Wealth sparkles with golden light, attracting those lost in the fog of poverty!" "They may not be able to attain wealth that shines enough for them, but even a little can change their lives." These words were spoken by Simon. In just a few days, the headlines of the entire Sebin knew that there was someone who could quickly turn loose change into significant sums, and it was profitable. A large amount of loose change continuously rolled into whole sums in Simon's pockets. It wasn't just the headlines; even some newsstands and retail stores were doing the same. Three percent profit, without any effort, without any risk. Perhaps to many, this profit seemed like just three cents. However, when the principal became large enough, it would turn into a substantial figure—100 dollars, 1,000 dollars. Just give the money to Simon, and then retrieve even more, it was that simple. According to the federal laws regarding wages and working hours, as well as specific adjustments in regional laws, an ordinary worker in Sebin earned around two to three hundred dollars per month. If the nature of the job was more dangerous, the salary might be higher, but such job types were relatively rare. The salary was about the same. Ten dollars were already equivalent to a worker's daily wage. But in Simon's case, no labor needed to be paid; just give him the money, and you could get this amount. Some people indeed looked down on it, but many found it attractive. A large amount of loose change began to gather and appear in an organized manner in Mr. Fox's laundry shop. Then, one day a week later, when Simon pushed his handcart into Mr. Fox's controlled laundry shop, two individuals wearing black woolen coats and formal wear, along with waistcoats and white shirts, appeared in front of him. This also made him understand why Mr. Fox said he didn't look like a federal government official. It was because he lacked the outfit that could be seen through at first glance, and the arrogance on the faces of these people who wished everyone knew their specific identities. "Simon?" The person blocking the handcart casually shouted Simon's name, then opened his coat to reveal the wallet hanging in the pocket inside. Half of the wallet was inside the coat's inner pocket, preventing it from falling out casually. The other half, with the identification, hung outside. Those from the Federal Bureau of Investigation did the same, thinking it was cool. As for why there was such a foolish idea, it was probably related to some popular movies in the past couple of years. Actors doing it looked cool indeed, but bringing these things into reality would only make people think it was foolish. "I'm a investigator from the Federal Tax Bureau, need your cooperation...," with no room for negotiation, the tone was not just firm but also had an edge. Simon smiled and asked, "Should I raise my hands?" In fact, from the beginning, he knew he would have to deal with these people, and not just this time; it would be an ongoing affair. He just didn't expect to be targeted so quickly. This game was like that. The golden light of wealth not only attracted those who thirsted for some benefits in the glow but also some "bad guys" full of desire for wealth. His words sounded like mockery to the two investigators. Generally, people always associated raising hands with firearms. Contrary to the obvious, these two investigators didn't have the qualifications to carry weapons. In the Beiler Federal Tax Bureau system, investigators were the lowest-level employees, far below the "inspectors" and "special agents" above them, although many wondered why the tax bureau needed "special agents." The guy behind Simon grabbed his wrist, and the other hand grabbed the back of his neck, pushing him against the wall, giving him a taste of something formidable. Passersby on the street immediately moved away to avoid getting involved. Some left, some stayed to watch the excitement. After the investigator who spoke to Simon showed his credentials again and dispersed the crowd, he pushed Simon's handcart, and with his companion, took Simon and his handcart into the alley by the roadside. In a somewhat embarrassed state, Simon rubbed his cheekbones. When his face was pressed against the wall, it touched the wall, somewhat painful, and probably a bit bruised, but he didn't mind much. One investigator was rummaging through his handcart, opening the cart's box, taking out some old clothes, as if searching for something. The other person asked, "Recently, you've been close to Mr. Fox. Are you working for him?" He also took out a small notebook and a pen, seemingly ready to record something at any moment. In fact, the federal tax bureau had long had its eye on people like Mr. Fox. However, this "watching" didn't necessarily mean they had to bring people like Mr. Fox to justice. Where there is light, there will always be darkness. This isn't a characteristic of darkness; it's a characteristic of light. If there were no Simon, perhaps this somewhat strange but socially needed balance could be maintained for some time until a new local tax bureau director took office, or the current director needed some achievements. Then they might trouble Mr. Fox. The problem is, now there's Simon, Mr. Fox, and Simon's strange actions are accelerating certain things out of control. Capturing an embezzler and tax evader, with a massive amount involved, was undoubtedly a significant contribution in the federal tax system, providing an opportunity for promotion. However, if Mr. Fox was allowed to escape the quagmire... Nobody would praise the current local tax bureau director. They would only suspect some behind-the-scenes deals. Moreover, some possible personnel changes appeared within the Sebin Federal Tax Bureau, and some people couldn't sit still. As soon as these signs appeared, the local federal tax bureau immediately took action. After clarifying Simon's identity and what he had done recently, they roughly figured out the issue between him and Mr. Fox. In the eyes of these experienced inspectors, Simon was just a lucky guy. He accidentally found a way to make money, and if used as a breakthrough, it was very likely to directly take down Mr. Fox and his people. But the first thing they had to do was figure out what Mr. Fox and Simon were really doing, whether it matched what they thought. Hence, this "attack" occurred. Facing the fierce investigators, Simon always maintained a smile. A smile could bridge the gap between people and relax their vigilance. "Can I know your name?" He faced the investigator and sneered, suddenly took a step forward, and punched Simon in the stomach, making his stomach churn, with a feeling of nausea. "You don't need to know my name. Just answer the questions, understand?" The investigator grabbed Simon's hair, making him bend over with his face up, looking at himself. "I'm asking you again, what transactions do you have with Fox, and how did his money enter the bank..." The muscles on Simon's face trembled, slowly straightening up, and the smile reappeared on his face. He gestured with his right hand like a pistol under his chin, looking at the investigator. "Do you have a gun? Give me a bullet to taste..." His words made the investigator unable to react for a short time. Then it was embarrassment, but when he met Simon's gaze, it was like being poured with a bucket of cold water, completely extinguishing the fire. Bright and transparent eyes carried a kind of expectation, along with the content of his tone and a bit of chilling madness, making the investigator's heart contract suddenly. He could clearly feel that this person had gone mad! He subconsciously swallowed a mouthful of saliva, moved his gaze away, but then turned back, staring at Simon, pushing him away with a stern shout, "Answer the question!" He was actually a bit timid, but he used this way to cover up his timidity, while keeping a distance from Simon. He didn't want to reveal his true feelings to a big kid who had just left school for a few years. Simon, as if nothing had happened, slightly raised his head, facing the not-so-wide sky above the alley, revealing the brightest smile. "Can I know your name, sir?"