Chapter Thirty-Three: The Background of the Sacred Tang Dynasty

After hanging up the phone, Luo Guoqiang fell into thought.

“Commander, did something happen?”

“Ah, it’s that damned Huanshang Technologies again. This matter is driving me crazy!”

“Huanshang Technologies? Isn't that the company with the character recognition program?”

Luo Guoqiang nodded. “That’s right, it’s them.”

“But wait, wasn’t Minister Li in charge of this?”

Luo Guoqiang didn’t reply, only sighed. “That’s true, but you know what Old Li is like, and how he handles things. If you ask him to take care of it, he simply won’t. He just shoved the whole problem onto me. The higher-ups only sent one person, and the rest are from my side. Now I’m stuck in an impossible position.”

“This…” The visitor had nothing more to say.

Outside the window, great waves crashed relentlessly against the warship, but the formidable ship remained utterly unmoved by the sea’s fury. Luo Guoqiang lifted his binoculars and watched the exercise taking place not far away.

“Kiyoshi, what do you make of this situation?”

“There’s an old saying: the accomplished are the teachers. The data is limited, but Europe has already confirmed it—there’s no mistake.”

“That’s why I came to you. He was once your friend, wasn’t he?”

“A friend? I’d say he was more an enemy than a friend.”

The room fell silent. Both men sipped their drinks in thought.

“Kiyoshi, this matter is of the utmost importance to the Society. Since you were once friends with Zhu Lan, you’re the best person for the job.”

Watanabe Kiyoshi had once studied in Japan—and the university he attended was City University.

The gene optimization serum had tempted many. Domestically, it was possible to use personal influence to glean some information, but foreign countries had no such luck. Meeting Zhu Lan in person was nearly impossible, since Huanshang Technologies was under military protection. Japanese and American companies alike could hardly pass the military’s scrutiny, let alone gain access to Zhu Lan or secure agency rights to the serum.

No matter how great your power, no matter your international influence, it meant nothing before the military.

With the army as his shield, forcing Zhu Lan to hand over the formula was out of the question. Many already knew that Zhu Lan had made some significant contribution, so moving against him was absolutely impossible.

The only reason anyone even considered it was to monopolize the gene market. Now, since that was not possible, the only thing left was to seize the largest possible share of this untapped market.

Somewhere, word had spread that someone had personally come to negotiate for continental agency rights. All those aware of the vastness of the gene market could no longer sit still.

“Is that so?”

Within a forest on the outskirts of the city, an ancient complex nestled among the mountains. Surrounded on all sides by towering peaks, a few ridges away, a magnificent and bustling metropolis could be seen in the distance, its nightscape resplendent, the city wrapped in a robe of dazzling lights.

Beneath the mountains, the ancient complex was lit only by a scattering of dim lanterns. From above, the lights were almost invisible, for the illumination came from old-fashioned lanterns rather than modern lamps.

Inside a stone-built room with a vast, ancient, and luxurious hall, several people were gathered.

The hall was immense—so much so that even with modern technology, constructing such a space would be a challenge. Yet the layout made it clear: this house was the product of centuries past, a testament to the wisdom of the ancients.

Seated at the head was an elderly man, his hair entirely white. Alongside him sat several middle-aged men, and at the far end, Tang Xuejian stood nervously, not daring to sit even though there was a sofa nearby.

Tang Xuejian nodded. “Yes, Grandfather.”

The old man—Tang Xuejian’s grandfather—fell silent after hearing this.

“That scoundrel! He actually dared to say such a thing. Let me bring some men and just take him out—I’d like to see what he’d say then!” One hot-tempered man slammed the table and roared.

“All you ever think about is violence. What else do you know besides that?” Another man across from him retorted, silencing him with a glare.

“Enough, stop arguing!” the elderly man commanded.

Everyone seated here was a core member of the Tang family, led by the patriarch Tang Xiaokun, who was also Tang Xuejian’s grandfather.

The men beside him were his sons: the eldest, Tang Shenghong, current CEO of Shengtang Group; the second son, Tang Shengjun, a regimental commander in the Guangdong Provincial Military District; and the third, Tang Shengren, founder of an investment company ranked among the nation’s top ten.

Aside from the three, two others were present: Huang Tianfan, another major shareholder of Shengtang Group, who personally oversaw much of the company’s growth and held thirty-six percent of its shares; and the man known as Grandpa Qian, another board member whose real name was known to none.

The trio formed the backbone of Shengtang Group, a force virtually unchecked in the southern region.

It was Huang Tianfan who had just spoken.

Huang Tianfan looked at Tang Xiaokun. “Big brother, what do you think?”

Tang Xiaokun understood what Huang meant. The gene optimization serum had only been on the scene a short while, but too many coveted it. In the past, no one dared challenge Shengtang Group because its market share had been established from the outset. Competing groups merely watched from the sidelines, unwilling to get involved. Though Shengtang wasn’t in the top ten nationwide, if a real fight broke out, the fallout would benefit no one. The state would never allow two domestic giants to destroy each other, for in the end, only foreign interests would profit.

Currently, many domestic companies were already majority-owned by foreign capital. By the time the state realized it couldn’t let foreigners control the nation’s lifeblood, it was already too late. Despite spending huge sums to buy back control, it still wasn’t enough. They would never again risk surrendering their destiny to outsiders.

“You’re suggesting it’s not worth it for us to make a move?” Tang Xiaokun put the question bluntly, looking around at everyone.

Huang Tianfan didn’t conceal his views, and nodded. “Shengtang is at a critical juncture. Without new markets, we’ll inevitably decline, but we must not touch this gene market—it’s clearly packed with explosives.”

The others said nothing. The situation was too uncertain. No one knew why the old man was so determined to enter this murky market. A single misstep could spell disaster for Shengtang.

But everyone knew the old man’s temper—advice was useless, but failing to offer it was even more dangerous. They were caught between a rock and a hard place.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Tang Xiaokun said, pausing briefly as his gaze rested on Tang Xuejian.

“Based on the information we have, yes, this market is unpredictable. But…”

“You all know Shengtang’s situation. Outwardly, things look great, but beneath the surface, danger is everywhere!”

“We know that, but we still can’t take such a risk,” Grandpa Qian said helplessly.

“I know how dangerous this is, but we have no other choice. Perhaps you’re still unaware.” Tang Xiaokun pulled out a folder and tossed it onto the table.

“What’s this?” Huang Tianfan asked, looking at the folder before glancing back at Tang Xiaokun.

“This is Zhu Lan’s file—not the same one you’ve seen before.”

The old man’s words puzzled them. Huang Tianfan picked up the file and read through it.

When he was done, Huang Tianfan fell silent and passed it to Grandpa Qian.

Grandpa Qian read it as well, said nothing, and handed it along.

After everyone, including Tang Xuejian, had read the file, a heavy silence fell over the room.

“It’s not the gene market I care about—it’s him.” The old man pointed at Zhu Lan’s photo in the file, smiling faintly.

“Is it really worth such a gamble?” Grandpa Qian voiced the question. If he hadn’t read the file, he would have been dead set against it. But after reading it, he too fell silent.

The old man shook his head. “Xueli, what do you think?”

He looked up at Tang Xuejian—no, she should be called Tang Xueli.

“Grandfather, if it were up to me, I would never do it. It’s too risky. We can’t put the entire Tang family on the line, not even if it’s someone my sister values.”

Few knew of Tang Xueli’s existence. The truth was, the Tang family’s celebrated heiress was actually one of a pair of twins. All the world knew Tang Xuejian, but almost no one knew of Tang Xueli, who had been raised by her grandmother since childhood.

Shengtang Group was led by Tang Xiaokun, but his authority as a retired commander could not fully command respect. The real foundation lay with his wife—Tang Xuejian’s grandmother.

Throughout the country, fewer than a hundred people knew the true backer behind Shengtang Group, most of them top state leaders; the rest were those aware of Tang Xiaokun’s wife’s background.

Tang Xiaokun’s wife was the younger princess of Austria. When Tang Xiaokun was a young man, he once saved her life by chance. Wartime circumstances kept her from leaving, and Tang Xiaokun was ordered to look after the princess. Inevitably, love blossomed. When the war ended, Tang Xiaokun chose to devote himself to the Party’s cause, and the princess left.

The rise of Shengtang was only natural. Given Tang Xiaokun’s background, it was impossible for him to continue along the usual path; he had to step outside the system.

Though they later quarreled, Shengtang’s early development owed much to the princess’s aid. Tang Xuejian and Tang Xueli were their closest kin. Perhaps out of guilt, Tang Xiaokun sent Tang Xueli to Europe when she was only three. She only returned last year.

The old man nodded. “I know that with Shengtang’s strength, only we ourselves can bring us down. I don’t need to choose this path. But the reason I choose it is because Shengtang has reached a turning point.”

“You trust him that much?”

The old man shook his head. “I don’t trust him. I trust myself.”

At his words, everyone shook their heads slightly.

“I can’t agree. Without enough evidence, I won’t support this.” Huang Tianfan was the first to stand in opposition. The old man’s decision was, in his eyes, tantamount to throwing Shengtang Group into the fire.

“I disagree as well,” Grandpa Qian said quietly, but with enough weight to make his meaning clear to all present.

The old man tapped his cane on the floor, surveying everyone. “You all object?”

Other than Huang Tianfan and Grandpa Qian, who nodded, the rest remained silent—including Tang Xueli.

“In that case, let’s treat this as an ordinary company meeting.” With that, the old man rose, visibly angry, and headed upstairs.

Everyone exchanged glances, then shook their heads and got up—no one wished to linger.