I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping Chapter 2096 - 1350: A Spark

Under the weight of overwhelming public scrutiny, the terrifying plane crash at Seoul Airport prompted the Korea Prosecution Office to issue a comprehensive and extensive statement just one day later, clearly highlighting the officials' deep sense of duty regarding this tragedy.

Though the statement dragged on at length, the root cause of the mishap boiled down to something straightforward.

Just four words.

Mechanical failure.

Or put even more bluntly: pure accident.

Exactly.

Without a doubt, it was merely an accident.

Was there any chance it was deliberate?

Having come out of it unscathed, Jiang Chen barely glanced at the fine points of the crash probe's findings. Once he'd formed his own firm opinion on what happened, the official verdict held little weight anymore.

This isn't paranoia or overthinking on his part; he's simply always excelled at forming his own conclusions and refuses to let external influences dictate his views—otherwise, how could he have stuck to his path for years amid constant mockery as a bootlicker?

Besides that.

The ongoing issues plaguing Jiangcheng Starfire Medical Center serve as stark proof.

Often, the real facts remain hidden from plain sight.

What the masses accept as truth is usually only a sliver of the story, or worse, a complete fabrication.

In the end, society craves "propriety" far more than raw honesty.

Jiangcheng Starfire Medical Center.

From groundbreaking to full operation, the whole build wrapped up in barely over a year, marking yet another feat in modern construction.

Keep in mind.

That plot started as a stalled mess from the Hengsheng Group, where they'd pocketed buyers' cash but hadn't even started laying foundations after years of delays.

And here's the kicker.

The holdup had nothing to do with the builders themselves.

Shen Zhou's outfit draws strength from the labor force. Pay the workers their due on schedule, and those dedicated migrant brothers could probably rig up an elevator straight onto the Himalayas with their skills.

To certain folks, Boss Jiang might scream "sly and scheming," yet there's at least one area where that's not the case.

Has anyone witnessed him squeezing the working class dry?

Quite the opposite—instead, he's consistently gone after big-shot firms like Hippo in cutthroat rivalry, boosting pay and perks for the everyday workers in the field.

In many ways, it echoes that classic tale of taking from the wealthy to aid the needy.

"Mr. Jiang."

Inside the consultation hall, Jiang Chen positioned himself beneath the massive wall mural opposite the main doors.

The mural stretched ten to twenty meters upward, spanning several levels.

Its designs stood out as truly distinctive.

The Starfire Medical Center's director, a respected expert in the field, approached then, positioning himself next to Jiang Chen to join in observing the board etched on the wall.

Indeed.

An actual chessboard.

No bold proclamations of healing kindness filled the space; instead, the full wall transformed into a game board.

A Go board, to be precise.

Featured on it were thirteen black stones and twelve white ones, locked in a tense finale. Jiang Chen lacked real expertise in Go, so he couldn't fully grasp the setup. Still, with it so boldly showcased in the lobby, it had to carry some deeper significance.

"Does this hold any special meaning?"

"An old colleague of mine came up with the concept."

Gazing upward at the mural, the director explained, "Thirteen black stones claim the spirit; twelve white stones protect the vital force. It's a classic Go formation. Applied to medicine, black stands for fate's uncertainty, while white represents the doctors. The deadly illness pulls every last ploy, but white pulls off a stunning recovery. With black at thirteen and white at twelve, it's white's move now, and once white plays, victory is sealed. Displaying this here signals that the ailment has exhausted its arsenal, and when the medical team steps in next, a wondrous healing follows, bringing the patient back to health."

Understanding dawned on Jiang Chen, and he nodded approvingly, "Clever idea."

A flush of embarrassment crossed the director's face, "Yet symbolism only goes so far. We just opened, and already such a major scandal hits."

"In truth, this setup can only battle illnesses, not scheming individuals."

Jiang Chen let out a light laugh.

The director paused in surprise for a beat.

Turning his eyes away, Jiang Chen suggested, "Shall we walk around?"

With a heavy breath, the director cast one last look at the wall's chessboard.

"Mr. Jiang, right this way."

Jiang Chen had personally selected the spot for Jiangcheng Starfire Medical Center, sketching out his vision among countless cities across the nation. This marked his initial visit since snapping up the property in Jiangcheng.

Money talks, as the saying goes.

Where the Hengsheng Group stalled out completely, Xinghuo Medical Center rose swiftly and swung open its doors in little more than a year.

Just as Boss Jiang mentioned to Qing Mei over bowls of noodles the day before, cash resolves most headaches these days—if it doesn't, throwing in more usually does the trick.

As a satellite facility, the Jiangcheng Starfire Medical Center hints at many more to come nationwide. Even as a branch, it matches the Kyoto main hub in scale, layout, surroundings, and equipment. That's all down to the heavy backing from Boss Jiang, the chief investor, covering everything from clinics to wards—wide-open spaces, spotless, orderly, serene, and... somewhat empty.

That makes sense, of course.

Before this, Princess Cao's efforts were spread thin, and the Starfire Medical Center's fame hadn't caught on yet. Only a lucky handful stumbled upon it, similar to how top healers and remedies often stay under the radar.

On top of that, Jiangcheng Starfire had barely launched when the suicide incident tainted its image, smothering any chance for word to spread.

"Over there... that's the spot where Ma Qiujie leaped from."

The director let out a weary sigh.

They stood in the oncology ward's hallway, a window looming at the far end.

The Ma Qiujie the director referenced was clearly the senior woman who'd taken her life lately, aged over sixty. At that stage in life, even minor falls demand care, so plunging from the eighth story was fatal. Though it was a medical facility, no aid could save her after the fall—she perished on impact.