Becoming an Emperor Starting from the World of The Wandering Earth

"To accelerate development on the existing foundation, it is recommended to leverage the mutual aid network to expedite the acquisition of small energy storage stations in peripheral areas, thereby expanding the business footprint and securing a one-time capital injection."

"At the same time, after the special operations teams are expanded, we can consider taking the initiative to clear out gang or rebel strongholds that pose a significant threat in the surrounding area. This will not only provide practical training but also allow us to seize supplies and enhance our regional deterrence."

"Secondly, after the vertical farm goes into production, it is recommended to follow Long An-yi's suggestion to supply the self-produced vegetables and fish to the relief window and organize visits for the beneficiaries to strengthen their emotional identification."

Murphy stared at the few lines of text on the screen and tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

Murphy was quite satisfied with the company's progress, having only been in charge for a little over a year.

Of course, Skynet deserves credit for this, but Murphy's own role cannot be ignored.

If this pace of development continues, he himself could become a hidden warlord in just a few years.

With this thought in mind, Murphy slightly raised his head. "Skynet, call Wilson over."

"Yes, Master!"

A moment later, the door was pushed open.

Wilson walked in, still wearing his training uniform, clearly having come directly from the training field.

He stopped in front of the desk, tapped his heel against the floor, and said, "Sir, you wanted to see me?"

"Wilson, you should know that the factory recently opened a new production line specifically for producing all types of firearms."

"I know, sir, what should I do?"

Wilson wasn't stupid; he didn't think Murphy had called him over just to talk about this.

"I think you've served in the military for so many years, do you have any connections? Do you know how to sell these firearms?"

Wilson's face showed a hint of surprise upon hearing this, followed by a smile.

"Sir, you've come to the right person."

He took half a step forward, and his originally serious demeanor quickly disappeared, replaced by the roguishness of an old soldier.

"To be honest, when I was in the army, dealing in weapons was a regular occurrence."

Murphy, intrigued, leaned forward slightly. "Sure, doesn't that mean you have connections?"

Wilson smiled smugly upon hearing this.

"Of course, I've sold everything, from firearms and grenades to diesel fuel for the base, machine guns on armored vehicles, and deployment maps."

Upon hearing Wilson's words, Murphy's eyes widened in surprise.

"If you sell everything, how are you going to fight the war?"

"Fight? Sir, you overestimate those officials. They don't care how the battle is fought; they only care about making the reports look good."

"Besides, the brothers work themselves to the bone, and what can they do with that meager monthly allowance? They have to save up for half a month just to buy a Coke. If they don't earn some extra money, who's going to risk their lives for them?"

The office was silent for a few seconds.

Murphy tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table, then stood up, walked around the desk, and stood in front of Wilson.

"Since you're so familiar with this, I'll leave this to you. The factory's production line has been running for a while now, so figure out a way to sell all those guns piled up in the warehouse."

"Yes, sir."

"But sir, if you're short of money, I might be able to get you some tomorrow, but I'll need your authorization for the Wolf Pack squad's operations."

The so-called Wolf Pack Squad is actually Cheng Hongtu and his group, only now it's more formalized and has a unique name.

If a simplified version of the exoskeleton is produced later, its combat power could increase several times over.

"Okay, I'll authorize you right away. As for the specifics of how to proceed, just take the plan and submit it to Garcia for record-keeping."

"Understood, sir."

Wilson touched the ground with his heel and turned to leave.

"etc."

Suddenly Murphy called out to him, took a palm-sized metal box from the drawer, and pushed it over.

Wilson caught it and looked down at it.

"What is this?"

"An encrypted communicator, specially made by Skynet. We'll use this to communicate from now on."

"Yes, sir."

........................

Inside a two-story house surrounded by barbed wire in Houston's East Side.

"Bang!"

Looking at the chair he had smashed to pieces, Holt seemed still not satisfied. He grabbed the monitor from the table, raised it above his head, and slammed it to the ground.

As the leader of the Houston M-13, Holt had never felt so frustrated as recently.

"You dare touch my people! You dare touch my territory! Who the hell is that son of a bitch?!"

Recently, someone has dared to target him, and he doesn't know who it is.

Starting about two weeks ago, his territory has been plagued by a series of incidents.

First, the cold chain warehouse in the South District, with more than a dozen people, all disappeared overnight, not even one of them came back to report.

At first, Holt thought it was the work of the rival cripples or the dock rats.

But before he could find out the truth, something happened at the second base.

Then came the third, the fourth...

Sometimes it's used to collect protection money, and sometimes it's just a temporary warehouse for the gang.

The targets seemed random, but after so many attempts, Holt noticed something unusual.

Almost all of the strongholds that were taken down were his relatively profitable ones.

Moreover, they were extremely ruthless, leaving no survivors.

Houston is a big city, and although the 13th Gang has considerable power, it is not a monolithic entity. It is divided into several districts, each with its own leader.

Holt rose to the top position in Houston because of his ruthlessness and ability to control the situation.

But now, in less than a month, seven or eight blocks under his direct control have been hit one after another, and more than a hundred of his men have been killed!

Those who died weren't just some thugs from the periphery; most of them were his old buddies who were good at fighting and had been with him for years, and some were even his fellow countrymen he brought from El Salvador!

Just as Holt was furious, a series of hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.

"Boss! Boss!"

The door was pushed open, and Giles, the second-in-command, strode in. Seeing the mess on the floor, he paused instinctively.

When he saw Giles come in, Holt stiffened his neck and stared at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Has the matter been clarified?"

Giles swallowed hard. Although he didn't want to speak, he still recounted the findings of his investigation in the face of his boss's questioning.

"Boss, we checked, but... we didn't find anything."

Holt's eyes narrowed.

"Didn't they find anything?"

"Yes, boss."

Seeing that Holt was about to lose his temper, Giles quickly explained, "I've searched through every possible channel, but nobody knows who did it. However, I do find their deaths quite strange."

"What?"

Seeing that he had successfully changed the subject, Giles quickly said, "Boss, you've seen those brothers who died. Besides those who were shot, there were a few whose throats were crushed alive."

"No ordinary person has that kind of strength; it's obvious that an exoskeleton was used."

"Exoskeleton?! You're talking nonsense. There isn't a single one of those in the entire black market. Are you talking about the military? And if the military wanted to mess with us, they could just send a whole team. Why would they need to be so sneaky?"

"Besides, I've already contacted Edward, and there haven't been any major official actions lately. Those damn bureaucrats are busy watching the planetary engines and grabbing budgets; they don't have time to care about us."

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