Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 697 111. Wise
"Wise Man"

The cold white lights in the prosthetic maintenance room suddenly turned on, illuminating the metal walls as white as an operating table. The air still carried the pungent smell of disinfectant, mixed with the lingering stench of blood from the recent massacre.

As the notification sound for the transfer of floor access rang in everyone's ears, several employees who had been cowering in the corner suddenly became lively, their faces plastered with carefully calculated smiles, like a pack of mechanical hyenas that had smelled bait, slowly surrounding Mingzhi.

The first person to approach was a female technical officer with a retro Kyoto hairstyle. She had deliberately adjusted her prosthetic eye to a soft amber color—a color that evokes feelings of closeness and warmth.

"You've gained Lord Oda's favor this time," her voice was sickeningly sweet, her fingers seemingly casually brushing against Akechi's sleeve. "If you need any assistance in the future..."

Her words suddenly caught in her throat.

Mingzhi turned his face, and the pupils behind his glasses appeared indifferent under the light, filled with a cold sense of looking down on him.

That wasn't the look a human should have—it was more like the laser sight of a sniper rifle, precisely locking onto each person's fatal spot.

Standing before him, the female technician felt completely naked and exposed to Mingzhi. Her throat, her brain, her heart—every part of her was being scrutinized under Mingzhi's gaze, emitting a faint, phantom pain.

The female technician had a feeling that, if she thought about it rationally, she definitely wouldn't survive the next moment.

The crowd suddenly froze.

They then remembered the red warning box floating in the corner of their retina—[Emergency Protocol Activated - Execution Authority Granted: Goro Akechi].

A Night City counterintelligence officer's knees began to tremble uncontrollably. His balance prosthetic was frantically secreting neurotransmitters to suppress the tremors, but it was completely unable to stop his instinctive fear.

The female technician in the front row took a half step back and her lower back hit the wall.

Her meticulously manicured nails scraped against the wall with a harsh sound, and her once confident smile was now twitching three times per second.

Everyone could see Mingzhi's right hand hanging by his side—it was resting flat next to the holster, ready to draw his weapon at any moment.

The air seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Then, Mingzhi gently pushed up his glasses with his left hand, a seemingly ordinary action that almost made the female technician collapse to the ground.

Those fawning smiles were like a cheap holographic advertisement that had been paused, frozen on everyone's faces.

They suddenly realized that this seemingly frail young man now wielded a power far more terrifying than ten—a power that could turn them into morgue numbers without trial.

When Mingzhi finally spoke, his voice was as calm as reading out an air conditioner instruction manual: "The protective procedure will begin in ten seconds. Take your positions."

These words shattered the frozen crowd like a grenade.

They scattered faster than when they encountered spies using military technology; one panicked fellow nearly tripped and fell.

Behind everyone who was busy, Mingzhi stood quietly in place, watching their fleeing figures, a barely perceptible sneer appearing on his lips—this was probably the closest he came to showing any "expression" that day.

'It's fun to tease people.'

He thought about it casually.

What these people feared was not him as a person, but the invisible power in his hands.

This almost instinctive reaction struck Carl as both laughable and subtly ironic.

He was certainly not a madman, much less a bloodthirsty butcher like Adam Hammer.

He is actually quite lenient with human life—unless the other party is a cleaner, he will most likely spare their life even if they anger him, after all, killing has never been his hobby.

But they don't know.

They only saw the intimidation behind the name "wise," and they fearfully speculated that he would pull out a gun and kill someone at any moment. Now, this fear made them as docile as lambs, and they dared not bother him anymore.

Carl suddenly felt a pang of sadness. Were these people judging him based on their own logic? Did they believe that if they were in power, they would ruthlessly purge dissidents and eliminate anyone who stood in their way? Was that why they were so certain he would do the same?
sigh.

With this kind of thinking, it's no wonder they're in this position now.

Arakazama's tradition of "overthrowing one's superior" is ultimately nothing more than a farce of a pack of wild dogs fighting over carrion.

They tear and gnaw desperately, just to climb to a higher position, yet they don't even understand the most basic rules of the game.

Anyone with a little common sense should understand that the true path to advancement lies in creating value, not destroying it.

Only those who can bring benefits to the company can gain a foothold in the power struggle.

Rise to power through flattery and eliminating dissidents? Even if you manage to succeed by chance, it will only be a fleeting moment.

Ultimately, it won't go far.

"Drip."

Carl received a message.

"I am coming."

David has already started working at the company.

"I see."

He gave a simple response, then stepped forward and walked over to the trembling staff beside him, entering the prosthetic body maintenance room.

Inside the room, Oda Santao was receiving maintenance on his prosthetic body with his eyes closed, while many technicians were busy around him. When they saw Akechi approaching, each of them showed a hint of fear.

They, like the outsiders, also knew about Mingzhi's current authority, and under the pressure of life and death, their every move involuntarily quickened.

They all wanted to finish their duties quickly, lest the wise man suddenly sense something amiss in one of their actions and execute them on the spot.

However, speed cannot be compromised by mistakes, otherwise, if Oda Santau is injured, their fate will still be death.

The pressure of needing both speed and stability made them afraid to look at wise advice, and they could only bury themselves in their work.

They all believed that Akechi was loyal and was monitoring them for Oda Santao's safety, and because of this fear, they ignored the camera in the prosthetic maintenance room flashing.

Karl would normally need to hack in, but with the permissions granted by Oda Santao, he didn't even need to go through the trouble of hacking in; he had already taken over everything in the room.

Karl was there to check on the prosthetic body maintenance.

If the maintenance of the prosthetic body had continued normally, the tricks he had done to Oda Sandayu would definitely have been discovered, and that would have aroused Oda's suspicion.

Therefore, we need to add some more steps at this point.

Oda granted us those permissions himself, so why not take advantage of them?
This is the right he relinquished for himself.

With no one daring to pay attention to him, Karl placed his hand next to a data station, and a monomolecular wire silently popped out, completing the connection.

They really don't know what they've learned.

The surname Mingzhi has been associated with traitors and rebels throughout history.

How could we fail to live up to the name of Mingzhi Guangxiu?

(End of this chapter)