureau seal shimmered on the header.
Han Chen continued, "Authenticity has been verified, Your Honor. You'll also find a secondary affidavit from a digital security firm confirming forensic integrity. All reviewed under subpoena oversight."
Hye Won stepped in to close the net. "Additionally, Your Honor, an anonymous whistleblower submitted corroborating files through our encrypted tip line—cross-validated against Yue Group's internal audit logs."
She paused, letting the complexity settle in the judge's mind.
"In total," Hye Won said, "these communications were obtained through three legal channels: corporate dissolution oversight, third-party vendor archives, and internal whistleblower protections. All admissible under business records exceptions and federal compliance statutes."
Yu Ming sat stone-faced now. The smirk was gone. The judge leaned back, fingers steepled.
"Unless the plaintiff can challenge the provenance of this material," she said evenly, "this court is prepared to issue sanctions for procedural abuse and consider a referral to the Securities Bureau."
The silence could've drawn blood.
Han Chen glanced at Yue Lan, then stood again. "Your Honor, we're also prepared to address the broader harm done to NovaGen by these repeated attacks."
He turned to face Yu Ming directly. "We'll accept a formal apology and financial reparations. Or we proceed with obstruction charges."
Yu Ming's jaw tightened.
Han's voice hardened. "This isn't just aggressive litigation—it's vexatious and abusive. The timing, the volume, the language in these messages—textbook tortious interference and regulatory harassment."
The judge nodded slowly. "Plaintiff has seventy-two hours to respond."
Yu Ming's lawyers were already packing up. One muttered something under his breath. None of them looked at their client.
***
The settlement came quietly—sealed documents, undisclosed figures, joint press release written by too many lawyers. But behind all that legal language was a clear concession: Yu Ming stepped down from his major corporate roles, issued a formal apology to NovaGen shareholders, and transferred a significant portion of his equity to a neutral trust that eventually benefited NovaGen's expansion fund.
In exchange, NovaGen agreed to withdraw criminal complaints and halt their push for Securities Bureau sanctions. Nobody said the word "blackmail," but, well... both sides knew when the stakes had gone way beyond the courtroom.
Inside NovaGen, the real work was just beginning. Three months after the settlement, human trials of the Null Variant resumed under accelerated protocols—now protected by a sovereign ethics board and funded through a wave of new investments. The company's value soared. International biotech journals speculated about gene-regenerative thresholds, but NovaGen said little.
What leaked later—through whispered academic chatter—was that the first recipient had been a quadriplegic after an accident. After a week, she moved her fingers. By the end of the month, she walked unaided. No formal publication ever followed, but footage circulated quietly among regulators, investors, and competitors. Enhancement with neural fortification effects.
NovaGen didn't confirm anything. But the military attendees—the healthy ones among the recipients—felt like they had the brute strength of martial artists at dark Jin level. The project soon drew more than scientific attention, though not initially. It would, after reports of the experimental results got out.
Martial cultivation was accepted, but biotech-based enhancement? That blurred the lines. The Bureau for Martial-Scientific Security and Sectarian-Seal Enforcement took notice simply because of the predicted enhancement effects in humans.
Meanwhile, Yue Lan participated in various summits and conferences with research teams. Dr. Xia's name was notably absent, but there were mentions of someone important contributing to the project. Hye Won hosted briefings across different biotech firms. Han Chen returned to his parents and assisted with their company's major business growth and expansion during that period.
Yu Ming, now stripped of much of his leverage, was under strict orders from his father to stay in the public eye and was shifted to other territories. But that didn't mean the father-son duo wasted any time cursing Yue Lan after seeing her company's growth and reports claiming to be the industry's first genetic enhancement breakthrough.
And somewhere in a high-security NovaGen facility, a second trial protocol began—this time with military-grade clearance and no leaks. Sophia and the research teams had plenty to study for years from what Han Chen had gifted them.