Chapter Sixteen: All That Is Lacking Is Honesty!

Although he had Qin Min’s assurance, Luo Guoqiang was still uneasy. The gene serum was neither trivial nor insignificant. Initially, Zhu Lan had planned to turn his Fantasy Technology into a semi-military product company, but Luo Guoqiang did not agree to this. However, he promised to covertly help clear some obstacles for Fantasy Technology.

To this end, ten people were transferred from the navy to serve as security for Fantasy Technology, tasked specifically with safeguarding the gene serum. More importantly, all ten were armed and authorized to shoot potential enemies on sight if necessary, without waiting for orders.

The gene serum was of great importance. Nowhere in the world had a practical version been developed. Although Zhu Lan’s gene serum was far from perfect, it could enhance abilities—this much was real. Even if the effect was only temporary and there was a risk of genetic collapse, it still meant stepping through the door to genetic-level advancements. It had to be protected.

Zhu Lan himself did not care much for the gene serum; his collaboration with the military was merely a cover to conceal the existence of the virus. So long as he remained silent, no one would ever suspect that his company harbored a world-ending weapon like a virus.

Working with the military had both advantages and drawbacks. The benefit was that he didn’t have to worry about being sabotaged by outsiders—though the military itself was an exception. The downside was that if anything were exposed, the danger to him would increase ten thousand fold. Both commercial and military spies might flock to his company in search of the gene serum, and if that happened, the risk of the virus being discovered would be immense.

Had it not been for the unexplained investigation, Zhu Lan would never have chosen this route. Still, he understood that, for now, this was the best choice. It would buy him enough time to develop and also give him more excuses to bring things from the movies into reality.

When the team from S City University arrived, Zhu Lan’s laboratory was already halfway complete, and normal experiments could begin.

Luo You’s negotiations went remarkably smoothly, securing the twelve warehouses in his possession. For the land, someone dispatched by Luo Guoqiang negotiated with the city government, and in the end, the land Zhu Lan had planned for was acquired for 240 million.

The initial 50 million had already been transferred to the government’s designated account; the remainder would be paid off within three years.

Now, this vast tract of land belonged to Zhu Lan.

With the land in hand, Zhu Lan tasked Ren Linting with finding a company to construct a six-story laboratory building. He had originally wanted to build a tall, imposing structure all at once, but realizing he couldn’t be too ostentatious for the time being, he settled for a six-story lab building to serve as the future site for gene serum experiments.

The building’s footprint was enormous, rivaling a basketball court, and it featured three underground and six aboveground floors—nine levels in total.

Soon, a massive amount of construction equipment arrived at the northern suburbs and work began.

“Familiarize yourselves with these devices first. When all the equipment is in place, we’ll proceed to the next stage!” Zhu Lan said.

At the city’s port, it was already late at night. Zhu Lan stood on the dock, accompanied by Cheng Xue and two others, both men in blue-trimmed military uniforms—obviously navy personnel.

“What time is it now?” Zhu Lan asked.

“Four thirteen in the morning,” Cheng Xue replied immediately after checking the time.

“It should be here soon.” Zhu Lan looked out over the sea.

One of the soldiers’ devices lit up. He picked it up, listened, then quickly put it down. “The coastal patrol has sighted the cargo ship. It’ll be docked in twenty minutes.”

Zhu Lan nodded.

Twenty minutes later, a cargo ship docked at the port, and container after container was unloaded.

Zhu Lan, holding a tablet, checked each container. “Open it,” he instructed.

The port workers nodded and opened the container. Several people shone strong flashlights inside.

Zhu Lan and the two soldiers entered.

Inside the container, silver cases were neatly stacked, each fitted with a combination lock.

Zhu Lan entered a code, and one of the cases popped open. Inside, bottles of blue liquid sat quietly.

One of the soldiers used a device to extract a bottle, placing it on the scanner.

The results appeared quickly. Confirming it was indeed his shipment, Zhu Lan nodded in satisfaction. “Thank you for your hard work.”

A dozen trucks transported the containers to a warehouse in the northern suburbs for storage.

In a month’s time, Fantasy Technology was completely transformed.

Twelve warehouses were fenced off, and the building under construction was also surrounded by walls. Security posts were set up at the only two entrances, and more than a hundred surveillance cameras were placed around the perimeter.

“Mr. Zhu, the higher-ups are not satisfied with your progress,” someone said.

Zhu Lan, seated in his office, smiled and shook his head. “It hasn’t even started yet. This project can’t be rushed.”

Across from him sat a twenty-six-year-old woman in a blue business suit, her long hair unbound and flowing. She had a classic oval face.

Shang Yan, the supervisor sent by Luo Guoqiang, did not intrigue Zhu Lan with her background. However, judging by the security team drawn from the navy, her rank was clearly not low, and she was exceptionally assertive, often showing Zhu Lan a frosty demeanor.

At first, Zhu Lan worried they’d send someone scheming, but given her disposition, he found it amusing. Even if Shang Yan was often cold to him, he was unbothered.

“Hmph.”

“Miss Shang, lately your subordinates seem rather restless. I don’t mind, but if any leaks occur here, you understand what that would mean. Also, there have been issues with some new hires. I hope you’ll take responsibility.”

Shang Yan frowned. She’d heard rumors about what Zhu Lan mentioned but hadn’t started the investigation—yet Zhu Lan had brought it up first.

Despite Zhu Lan’s efforts to keep a low profile, the sudden arrival of a new company in the long-neglected northern suburbs, with such significant investment, attracted much attention.

Although only a few inside the government knew about Fantasy Technology’s land purchase, in this world, no secret stays hidden for long. If the northern suburbs hadn’t lacked transportation and development value, and if there weren’t more suitable locations elsewhere, it would have been developed long ago.

China had been developing quickly; some businessmen were now eyeing second- and third-tier cities, even county seats.

Yet the city itself had only been developing for a decade, with much land yet to be fully utilized. It took three to five years to build a suburb, and another three to five for development; from project inception to prosperity, a district required at least fifteen years.

The city’s real growth had only lasted eight years, with high-rises built in five years, raising it from a third-tier to a second-tier city. But the pace was so fast that the city couldn’t fully absorb it. In other words, internal demand hadn’t been satisfied, so naturally, suburban development lagged.

The southern suburbs housed the port and were central in the city’s founding. The western suburbs became an industrial hub. The eastern suburbs, with their scenic parks, were the heart of the city, home to seventy percent of its companies and fifty percent of its people. The northern suburbs, just a decade ago, were nothing but hills. If not for the highway, there wouldn’t even be a northern suburb.

For this reason, the commotion caused by Zhu Lan’s Fantasy Technology drew a great deal of attention.

Many began to inquire about the company’s true business.

It had been nearly three months since Zhu Lan founded Fantasy Technology. The visible capital alone exceeded four hundred million—an enormous sum, matched by only a dozen companies in the province, none of which had any connection to Fantasy Technology. This alone was enough to arouse suspicion.

A week earlier, Yu Dongming had reported frequent contact between company security and research staff with outsiders.

Because the company was still under construction, many employees had little to do—in essence, Zhu Lan was paying salaries for nothing.

At first, Zhu Lan was alarmed, and immediately had Yu Dongming investigate, while also tightening internal scrutiny.

Over the past month, Zhu Lan had imported many bacterial cultures from abroad, as well as various plant extracts. Luo Guoqiang had sent people to check at first, but, seeing they were only biological materials, stopped further inspections. Seizing the opportunity, Zhu Lan claimed to have acquired all the necessary equipment for biological research.

Although the laboratory equipment was not yet complete, eighty percent had been acquired.

The Fantasy System was all-powerful, but it needed a medium.

A fully-equipped biology lab required not only massive but also numerous devices. No single movie would ever feature everything Zhu Lan needed. He could only extract equipment from multiple films.

Even so, Zhu Lan was still unable to materialize all that was needed for a complete biology lab, as some equipment simply couldn’t be found.

He’d considered buying them, but after checking prices online, he gave up.

Of the dozen or so missing devices, half were embargoed, and the other half together cost over five hundred million dollars. Such a vast sum was impossible for Zhu Lan to produce or justify, so he could only keep watching films, hoping to find what he needed.

“I’m already investigating the matter. Once the results are out, I’d like to know—what will you do?” Shang Yan grew serious as she spoke.

Zhu Lan shook his head. “That’s not a question for me—you should be asking yourself.”

Shang Yan frowned, displeased.

“I’m just a researcher. If it weren’t for your military’s involvement, I’d simply let those who couldn’t resist temptation go. There are tens of millions out there looking for work. I don’t lack employees—what I lack is honesty.”

ps: The end of the year is busy, and I have little time to write. Besides, I’m recovering from illness—my hands often tremble, which leads to frequent typing errors. Three chapters a day—before, forget three, I could do five and fifteen thousand words in a day. But now, after a month in the hospital and on medication, the side effects make my hands tremble so badly I can hardly type. I have to work during the day and soon must go to the provincial capital for a follow-up. I need to build up a backlog of chapters, otherwise, there’ll be interruptions, since the hospital doesn’t have internet!