Hey! The Criminal Assistance System Can Even Be Used Like This? 94

He believed he’d found a way to avoid punishment—the principle of “too many to blame”—and defiantly urged Xu Zhizhi to bring in everyone else involved.

Xu Zhizhi smiled faintly, saying, “No, I’m not bringing anyone else. I’m only targeting you. Based on your level of slander, you’re looking at at least seven days of administrative detention. While you’re detained, this matter will be reported to your family. I wonder how your wife and children will react?”

“I’ll also post the whole story on my Weibo, letting the whole country know what kind of person you are. Among the people I’ve helped before, there’s a partner from a renowned Beijing law firm, Shulin Law Firm, who can help me sue you pro bono, ensuring you won’t have any peace for at least two years.”

“I’ll also file a complaint with your property management company to get you fired.”

“I’m only targeting you; I don’t care about anyone else.”

Xu Zhizhi clasped her hands, speaking slowly, her eyes filled with a condescending disdain and mockery. It was as if she was saying, “You’ve caught my attention, and I’m only going after you.”

Xu Zhizhi observed the man’s face changing color, especially when she mentioned his job, which he valued highly, and his public image. He did have a wife and children, living in a sizable city in another province. While Xu Zhizhi wasn’t a household name, her influence was undeniable. Especially when Xu Zhizhi stated that she was only targeting him, ignoring everyone else, his expression shifted dramatically. The fear wasn’t of being alone in facing consequences but of unequal treatment. Xu Zhizhi targeting only him meant her full energy would be focused solely on him.

The defiant look on Wang Wu’s face vanished completely. He had thought that by intimidating her, she, mindful of her reputation, would simply settle the matter. But now it seemed she was out to completely ruin him!

Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Would apologizing now be too humiliating?

Xu Zhizhi adjusted the hem of her dress; she’d changed into a more beautiful one before coming out. Looking at her dress, a happy smile spread across her face. It’s true that when you dress well, your mood improves.

The police officer said, “It seems like a reconciliation is impossible.”

“No, no, no… I’m willing to reconcile; I’m willing to publicly apologize to Xu Zhizhi!” Wang Wu hurriedly interjected, abandoning all pretense of dignity.

The police officers exchanged glances. This man was unpredictable, only scared now. Everything Xu Zhizhi had said were legitimate methods for handling the situation; they only needed to wait.

Xu Zhizhi chuckled, “Oh… what was your name again? I can’t remember! Did you think I was trying to persuade you to apologize? Tsk tsk tsk, so naive! I was informing you of what you’re about to face.”

Turning to the police, Xu Zhizhi said, “We don’t accept a reconciliation. Proceed with the administrative detention.”

“You!” Wang Wu’s face turned crimson, his chest heaving rapidly. He had genuinely believed Xu Zhizhi’s lengthy explanation was an attempt at reconciliation.

The police officer nodded. “Since there’s no reconciliation, we’ll process this according to procedure and issue an administrative penalty. And then you can take it to court afterwards.”

Ignoring Wang Wu, they took him away to record a statement and review the evidence. His fate was sealed because he’d run into a formidable opponent. An ordinary girl would probably still be explaining herself online, trying to make the cyberbullies see reason. Reporting the incident would likely be a matter for tomorrow, and she would be suffocated by Wang Wu’s unreasonable attitude.

The two young police officers knew Xu Zhizhi’s online persona, but they didn’t expect her to be the same in real life. She handles things herself, never bothering others.

Watching the police take Wang Wu away, who was still protesting his willingness to apologize, Yun Ziwei smiled.

“Hahaha, people like that deserve this!” Yun Ziwei laughed heartily. “Xu Zhizhi’s personality hasn’t changed a bit.” “However, most people can’t replicate this. Most people have avoidant personality traits. In such situations, they feel embarrassed, overwhelmed by the trouble of dealing with the problem and the difficulty of defending their rights, ultimately choosing to give in. They then bear the brunt of cyberbullying alone, falling into rumination, wondering if they did something wrong. Even with strong emotional regulation, it’s hard to process such a huge amount of malice. Accumulated negative emotions reach a threshold, leading to depression. And it can even lead to suicide. Even the strongest person needs years to recover from a cyberbullying attack by tens of thousands of people. It’s a blow to the psyche each time you think about it.”

“Xu Zhizhi’s resilience is because she’s been cyberbullied before, combined with her tough personality. She’s seen enough bad people and experienced enough malice.”

After her laughter subsided, Yun Ziwei sighed, patting Xu Zhizhi’s hand. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. After preserving the evidence, I’ll contact the website to have the posts deleted.”

“Yun Jie, I want to shoot that movie, the one with the low pay,” Xu Zhizhi said after a moment of thought, turning to Yun Ziwei.

She didn’t have any scripts at the moment, and she didn’t want to film those bad scripts, even if they offered good pay. She came to the entertainment industry to make money, and she worked hard to make money from acting. But she had received honors and recognition, discovering a certain charm in acting. Therefore, she didn’t want to ruin herself.

Yun Ziwei pondered for a moment. “Then go ahead. ‘The Tracker’ is currently very popular; I’ll get you some more commercial activities and endorsements to make up for the lost pay.”

Small productions are less strict, allowing for more interspersed endorsement activities. ‘The Tracker’ boosted Xu Zhizhi’s reputation and value, earning her more resources. Taking a break would also help keep audiences from tiring of her.

Xu Zhizhi linked arms with Yun Ziwei, rubbing her head against her arm. “Yun Jie, you’re so kind.”

Feng Jie, standing nearby, looked envious; she too wanted a cuddle from the beautiful woman.

“Alright, alright, we should go, get some rest, and contact the film crew tomorrow,” Yun Ziwei ruffled Xu Zhizhi’s hair, trying to calm her down.

Xu Zhizhi sat up straight, smiling, revealing her pearly white teeth.

Outside, Wang Wu pleaded incessantly. The property manager’s face was cold. “Even if Xu Zhizhi doesn’t pursue this, you won’t be reinstated. Our company doesn’t tolerate employees with poor morals who fabricate facts and slander residents.”

“I didn’t mean to; I was just bored. I was so bored sitting there alone at night!” Wang Wu pulled at the property manager’s sleeve. “I have a wife, children, and elderly parents to support. Without this job, I have no way to live!”

His voice was pitiful, making him seem quite unfortunate. If uninformed people saw this, they might think Xu Zhizhi and the property manager were bullying him.

The police officers were unfazed; this wasn’t something they could handle, proceeding directly with the administrative detention. In recent years, with the internet’s development, cyberbullying incidents have become increasingly common; thus, there are new regulations concerning the punishment of cyberbullying and slander. If Wang Wu had said it privately, nobody would care. But he posted it on a public forum, and the post was reposted and commented on over five hundred times, directly involving slander. This met the criteria for administrative detention, and the two other participants would also receive warnings.

Xu Zhizhi watched from the side, gleefully observing. She wasn’t going to leave immediately; she would wait until he was actually detained before leaving. If he dared to do this, he had to bear the consequences.

Seeing Xu Zhizhi, Wang Wu started crying, rushing towards her. “Xu Zhizhi, please, let me kneel, just let me go! I was just talking. Those who reposted and insulted you are the real culprits; go sue them!”

As he spoke, his legs buckled, and he was about to kneel. The police officers didn’t have time to react, and Xu Zhizhi remained unresponsive.

Just then, Feng Jie rushed forward, grabbed Wang Wu by the back of his collar, and half-lifted him. Wang Wu’s remaining words were muffled by his clothes choking his throat. He was in an awkward position—his legs bent but his body straight—his eyes wide with terror.

The police officer, who was about to stand, sat back down, pretending not to see.

Yun Ziwei and the property manager’s mouths dropped open in astonishment at this scene.

Feng Jie held Wang Wu aloft, scoffing. “Who are you? Trying to morally blackmail my employer? Don’t push me.”

Wang Wu tried to be defiant and continue to kneel, but Feng Jie regularly did weight training, and her muscles were strong without any protein powder, holding him firmly in place. After a dozen seconds, Wang Wu gave up and stood obediently to the side. He didn’t dare to attack Feng Jie because she clearly knew martial arts, and she could easily send him to the hospital if she fought back. Ultimately, he remained silent, though his eyes held a dark resentment, seemingly plotting something.

Xu Zhizhi lowered her eyes, thinking, *You’ll be spending the next few days in detention, and I’ll make sure you become famous online.*

At 2 AM, Xu Zhizhi and her companions left. The property manager escorted them home, hoping Xu Zhizhi would refrain from blaming the property management company or its staff in her Weibo posts. Xu Zhizhi didn’t respond but wouldn’t trouble ordinary workers.

After seeing them off, Xu Zhizhi turned to her computer. Now it was time for the others.

She opened the program she had prepared, with the data already recorded, and began operating quickly. Soon, a tiny, transparent window appeared, following the accounts she had recorded yesterday, catching their comments, quickly controlling their phones, and copying the messages into their chat boxes. As long as they were online, she could do this.

Countless chat boxes appeared before Xu Zhizhi, and she clicked send. Soon, their comments from the forum appeared at the top of all their chat windows. Xu Zhizhi didn’t filter ordinary comments; she chose only the most extreme ones—sexist insults, slander, and various abusive and sarcastic remarks.

Xu Zhizhi’s eyes were cold as she clicked send, then quickly cleared all traces. A small punishment was enough. She wasn’t overly moralistic about small things. If they could say such things to her, then let them say those things to their clients, girlfriends, parents, and friends. Given their ease in making those remarks, it shouldn’t be a problem.

This program was similar to the previous one she used to steal accounts and publish explicit content and borrow money. The operation was slightly different, ensuring no trace was left. A hacker’s skills were indeed useful; it was like a magic weapon that swept through the internet.

After confirming that all traces were erased, Xu Zhizhi sighed in admiration for the System’s skill recommendations. Thankfully, she was in control of the skills, not the System using her hands.

After completing all this, Xu Zhizhi washed up and went to bed.

Shulin’s reputation proved useful. Upon hearing about it, they immediately began deleting posts and banning further discussion of the matter. For ordinary people, this is difficult to achieve. Forums that tolerate slander often show bias. Their swift action demonstrated their awareness of Shulin’s influence and Xu Zhizhi’s connection to the powerful Fu family behind Shulin.

The remaining traces were all reported to Weibo for deletion. Finally, she posted on Weibo, summarizing the incident and informing her followers of the outcome. The post immediately attracted many fans’ attention. Xu Zhizhi’s popularity was high to begin with; this clarification quickly landed her in the top ten trending topics. Jiang Yuchuan immediately retweeted it, and his large, active fanbase quickly propelled it to the top.

The big V who posted the initial Weibo post saw the backlash in the morning. He quickly deleted his account and fled, fearing the repercussions in the real world.

When Xu Zhizhi woke up, the matter was almost over. She couldn’t wait to see how excited those people would be when they saw their comments exposed to everyone. They enjoyed verbally abusing others, so let’s see how much damage their words could do.

Xu Zhizhi brushed her teeth, revealing a radiant smile.

Wang Kun was an insurance salesman with good performance. If he maintained his current momentum, his income would double in the second half of the year. He had plans: once his salary doubled, he’d buy a house and marry his girlfriend.

On his way to work, he opened his usual social media app to check the previous day’s posts. He had commented, insulting the woman, believing that such people corrupted society’s morality. He used the banner of correcting society’s values. Of course, he was also jealous of her; she could afford such a luxurious apartment without effort. The rent was more than double his current salary.

He checked the posts today, hoping for more information, such as her phone number or social media accounts, so he could send private messages. But he found that all the posts had disappeared. The smile on his face vanished, regretting the loss of his source of amusement.

At that moment, his WeChat notification popped up. The message was from his boss. He saw the furious message, his heart sinking. He quickly clicked to read it and found that all the comments he had posted on the forum the previous night had been sent to his boss.

He panicked because he had called her a shameless gold digger, a slut. His direct supervisor was a woman. The message was blunt, stating that he was fired and didn’t need to come to the office.

His hands trembled because he had also sent these messages to the top five people on his contact list—his relatives and… his soon-to-be wife. He couldn’t help but open his girlfriend’s chatbox, ready to explain, when she sent a breakup message. After typing his reply, he only received a red exclamation mark, meaning his message was blocked.

His face turned pale, and he felt unsteady on the subway. Then came anger. He had been drinking with friends the night before and was slightly drunk, but he couldn’t have been that muddled. He wanted to report it; he needed to prove that he didn’t send those messages! That someone had used his WeChat.

Angry, he got off at the next stop and stood on the platform, his expression grave. He realized something: those comments were the ones he posted on the forum. How would he explain it to the police? How could he prove he didn’t send them in the middle of the night? The thought sent chills down his spine.

His phone rang; it was his boss. A cold voice came from the other end, “Come to the office.”

A smile appeared on the man’s face, but the next sentence froze him. “To discuss your dismissal. There’s no room for negotiation; you know that reporting you to the police would only result in a warning, and dismissal is already lenient.”

The woman continued, “I know you’ve been spreading rumors that I slept my way to the top and called me an old hag. Well, now you’ll see what a real old hag can do.”

The man heard the click as she hung up, standing frozen in place, regaining his senses only after a long while. Words hurt; malice chills the heart. At that moment, he finally understood what suffering truly meant.

This happened to many others who had insulted Xu Zhizhi. Their words became daggers aimed at themselves. Even if some people didn’t mind and believed their explanations, the image of those who offered explanations had irrevocably crumbled in their hearts.

Xu Zhizhi didn’t know if these people would realize the harm they caused, and she didn’t care; she needed to focus on her meeting with the director.

Yun Ziwei worked quickly, setting up a meeting with the director of the film that morning. They met at a coffee shop. Xu Zhizhi was genuinely interested in this film with many plot twists. She was very curious about “The Last Truth.” The film’s theme was interesting: it seemingly belonged to the suspense and crime genre, yet its core theme was against cyberbullying.

The director’s first words to Xu Zhizhi were, “I can get you the Best Actress award at the Hong Kong Film Awards.”

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