Hank had never feared death before. He believed that as long as he lived well and fully, he could face the end withposure.


    By his own reasoning, with his immense wealth and meticulous attention to his health, any medical issue would be addressed immediately. Under such circumstances, living past 80 seemed entirely feasible. As long as he reached that milestone, he would be content.


    But he never imagined that, despite his careful efforts, he would fall prey to a formidable enemy—pancreatic cancer.


    Now, his only thought was to see charlie Wade as soon as possible and have him cure the disease, no matter what it took.


    Without hesitation, he contacted his crew, instructing them to refuel the private jet andplete preflight checks.<h3 style="background-color:DodgerBlue">


    He left the hospital immediately and drove straight to the airport.<fn7719> N?w ?ovel chapt?rs are published on find?novel</fn7719>


    Hank had never been this busy in his life. Just two days ago, he had flown to China, only to return overnight. Afternding, he spent several hours undergoing medical tests, and now he had to fly back once more.


    He calcted the time carefully. It was early morning in China, meaning he would arrive by evening. That would be perfect for arranging a dinner meeting with charlie Wade—naturally, at Tianxiang Mansion.


    On his way to the airport, he felt an urge to call Matt Finkelstein, hoping Matt could connect him with Steve and put in a good word on his behalf.


    However, realizing it was still early morning in China, he hesitated. Calling Matt wouldn’t be an issue, but Steve was likely still asleep. Disturbing him now might only provoke his irritation.


    So, he decided to board the ne first and wait until they had been in the air for three or four hours. By then, it would be morning in Aurous Hill, and he could use the satellite phone to call Matt.


    Just over an hourter, his private jet took off from New York’s Kennedy Airport, ascending into the golden hues of dawn.


    Fortunately, Hank was wealthy enough to have a private jet that could fly directly to Aurous Hill. Otherwise, the journey would take over 16 hours, factoring inyovers and refueling.


    He hadn’t slept all night, and though it was already early morning, he still didn’t feel drowsy. In his situation, who could? Yet, despite his inability to sleep, his body was utterly exhausted—his eyelids growing heavier with every passing moment.


    He tried closing his eyes to rest, but the moment he did, he imagined cancer cells spreading relentlessly inside him. The thought filled him with despair and helplessness.


    Once the ne settled into its cruising altitude over the ocean, he couldn’t resist picking up the phone and calling Matt Finkelstein.


    At that moment, Matt was enjoying breakfast in his hotel room, lying back infort. Living in China had given him an unprecedented sense of security.


    Not long ago, when public outrage against him was at its peak, he had been unable to sleep at all, constantly fearing assassination.


    He had even avoided sleeping while aboard his private jet, despite being thousands of feet in the air.


    Lately, several private nes in the U.S. had suffered strange idents, colliding with various objects mid-flight. He had been terrified that his own aircraft might suffer the same fate, leaving him dead with no trace.


    In such a scenario, it would perfectly fulfill an old Chinese saying—not even a body left to bury.


    But ever since he arrived in China with Steve, he had been sleeping soundly. Every night, the moment his head hit the pillow, he drifted off effortlessly, only waking at dawn.


    His sleep quality had never been better.