My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 56 Visitors to the Pentagon

As Qin Han listened to Renee's long list of "crimes," a hint of admiration flashed in his eyes.

Indeed, some people are born for movies.

Her evaluations were not far from the summaries of various film critics later on.

He picked up a red pen and wrote a few lines on the whiteboard: [Sound and image synchronization], [Realistic feedback of impact], [Reject the overuse of slow motion].

"Andrew, write this down. When you meet with Ridley Scott later, tell him not to make the same mistake."

He then turned to Bruce Lee, who was sitting on the sofa, and said, "Master, that Japanese man is stronger than I imagined."

"I originally thought it was just a role to play, but now it seems it won't be that easy."

Upon hearing this, Bruce Lee immediately became interested: "Han, starting tomorrow, the special training will be intensified!"

……

The next morning, a brand-new Bentley T1 pulled up in front of the villa.

Fred Weintraub rolled down the car window, looked at Qin Han whose arms were covered in bruises, and couldn't help but whistle:

"Looks like Bruce's really showing you no mercy, Qin. Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital first before tonight's dinner?"

"You got a new car, Fred?" Qin Han, who had just finished training, grimaced and gasped. "Forget it, it's just some minor scratches, nothing serious."

"Yes, I have to thank you for 'giving' me this car," Fred laughed. "Seven o'clock tonight, my private residence. Friends from the Pentagon are very interested in you."

After seeing Fred off, Qin Han returned to his room to change his clothes when Lorna Barrett burst in like a whirlwind.

She pounced on Qin Han, a faint scent of perfume wafting over him: "Got him! Qin, I caught that fatso by the tail!"

The female reporter's voice trembled as she pulled a stack of documents from her bag, waved them around, and suddenly kissed Qin Han.

"Not only did I find out about his past in Europe, but I also discovered his gambling records in Las Vegas!"

A burning ambition blazed in those azure eyes:

"Do you know how much money he owes? Over two million US dollars! At three different casinos!"

"This guy is a slave to gambling debts; he's relentlessly exploiting Elvis just to fill this bottomless pit!"

Qin Han picked up the documents and quickly scanned them.

The numbers above are shocking, exactly the same as the scandals exposed in my previous life.

In the original historical trajectory, after Elvis Presley was worked to death by Colonel Parker's multiple exploitations, he became the "final bargaining chip" for him to pay off his gambling debts.

Taking advantage of his funeral, the fat man had the souvenir factory produce Elvis-themed merchandise day and night, and the 50% cut made him rich overnight.

The Elvis Presley Estate Committee filed a lawsuit against him, but eventually the two sides reached a settlement. Colonel Parker received a one-time settlement fee of $200 million in exchange for relinquishing all of Elvis's master tapes and intellectual property rights.

With that $200 million, he finally paid off his gambling debts and eventually died alone in Las Vegas.

At this moment, Lorna was overjoyed: "As long as these are sent out, Parker will be completely ruined tomorrow! Qin, how can I ever thank you enough?"

"Calm down, Rona." Qin Han pressed down on her trembling hands and closed the file again.

"Releasing this out now would definitely ruin Parker," he said earnestly, looking directly into the female reporter's eyes. "But have you considered who would be most angry if Parker fell?"

Lorna's mind raced, and she immediately realized: "You mean... those casino owners?"

"That's right. Parker is their super ATM, and if we rashly cut off this line..."

He pointed to his head: "Do you think the Mafia will let the two of us who cut off their source of income go?"

At this moment, Lorna also came to her senses—the biggest difference between Las Vegas and Hollywood is that the people there follow the rules of the underworld.

"Then...what should we do?" she asked, somewhat frustrated. "Are we just going to let this juicy scoop rot in our hands?"

"Of course not." Qin Han laughed. "Tonight is the perfect opportunity."

Night falls.

Inside a mansion on Malibu beach, the lights were on.

Fred's dinner party was arranged to be extremely private, with only a few servants in the house, busy with the final arrangements.

When Qin Han and Luo Na arrived, he was holding a wine glass and chatting and laughing with a burly old man.

Although dressed casually, the old man sat upright, his graying buzz cut standing straight up, exuding an air of authority from someone who had long held a high position.

"Qin, Lorna, you've arrived!" Fred waved enthusiastically, then introduced in a loud voice, "This is General William Sterling, from the Pentagon Logistics Command. Of course, he prefers to be called 'Bill'."

Logistics Command? This is a lucrative position! I've run into the ultimate form of "Commissioner Smith".

"General, I've heard so much about you." Qin Han smiled and extended his hand.

General Sterling sized up Qin Han, then extended a large, calloused hand: "Young man, I've heard you're a prophet?"

Qin Han replied with a smile, "That's right, General. As long as you give me enough information, I can predict just how booming the pizzerias near the Pentagon will be tomorrow."

General Sterling raised his eyebrows, understood the joke Qin Han was telling, and burst into laughter: "In Washington, we call this 'intelligence analysis'."

Clearly, he wasn't as rigid as he appeared.

After they sat down, Fred played his role as a mediator: "Bill, I wasn't lying to you, was I? Yesterday, Disney closed up another three points."

General Sterling smiled with satisfaction: "Yes, thanks to your suggestion, otherwise I would have almost missed this feast that I shouldn't have missed."

"For profit." He raised his glass of red wine.

"For profit." Qin Han and Luo Na also raised their glasses in response.

At the American dinner table, being able to make money together is the strongest foundation of friendship.

After several rounds of drinks, the atmosphere became increasingly lively.

General Sterling put down his napkin and wiped his mouth. "Qin, I heard from Fred that you're interested in Instagram?"

Qin Han put down his knife and fork and said seriously, "Yes, General. I have a very interesting file involving an illegal immigrant who has been hiding for over forty years."

"Oh?" Sterling asked, puzzled. "For something this trivial, why not just call and report it? Why bother Fred with this favor?"

"Because... this illegal immigrant has a gang of mafia members backing him."

Sterling was a smart man and instantly understood the implied meaning.

"Las Vegas... those Italians are definitely getting more and more arrogant. But how did you get involved with them?"

"General, I haven't offended them." Qin Han laughed. "I was just thinking that arresting an illegal immigrant who could cause a media storm would not only bring INS a bright start to the new year..."

He nodded to the female reporter beside him, glanced at the old general, and continued, "We can also offer you a substantial pension, which benefits everyone. Why not?"

Silence fell over the table. General Sterling did not answer immediately, but lit a cigar and took a deep drag.

Indeed, I'm not young anymore, and who would complain about having too much retirement pension?

"Fred." He exhaled a smoke ring, a frank smile spreading across his face. "You're right, this Mr. Qin is indeed a friend worth having."

"So, can you tell me what kind of illegal immigrant that was?"