Chapter Seventy-One: The Malicious Intent of the Mount Fuji Group

After winning the bid, Fantasy Technology obtained agency fees totaling more than 4.6 billion dollars, which, converted to local currency, exceeded a staggering 30 billion. This single asset alone was enough to propel Fantasy Technology into the ranks of the nation’s top 500 enterprises. Before the bidding began, the capital markets had already estimated Fantasy Technology’s assets at around 200 billion, but now it seemed those estimates were only on the low side.

On the second floor of Fengluan, which had always served as a dressing area for performers, one room had now been converted into a meeting room. The representatives of all seven agents had arrived: Sakura Group and Mount Fuji Group from Japan, Saint Shield Group from the UK, the Mafia from Italy, Saint Derbi Bao from Germany, Tulip from France, and Saint Tang Group from China.

The seven representatives had not brought any outsiders; they sat quietly, leaving the tea and coffee untouched, until Zhu Lan entered.

Accompanying Zhu Lan was a woman who entered and distributed documents to each attendee before Zhu Lan took a seat.

“Congratulations to all of you for obtaining the agency qualifications,” Zhu Lan said.

“Mr. Zhu, what I truly desire is the primary agent qualification,” the president of Tulip remarked with a casual glance at the documents, smiling at Zhu Lan. With golden hair and refined demeanor, the aristocratic aura of this president was unmistakable.

“Count Siballo, I think it’s best if we don’t discuss the primary agency for now. The time isn’t right, and besides, I doubt you’d be willing to pay the price I’d ask for it,” Zhu Lan replied.

His words drew meaningful glances from the others. Not willing to pay the price? It seemed that in Zhu Lan’s mind, the price for a primary agent must be over ten billion. To casually put down such a sum—never mind those present—even trillion-dollar conglomerates like Microsoft, Boeing, Airbus, or Volkswagen might hesitate, especially since this money would only purchase an agency right, with profits still uncertain.

Though the seven agency rights had drawn in 4.6 billion dollars—a huge sum to most—these giants saw it as only a few days’ earnings.

Moreover, news of the gene optimization serum had already spread. Some major conglomerates with the right intelligence were well aware the serum was real, not fiction.

Fantasy Technology itself operated under the strong backing of the Chinese military. No domestic business could touch them, and even foreign companies found it impossible; a single claim of national security risk would render all backgrounds irrelevant.

Covert schemes were out of the question, and force was useless. After considering all these factors, the agents had competed for the rights through normal channels.

A billion—a colossal amount to some—was to these giants little more than a few hours’ talk.

Intelligence suggested that the bounty on the black market came from overseas, showing these titans were using every means to get their hands on the serum.

“Mr. Zhu, what I want to know is: what’s our purchase price, and can your company’s current production meet our demand?” Mr. Yamamoto from Mount Fuji wasted no time, asking directly. With the US market under their belt, they were eager to reap American profits.

“As for those two points, the factory price for the gene optimization serum is ten thousand dollars per vial,” Zhu Lan replied. “Production will begin on the twenty-seventh of this month. You have four days to distribute the product worldwide. Monthly output will be one million units, and your share depends on your own negotiation.”

“One million? That’s far too little!” someone exclaimed.

Zhu Lan waved his hand. “There’s nothing I can do; the workers aren’t skilled enough yet, so we can’t speed up production. It may take half a year to meet your demand. That’s one reason we only auctioned off secondary agency rights—the output simply can’t keep up.”

The new factory had been built, and Zhu Lan had long since materialized the equipment, storing it in the warehouse. Kong Yan led a team of engineers working day and night to install the production equipment, but the machinery for the gene optimization serum was so complex that even on a global scale, such vast, fully automated machines were rare.

Production of the serum involved five steps.

The first: placing various elemental bodies in specially designed incubators for cultivation.

Once these elements reached a certain level, computers controlled their fusion at precise ratios to create the initial gene repair liquid.

The third step used electric currents to stimulate the liquid, fully releasing the serum’s restorative properties and maximizing its potential, including anti-reversal effects.

The fourth step was the gene lock procedure—a highly complex program. The machines involved had to handle gene-locking technology, so the controls were unique. However, now there was an even better solution: Red Queen.

The fifth and critical step was compression. The finished serum was a solidified liquid that, if injected, would take a long time to be absorbed and take effect. Compression extracted a portion of the essence, to which other ingredients were added to form the final product. The extracted material wasn’t recombined but set aside in the lab for future testing of intermediate-level serum.

Human involvement in these five steps was minimal; almost everything was run by intelligent systems. However, cultivation—the care of elemental bodies at the start—couldn’t be automated. Zhu Lan couldn’t deploy more robots, so humans had to do it, directly limiting production.

“No, one million units is far too little!” Several objected, not at the price, but at production capacity. While Fantasy Technology’s agency rights were being distributed, on the black markets of Europe and America, the serum still fetched sky-high prices—over ten million euros per dose—driving many to madness, while Zhu Lan’s factory price was a mere ten thousand dollars.

The gap was so vast that it was unthinkable to quibble over price with Zhu Lan.

“There’s nothing I can do. That’s all we can produce. Take it or leave it,” Zhu Lan said bluntly, leaving the others at a loss. There was simply nothing they could do to pressure Zhu Lan.

“Mr. Zhu, as agents, do we have the right to inspect the serum’s production process? After all, this is a new product. Even though you have assured us, as the old saying goes, ‘Seeing is believing,’” the president of Mount Fuji said.

At this, everyone fell silent and turned to Zhu Lan.

Outwardly Zhu Lan smiled, but inwardly he sneered. The president’s words were laden with hidden threat.

“No problem. Since production is being adjusted, I’ll give you half a day’s access to the plant in three days’ time, so you can have full confidence as agents,” Zhu Lan replied smoothly.

The seven were caught off guard. Wasn’t the production of the serum supposed to be absolutely confidential? What was going on?

“Mr. Zhu, you are most generous. In that case, Mount Fuji Group will take five hundred thousand units of the monthly output,” Yamamoto declared.

“No, I want five hundred thousand!” another demanded.

“If you all take so much, what about us in Europe?” yet another objected.

Like a marketplace, the seven began squabbling over quotas, covering for their earlier request to visit the factory.

“All right, everyone. Our sales manager will discuss allotments with you shortly. For now, there’s one more issue to address,” Zhu Lan interjected.

“Please go ahead, Mr. Zhu,” they responded.

Zhu Lan cast a meaningful look at a Japanese woman present, whose background was anything but simple. Though the web revealed little, what little information there was hinted she might be a princess of the Japanese imperial family, albeit not a direct descendant.

“The agents have been selected, but there’s one thing I must make clear: regarding crossing boundaries,” Zhu Lan stated.

“Every vial of the gene optimization serum will be equipped with a global positioning system. If any batch crosses into another agent’s territory, the first time will be a warning, the second time another warning, and the third time, your agency rights will be revoked.”

Revocation of agency rights? This made the attendees stir.

“Mr. Zhu, may I ask what your bottom line is?” someone inquired.

“The factory price is ten thousand dollars, but the retail price in each of your territories will differ. That’s the advantage Fantasy Technology is offering you. But if anyone gets greedy and tries to earn more, I’m sorry—there are plenty more who want agency rights behind you. I’ll put this in the contract, and you can see the rules on your computers. If you break them, Fantasy Technology reserves the right to revoke your agency at any time.”

“You have two days to discuss this with your superiors. Three days from now, once you sign the agency contract at Fantasy Technology, you will be allowed to view the production line for half a day. Consider this a benefit and a firm commitment from us. I hope none of you will withdraw for any reason,” Zhu Lan concluded, standing up, glancing at the seven, and leaving with the woman who had accompanied him.

Exiting through Fengluan’s rear door, the former parking lot was now empty, replaced by a helicopter.

Several soldiers stood ready by the aircraft.

“Notify Manager Lan that she’s in charge from here. I’m returning to headquarters,” Zhu Lan instructed.

“Understood, boss. I’ll arrange everything,” the woman replied.

Zhu Lan nodded, boarded the helicopter under military escort, and as the blades whirred, the aircraft lifted smoothly, turned at a hundred meters’ altitude, and headed straight for Fantasy Technology.

(To be continued.)