Pirate: My Piltover technology is far ahead!

Chapter 32 Peace Prize and Medicine Prize

No money left!

Those three simple words pierced everyone's hearts, and Quinn and the others jumped up as if they had been launched into the air.

"What did you say?! No money?! Did you embezzle all the funds?!"

Caesar slammed his fist on the table in anger, only to find that everyone was staring at him, including Queen and Judge, whose eyes all conveyed the same meaning.

Who can embezzle funds better than you?

Everyone knew what Caesar was doing in private, but since he had already been given the funding, and he was willing to waste his research funds, no one else bothered to interfere.

When Caesar fails to produce results, it's easier to mock him, but his current behavior gives the impression of trying to cover up the truth.

"What kind of money-burning project have you started this time, Vegapunk? Even though you're in charge of allocating the funds, you can't just use them like this!"

Judge's face grew even more somber. His research was at a critical juncture, and if funding were cut off now, all his previous efforts would be in vain.

"Looks like we'll have to go rob someone. I think we should have done it a long time ago. I heard that lazy bum used to be a pirate? That means he's experienced."

Quinn didn't complain; in fact, he even offered a solution: MADS wasn't a legitimate organization to begin with, and according to common knowledge on the high seas, classifying them as pirates wouldn't be a problem.

"Shut up, all of you! Punk, finish what you're saying. What's going on with the funding?"

Oran succeeded in silencing them, even more efficiently than Vegapunk.

Although Quinn and his group resented both Oran and Vegapunk, they were more afraid of Oran. The reason was simple: Vegapunk would at most deduct money from their pay, but Oran would actually beat them up.

They couldn't win against Oran, couldn't compete with her, and ultimately couldn't beat her. They might even be targeted by the catgirl. After two years, the results were remarkable.

"There's something wrong with our sponsor. He seems to think the investment is enough and is considering withdrawing his funding."

Good news: No one embezzled funds.

Bad news: The sponsors are preparing to withdraw their funding.

Everyone present had normal thinking and logic, and they immediately realized that the problem lay at a more fundamental level.

"What's the reason?"

"That's enough," that's what they said directly.

In Du Field's eyes, MADS was just a vanity project. He wasn't genuinely doing charity. He didn't care that he hadn't achieved any results after investing for more than two years, since the name MADS had already spread to some extent.

When the time comes, Du Feld can simply invest the remaining money in publicity and achieve the same effect. Compared to the bottomless pit of scientific research, bribing public opinion is much cheaper.

"Why now of all times? Didn't he publish some papers before? This guy..."

Judge was now gritting his teeth; of all these people, his experiment was at the most critical juncture and could not be paused at all.

"So he only said he wanted to stop sponsoring, but he didn't say whether the ships would be taken back, when exactly it would be implemented, or whether he would send someone over, is that right?"

Oran wasn't surprised at all; he'd seen plenty of people like that. The alchemist barons of Zaun, the powerful families of Piltover, and the royal family of Demacia all behaved similarly when doing business.

Their goal wasn't to overturn the table, but to demand a higher price.

"That's right, just like you said, Oran. Do you have any other ideas?"

"One thing, by the way, Punk, how's your GP research going?"

GP Flowers, a recent research project by Vegapunk, is a fast-growing flower that consumes gunpowder as its nutrient source. This substance can be used to turn gunpowder into flowers in an instant.

"It's basically complete, and we're in the final debugging stage."

"Then there's no problem. I'll handle it. I just realized that we're a bit short on funds lately."

As he spoke, Oran got up and walked towards the door. Quinn and the others thought Oran was going to do something, so they followed him out, only to find that he had just come to the deck for some fresh air.

"What about your plan? Didn't you say it was your responsibility to handle?"

"Don't be so impatient, just wait. Du Feld has invested a huge amount of money in MADS. With this sunk cost, the loss from suddenly withdrawing his investment would be enormous. It's more likely that he's pursuing something else. Whoever speaks first will be at a disadvantage."

"But we're running out of funds. What if we run out?"

Thinking about his experimental results, Gaji felt a little uneasy.

When faced with a major threat, Judge always appears weak, and Caesar is no better; in this respect, they are far inferior to Queen.

"It's just a few days. If he's patient, we'll contact him first. We won't lose anything anyway."

If we can talk, we will. Even if things really come to a head, Oran knows where he can get the money.

However, it's easier to have someone else deliver it to you voluntarily.

Over the next few days, Vegapunk continued his research as usual, a testament to his trust in Oran. Since Oran had entrusted the matter to him, Vegapunk felt at ease.

Judge and Caesar worried every day, but it was of no use and only added to their troubles. Queen, on the other hand, ate and drank excessively in the kitchen, consuming large amounts of red bean soup with rice cakes every day, seemingly trying to get his money's worth.

After waiting for several days, when the ship docked again for supplies, Du Feld himself led a group of men onto the MADS ship.

With a cigar dangling from his mouth, a luxurious cape draped over his shoulders, and a small flower adorning his purple suit, this was Du Feld himself. His attire exuded wealth, yet it could not conceal his ruthlessness.

But when he saw Oran, who was already waiting for him in the conference room, he suddenly laughed.

"Dr. Siddirel, is this our first meeting? I've only heard Vegapunk mention you before. It seems you guessed what I was thinking?"

"The investment over two years hasn't yielded significant results. Although it was done for charity to enhance their image, they feel they've lost money, so they want something more valuable from us, don't they?"

Oran was casually fiddling with a fidget spinner, looking completely relaxed and without the slightest hint of tension.

"Haha, you're smarter than those people, but you're not entirely right. I'm really prepared to withdraw my investment, and I'm serious about that."

"No, I'm sitting here waiting for you because I'm sure you won't withdraw your investment. On the contrary, after today, you'll invest even more."

Feld's expression became very complicated, and even the scar on his face twitched. He then pulled out a chair and sat down. He was very curious as to why Oran could say such a thing with such confidence, as if he had him completely under his control.

"The Iberian Prize is about to begin. With our investment doubled, Punk and I are confident of winning this year's Peace Prize and Medicine Prize."

"If your ambitions are big enough, then after that, we can also take over the entire business of the renowned funeral director Piecrow."

Oran's fingertip continued to spin, but the room suddenly fell silent, with only Feld's slightly excited breathing remaining loud.

This is the chapter from noon; I'm posting it earlier today as an exception.

(End of this chapter)