But if you ask a top litigator who they've offended in their life, that's a bit much.

Because there are simply too many—even a ghost couldn't remember them all.

So William Carter could only come to the black market to find someone to investigate. Even if he couldn't find the culprit, it would be good enough to find out who saved him.

Who knew that after more than half an hour, the boss looked up, rubbed his eyelids, and said he found nothing.

William Carter frowned. "No trace at all?"

"None. Spotless."

"What about the smart device itself?"

"Bought anonymously on the black market. That's way too hard to trace. The base covers so many star systems—it's like fishing a needle out of the universe."

William Carter fiddled with the ring-shaped smart device for a moment, then finally said, "Alright, then, can you help me resell this shuttle ticket to the neighboring star while you're at it?"

The boss glanced at the ticket and shook his head. "Can't help with that."

"'Anything goes'?" William Carter jerked his chin at the sign outside the door.

"That's just exaggeration."

William Carter didn't argue, just nodded and said, "One last thing."

"What is it? Go ahead." The boss replied politely, "I have to get at least one thing done for you today, or else the sign outside really should be taken down."

"Help me get a registration certificate," William Carter said. "Mez University Law School, for South Cross Law Firm."

As one of the oldest law schools in Decama and even the entire Emerald Star System, Mez University Law School had internship agreements with all the top law firms nearby. Students could choose any law firm for their internship with the registration certificate. Of course, whether they could officially join the firm in the end depended on their assessment.

But William Carter didn't care about what came after; he just needed to get through the door of South Cross Law Firm. Because the explosion case that led to his "untimely death" was handled by South Cross.

"Registration certificate?" The boss's head started to ache as soon as he heard it. He said sincerely, "I really can't help with that."

"So the ticket was just fake 'can't help'?"

Boss: "…"

"Is this really a black market?"

"Alright, alright, I'll resell the ticket for you!" the boss muttered as he got to work. "Mainly, I can't make much profit on this, it's a hassle, and it's easy to get caught…"

With his hair sticking up like a bird's nest, he grumbled for twenty minutes. William Carter pretended not to hear, waiting patiently and guilt-free.

"Done. Should I transfer the ticket money directly to this asset card of yours?"

William Carter nodded. "Since that's settled, please get the registration certificate done as well."

The boss looked utterly defeated. "Since what, my friend? I really can't do the registration certificate, no joke."

"Why not? There's nothing special about the certificate itself. Relax, I just need it for a short time—they won't trace it back to you." William Carter was copying something from his own school, and his conscience didn't even twinge.

But the boss was in pain. "There's nothing special about the certificate itself—I could make one in two minutes. But I can't get the signature! You know how advanced handwriting verification is these days."

William Carter raised an eyebrow. "What signature?"

"Every school's registration certificate needs the dean's signature. Those are all on record and checked strictly. Where am I supposed to get that for you?!"

It was only then that William Carter, who had been annoyed for two days, finally let out a laugh. "That's not even a problem."

The boss thought this student was probably crazy.

But five minutes later, it was the boss himself who was going crazy.

Because he watched with his own eyes as this student scribbled a dean's signature on the certificate he had just made, uploaded it to the self-service verification system, and the system actually approved it!

It wasn't until the student left with the successfully forged certificate that the boss snapped out of it, pounding his chest in regret: Damn, I forgot to ask if this student wanted a part-time job!

Five days later, William Carter was sitting in the most prestigious law firm in Decama.

The soft sofa chairs in the reception room were warm and comfortable, but the other interns waiting to check in sat stiffly. Only he sat with his long legs crossed, chin propped on his hand, absentmindedly fiddling with his ring-shaped smart device, looking elegant and relaxed.

He didn't look like a student being evaluated at all—more like someone there to evaluate others.

The blond young man sitting next to him kept sneaking glances at him, again and again, no less than dozens of times in just ten minutes.

"Hey, do I look square, like an exam screen or something?" William Carter suddenly looked up from his thoughts.

The blond had just taken a sip of coffee and immediately spit it back out.

He hurriedly grabbed a few quick-dry napkins, wiping the coffee stains from his chin as he awkwardly replied, "Huh? Of course not."

"Then why do you twitch every time you look at me, like you got zapped?" William Carter always liked to tease people with a bit of a smile, but his features had a cold, striking beauty. Whenever he smiled, it was like frost melting—especially deceptive. So many people he teased actually, bizarrely, felt it was a friendly gesture.

This blond classmate was no exception. Not only did he not feel teased, he even thought his sneaking glances had indeed been a bit abrupt. "Sorry, it's just… you look a bit like our dean."