Excessive ferocity due to caution

Inside a magnificent hall, a dozen or so people sat on either side of a square parliamentary table.

There are men and women.

However, it is not difficult to tell from their clothing or demeanor that they are all from the upper class of society.

Unfortunately, their complexions didn't match their clothes.

These people looked terrible.

"Mr. Whiteman, I'm sorry to interrupt..."

The middle-aged man with a slicked-back Mediterranean hairstyle spoke in a deep voice.

"We have absolutely no interest in Orion Corporation."

"We just want to know, how much benefit will Orion's mysterious research bring to all of us?"

"Although it might seem beneath me to talk about this now, there are precedents to this. If Orion doesn't sign some special guarantee contracts, you'll probably have a hard time convincing people to invest in Orion."

As soon as the middle-aged man finished speaking, Whiteman, who was talking at length about the future of Orion Corporation, stopped.

Faced with the skeptical gazes of the audience on either side of the table, Buttman's excited expression gradually faded.

The happiness I had previously indulged in, lost in my own fantasy world, was shattered like a bubble.

He picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip of tea.

"You want a contract?"

Bettman asked this question.

"Yes, Mr. Buttman."

The middle-aged man held his own teacup to his nose and smelled it.

Then pour it out.

"Also, your tea smells nice, but I don't like tea. I prefer red wine... Next time we discuss something, please don't prepare such a tasteless and bland drink."

"The poor always see it as a cure for their poverty, but it's really just a way to mask their destitution. Casually picking at some flowers and plants is crude and vulgar!"

"I'd rather drink the water from my toilet than drink this."

Whiteman's grip on the teacup gradually tightened.

His handsome face showed no sign of discomfort.

"Butler, prepare the finest red wine for our esteemed Lord Picus."

"We need to be quick."

As the old butler left, Picas smiled victoriously and raised his glass to Whiteman in the air, saying:

"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Bai."

"Then, the next step is the contract."

"Everyone invests in this company to make money. The fact that our last investment went down the drain has put Orion's reputation in jeopardy... To be honest, the only reason we're willing to come here and listen to you talk about these meaningless things is because we still have some old friendships with you."

"But human relationships, like credit, are not a bottomless pit that can be exploited indefinitely."

"If you have a sound contract system, then I think it's not impossible for us to give Orion another chance."

Buttman sat sideways in his seat without replying.

Seeing this, Picard's tone lifted slightly:

"Mr. Bai, your silence is going to wear down everyone's patience."

Whiteman scratched his ear and said casually:

"I will consider the contract as soon as possible. Please leave now..."

Seeing that he had given them the order to leave, Picas and the others didn't say anything more.

Among those present were all social elites and the wealthiest people in V City. They were completely unconcerned about the "sheepfold" and "rule" that Whiteman was talking about.

They only care about whether the amount of money flowing into their own pockets has increased.

With more money, things will naturally be done correctly.

After these people left, Whiteman suddenly stood up, his eyes gleaming with a murderous intent. He flew into a rage, picked up the chair next to him, and began smashing it wildly!

"A bunch of short-sighted rats!"

"waste!"

"idiot!"

"What use are you all?!"

"ah!!"

Whiteman had wrecked the place, leaving it in a mess, and his hands were covered in blood from accidental cuts before he finally calmed down and began to breathe slightly.

"Once I successfully research that thing..."

"You damned dogs are going to be the first to be sacrificed to the heavens!"

His gaze was as sharp as a wolfhound's. The butler cautiously entered, handed the gauze to Whiteman, and asked Whiteman:

"Mr. Bai...would you like some more red wine?"

Whiteman bandaged his injured hand and said calmly:

"No."

"Red wine is for elegant people. A bunch of arrogant and ignorant fools are not worthy of drinking red wine."

The butler nodded.

Not long after, he received a phone call.

"I see."

After hanging up, he immediately said to Whiteman:

"Mr. Bai, Sata is here. When would you like to see him?"

Whiteman's eyes flashed.

"Now..."

He went out, quickly changed into a new, pristine white suit, and met with Sata, who had just arrived, in the garden of the manor.

"General Sata, thank you for coming!"

A polite and elegant smile returned to Buttmann's face.

The two sat by a fishpond, drinking freshly squeezed watermelon juice and fishing.

"I heard that Orion Corporation is currently researching...weapons?"

Sata didn't mince words and went straight to the point.

Whiteman:

"Yes."

"Furthermore... Admiral Sata should have heard of the weapons Orion is researching."

Sata slurped up a mouthful of watermelon juice.

"I've heard of it?"

"That's right."

Tell me about it.

"God falls."

Sata stopped drinking the watermelon juice.

The light in his eyes also changed noticeably.

"impossible!"

Faced with Sata's disbelief, Whiteman slowly said:

"Nothing is impossible, Admiral Sata."

"If you have enough money, you can buy everything that is a product of human civilization."

Sata fell silent.

"Unfortunately... the data and samples of the Godfall we obtained are incomplete, and the military has not fully researched this weapon either, so everything is still unknown."

"Orion Corporation recently lost a significant amount of assets precisely because of its research on Godfall."

"About ten days ago, our research made substantial progress. The most difficult problem that had been troubling us was solved. Now... all it takes is a lot of experimentation and time for the perfect Godfall to appear before everyone's eyes!"

Sata narrowed his eyes as he watched Whiteman's increasingly crazed expression.

Why did you contact me?

"I can't give you money."

Whiteman's tone was utterly insane.

"Yes... General Sata."

"You really can't give me money."

"But you have a large number of soldiers and a large stockpile of weapons..."

"These things are the real 'wealth'!"

Sa!

No sooner had Whiteman finished speaking than Sata suddenly sprang up, grabbing Whiteman's throat with one hand and lifting the 150-pound Whiteman up alive!

"You...are spying on me?"

Sata's tone turned extremely cold.

PS: First update.

He's still alive and can still write.