Old Qiao irritably scratched at his shoulder—a remarkably human gesture, as if it were a habit left over from when he still possessed flesh and blood—then his gaze fell on the Blonde Elf before him once more. Dangerous light flickered in the optical sensors deeply embedded in his protective crystal, while anger and an uncontrollable urge to destroy surged through his logic chip.
This meat person, this antisocial rat, this experimental material that had escaped from the laboratory, this woman who had even climbed onto his head for a time—she was always so damn lucky. Even after such a terrible accident, she had returned here completely unharmed. Every move the Blonde Elf made seemed like a silent taunt and provocation, and the fearless calm in her eyes now disgusted him even more.
"I thought that after all these years of adaptation, you'd have learned the rules. At the very least, you should have learned to respect your 'senior,'" Old Qiao said casually, seemingly unconcerned by the weapons clutched by the two guards nearby. "You have nothing left now. I know you must still be hiding some unsavory 'little secrets,' but they're nothing before Group Corporation. More importantly, your failure has spread throughout the Group's internal network. The losses suffered by the Vanguard Laboratory, along with the increased costs caused by the impact on the trade routes, will all be charged to you."
He paused there, and his expression seemed to calm somewhat. "Do I need to remind you? You're already a dead person on the Group's roster. A dead person's debts could originally have been written off in one stroke, but it seems you clearly don't want to 'die' yet. You came to ask for my help, so you need to show the sincerity expected of someone seeking assistance."
"Exactly.