Yulia glared at him.
"What did you say? You want to team up with me?"
Li Pan nodded—he wasn't joking.
Emiliya? The woman who dug a pit for him—she could sell herself for all he cared.
"Why waste time with the guard dog when I can talk straight to the master? The only remaining prince here hasn't awakened yet, and it looks like you're close to locking down the Elder Council. Soon 0791 will be yours. If I'm going after the Grail, it's only proper to notify the owners."
Yulia stared at him like he was insane.
"Talk? Manager Li, what is there to talk about? Without the Grail we can't suppress blood-hunger. Without it we can't stay in one plane long-term; we'd have to sell whatever we've conquered. We finally found a usable Grail in 0791—do you think Night will let it go?"
Li Pan smiled, thumb up.
"Vision. That's how a boss thinks. A few trillion up or down isn't the point anymore, right? Okay, no riddles—here's my read.
"Your husband, Pompeius, used this opening to ascend to Prince and grab the regent's chair; he'll have enemies everywhere and a shaky base, correct? If not, why force a second vacancy? One should have been enough—if it were safe.
"And Night isn't a Committee member; getting twelve legions here won't be fast. Before he arrives you have to stand in front. Ready to take the heat like the Archduchess did? Without merit or muscle, can you keep the seat?
"Tell me you don't need an ally.
"And one more thing: recovering the Grail earns more credit than merely guarding it, doesn't it?"
Yulia's eyes sharpened.
She didn't summon the rings of android bodyguards outside; Li Pan knew he was halfway there.
His mouth dry, he cracked the minibar. No soda—only blood wine. He poured her a glass.
"Miss Yulia, daughter of the chief regent—why aren't you enjoying life at the imperial core? Why come to this backwater and roll around with natives? Don't tell me it's just a kink.
"I think we understand each other.
"We're not washed-up types looking for one last score before we bolt.
"We're climbers. We want attention from above, fame, merit, money, and to climb all the way to the top to take the helm.
"With that ambition, there's room to cooperate.
"I don't need your Grail to fix hunger. I want the Grail for name and profit. And you want both too, right?
"Two princes just died; Night is chaos; there are internal traitors eager to shoulder the blame. Losing the Grail now… is perfect—none of it touches you.
"If I secure the Grail and hit TheM's target, I won't flip it. I'll lease it back to Night with financial compensation. You'll keep using it.
"Once my seat is steady, I can let you—or your husband—'buy it back' at a sweetheart price. Credit for you. Win-win."
Yulia frowned.
"Would your company really sit still for a buyback?"
Li Pan shrugged and handed her the glass.
"Of course. TheM makes monsters to trade them. And we have several Grails; the marginal research value is trivial.
"In times like these, swapping a 'nice-to-have' for a stable ally is good business.
"I'm not a lunatic; one prince died by my hand and another indirectly. I want to improve relations.
"Do you want me to storm your Senate until everyone votes surrender? What for? I risk my life and don't get paid."
Yulia hesitated and took the glass.
"I need to speak with my father."
"As you should. That puts me at ease. We're all here to make money—everything's negotiable."
She studied him, sipped.
"So how much do you want?"
Li Pan rubbed his chin.
"Let's start with one trillion."
"Pft—cough, cough! What?"
She sprayed wine; her chest was soaked, gauze turning translucent.
Li Pan licked his lips. He didn't plan to eat the whole pie anyway; Panlong Construction can't even handle that flow. But you open high.
"Relax. Let's do the math. That 'trillion' is the war chest for the bidding war. Capturing the Grail is a KPI; I'm not playing games.
"Option A: declare bidding war and slug it out for a decade with fleets and legions. I'm a pacifist. So, Option B:
"— 100 billion to execute: con, pinch, steal, ambush… I do the dirty work; you stay clean.
"— 500 billion as compensation to Night: lease the Grail for 100 years.
"— 400 billion for lobbying. I'll use half on my side; I leave 200 billion for you to swing the Elder Council to approve the Grail Lease with TheM. Whatever's left is yours.
"The Grail sits in TheM storage with my signature; day-to-day use decisions are yours. Still nervous? When your husband arrives with the legions, we stage a show and sign the Grail Buyback—list it at, say, one trillion, or payable in assets/equity as long as TheM isn't underwater.
"When the lease matures, title transfers. TheM keeps its word. We don't claw back what we've sold.
"Bottom line: for 500 billion, Night buys permanent title to the 0791 Grail and secures a cash-and-interests partnership with TheM. You lock Julius supremacy in 0791 and pocket 200 billion, plus practical control of use.
"We can tweak deal points. Such contracts need HQ's stamp; today I'm speaking for the company.
"And since your side gets the biggest slice and this plan is my design, grease me a little. Nothing huge: in TheM, buybacks pay a 0.2% fee. For the lease, match it: 0.2% of your 200 billion—4 billion to me.
"I get that raising that without First Reserve Bank sniffing around is hard. So give me just 10% as earnest. Once 400 million hits my account, we start."
Yulia listened in silence, downed three glasses, then took the bottle.
"G-give me time… I need to think…"
Li Pan watched her like a man seeing his own face recently lit by a trillion. Even from her side, this was irresistible:
— The lost Grail is someone else's fault.
— 200 billion of lobby money and use control during the lease.
— If there's a buyback, Night "recovers" the Grail and locks 0791: prestige and power off the charts.
— Much better than burning hundreds of billions and half a century of war.
"What's wrong, great lady Julius—can't scrape up 400 million? How can I close a twelve-digit deal then? If you can't, I'll offer it to another regent. The Senate has plenty of takers."
He stood on purpose.
Yulia flared red and breathed hard.
"Wait! One day. I'll talk to my… father…"
"One day? I don't have one day. Tomorrow morning I submit my proposal. You get one night. Yulia, how many years have you lived? Still under Daddy's shadow? Is that why he dumped you in this backwater to keep the bed cold?
"If I were you and a chance like this hit me in the face, forget Dad and husband—I'd go solo. Not just 0791—I'd take all of Night."
Yulia panted, emptied the bottle, tossed it, and grabbed his collar.
"What, pay in kind? No discounts for sex."
"I have a trust disorder. I don't trust men I haven't slept with. Drop your pants."
"Huh? We only do the deal if we sleep together?"
"Less yapping. We do it, then we sign."
What a quirk… In this world, sometimes you deploy the pillow-sales technique.
After a night of "technical consultation," Yulia finally yielded: alliance sealed. This time there was a real e-contract with Yulia's signature and seal: an earnest package worth 4 billion in checks, asset authorizations, and equity transfers, valid from the next settlement date.
Li Pan didn't rush to cash anything—these were earnest funds, refundable if HQ refused. With the magnitude and Yulia's security authorization, he had enough to go upstairs.
"The Grail! The bidding war! It's a trap!"
08:00, conference room. Managers riffled through Li Pan's "essay;" he spoke, all fire and doom.
"…The Pacific wasn't built in a day. The Collector Association and Fabius family have history. Add Security's moves, and it's clear: a backer in the Committee is reaching in to cut TheM.
0791 is a premapped kill-box.
Since 01044 we've danced to their tune. Keep this up and they'll just bleed us.
"I sense the Collector will spark something huge on the ground—hundreds of millions dead. Without concentrating our A-team, we won't put it out. Recalibrate: even with everything, we may not hold the high ground.
"Worse: a slow one-for-one grind erodes us—capacity drops, cards exposed, allies cool, halo fades, rating slips, respect evaporates.
At the break point, TheM could be pushed out of the Committee, with every ACA hound piling on.
No seat, no prime stargate.
And if our core is tied down in 0791, our assets everywhere else are fair game.
"My proposal is the opposite: preemptive strike. They want a Grail war? We oblige. Smoke them out and finish them.
There's only one way to win: open with an overwhelming advantage. Every other end state is a loss."
He slapped the draft Grail Lease and Buyback contracts on the table.
"First: allies. Night—or rather, First Reserve Bank behind Night. Finance doesn't compete with us directly; a Fabius here or there may have ACA ties, but not all of them. Let's avoid pushing them to the other camp.
"The Julius/Pompeius bloc has bitten. If the Lease goes through, ACA moles in the chamber will misread our posture.
"Under the bidding-war cover, we build Callisto to the hilt—orbital fortress, expanded fleet, clone/biobody base.
Therefore I request, aside from the bidding funds, an extra war budget of 300 billion:
— Promote 0791's fleet to main force,
— Three super-flag groups at full strength,
— Erect a company stargate in 0791,
— Not just a depot in orbit—a star-city.
"Let them misjudge us. And the moment they move, we hit with everything—break their claws and drive them off our turf."
Silence. No one spoke, not even 01.
The crystal radio hissed.
General Manager 01 spoke:
"Rejected."
Li Pan sighed.
What a waste—the lever to switch the tracks was right there, and they balked.
If the board won't be the one to move the switch, he's just the guy holding the flush chain as the train rolls over a billion—and maybe the 13.9 behind them.
Run with the money? To where, in these knife-lined multiverses?
Do it himself? Without support, can he handle Duan Kecheng? Hard. The Expulsion Pen—the one clean kill—was taken on day one.
Even with Li Xuehong and all Agents/007 combined, the Blood God doesn't fall short of Refine-Spirit-Return-to-Void.
And even then, the board doesn't change: the Maw is next door; Collector vs TheM is coming; a billion is small pasture.
If TheM can't step up, he'll have to jump to the Cult and find ways to cut the sheep count…
The radio crackled again.
"Board decision: no cap on the war budget."
…Huh?
"The rest per 0791001's plan, with changes:
— Promote 0791 to main fleet with three super-flag groups at full.
— To maintain cover, build a stargate in 0791 immediately.
— Callisto's military buildup can't be hidden.
— In 0791 orbit, not a bastion—a star-city.
"0791, anything else?"
"…Thank you for the new appointment?"
"Go to work. Meeting adjourned."
People filed out. Li Pan sat in the dark a moment before it sank in.
…What the—?
Did the company really buy it?
Then… the Big Plan… is on?
.
.
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
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