I searched and fought in America.

Inside an office at the recycling center, there was a long wooden table around which a dozen or so men sat.

At this moment, their eyes were filled with disbelief as they looked at the gray oil block in the middle of the long table. For those of them in the recycling industry, this was a miracle.

The reason for this divine ability, as the Apostle Morris has already told them, is that God the Father was blessed by God and obtained the method to create the divine object that could solve this problem.

Caesar retrieved the oil barrels and, with a proud expression, addressed the crowd: "How was it?"

Everyone was still somewhat stunned when a thud was heard. A middle-aged black man was kneeling on the ground, looking at Rosen with a fanatical expression, and repeatedly muttering some blessings and eulogies.

The others then came to their senses, and their gazes toward Rosen had changed, now filled with more fervor than the previous reverence.

They followed the example of the middle-aged black man, kneeling on the ground and chanting the name of the Father.

Rosen sat at the head of the long table, his expression unreadable, simply sitting there quietly accepting the kneeling worship of the crowd.

In the United States, divine authority is truly a very useful thing!

Moreover, he possesses extraordinary abilities; he can truly unleash "miracles." Given this, why doesn't he make good use of it to help himself survive better in this country?

After kneeling for several minutes, Rosen finally spoke, telling everyone to sit back down.

Now it was time to get down to business. Rosen gave Morris a look, and Morris understood. He then stood up, took out a stack of documents, and passed them around to everyone.

Everyone looked at the documents in their hands with some doubt, and then looked at Rosen and the three apostles.

"As you can see, by God's will, we plan to establish a factory specifically for producing this substance."

Rosen got straight to the point, but he no longer needed to worry about whether anyone in the Iron Claw Gang would gossip.

Because at this moment, in the eyes of the Iron Claw Gang, Rosen was the incarnation of a god, and everything he said and did was correct.

Rosen glanced around the room and, finding no apparent opposition, turned to Caesar and said:

"Have you reached an agreement with that person regarding the source of the chemical substances?"

Caesar nodded, took out a document, and handed it to Rosen:

"It's all settled, Father! I spent the whole night in the tavern talking with that brat, Pomsa."

He also communicated with various factories, and the approximate prices were: corn starch $400 per ton, sodium hydroxide $110, ammonium sulfate $150, and bentonite $150.

I've compared prices, and this is already considered very affordable compared to other factories.

Rosen, while looking at the documents, said without turning his head:

"Can you guarantee the quality? It should at least be the quality we use in our experiments."

"The quality can certainly be guaranteed. He has found some large chemical plants, which have complete production chains, and the quality of the products they produce is generally quite consistent."

And he wouldn't dare take the defective product. If he did, I'd stuff him into an iron barrel.

Caesar grinned, clearly very confident, and then added...

"However, that kid set a condition: each item must be purchased in quantities of 50 tons or more at once to get this price. Otherwise, if the quantity is not large enough, an additional $20 per ton will be charged."

Morris sat to the side, a sheet of calculation paper spread out in front of him, and pursed his lips:

"A $20 increase? That's no small amount; that guy is really asking for the moon."

He then looked at Caesar, "Can't we press any lower?"

Caesar shook his head: "Ponsa said he also goes through the wholesale price from the big factories. If our quantity is too small, they definitely won't be willing to produce for us."

"Then let's buy more at once," Rosen decided immediately.

He looked at Maurice, "What about the factory? Is it ready?"

"Yes, it's been set up. The location is in the eastern suburbs of Texas, where it used to be a fertilizer processing plant."

It's 1200 square meters, very spacious, and the drainage system and other building facilities are quite complete.

Morris pushed over a photo of the factory taken from the sky.

"Most importantly, the rent is very cheap compared to the market price, only $2000 a month."

But the landlord is moving abroad and requires a five-year contract upfront. There's absolutely nothing inside; we even have to find our own moving tools.

"A five-year contract at once?" Rosen frowned. If something went wrong, he'd be stuck with this company. "Have you checked their backgrounds?"

"I checked it out. The house is very clean and there are no problems. The reason for the low price is that the landlord is in a hurry to cash out and leave, and doesn't want to deal with these properties anymore."

Morris answered truthfully.

Rosen fell silent, mentally calculating a bill.

The five-year rent is $12 paid in a lump sum. The initial cost of 50 tons of raw materials is approximately $4.

The staff are all our own people, so we can't treat them badly. If the salary is $5000 a month, then the monthly staff cost will be $6.

The Iron Claws currently have $18 in liquid funds in their accounts, plus the $6 they earn from the recycling center each month, so delivering the $16 shouldn't be a problem.

But the real hole is behind it.

To actually produce this kind of solid oil powder, a relatively sophisticated production line facility is definitely required.

The process of mass production in a factory is different from that in a laboratory. To make this powder, the four raw materials must first be processed to different specifications.

Moreover, each raw material must be processed two or three times consecutively, and the final product must be mixed in a specific ratio to obtain these powders.

Therefore, the required engineering facilities are not so simple and also require a certain degree of precision.

"How much does that production line cost?" Rosen asked.

He had previously sent Maurice to investigate the market for related facilities.

Morris said in a low voice, "I contacted some machinery dealers I had previously contacted, and from them I learned about some companies that sell these facilities at relatively low prices."

If you want to buy the complete package, even the cheapest option might cost $30…

As soon as the words were spoken, the men on both sides of the long table collectively gasped.

Rosen stopped what he was doing, a look of worry creeping onto his face.

Even though he still had $11 left over from completing the mission.

Even if all of it is put in, there will still be a staggering $30 shortfall from the total expenditure of $19.

That's equivalent to 130 million RMB. How could the Iron Claw Gang possibly afford to pay that?!

"How about... we take out a loan? There are a dozen or so of us brothers, and we're all clean-cut. If everyone goes to the bank with some money, plus cash advances from credit cards, we might be able to scrape together the 18," a man sitting at the end of the table suggested in a low voice.

Everyone turned their heads, their eyes showing a hint of interest.

"That makes sense, we can take out a loan."

"Yes, why don't we just take out a loan, Father? Let's give it a shot."

"Anyway, with this technology, I can break even in two or three months."

Rosen lowered his eyelids and directly reprimanded in a low voice.

That's enough.

Two words, not many, but the noise at the long table vanished instantly.