Asking for Money

In a conference room at Hive, hundreds of chairs are arranged in a circle, and nearly half of them are occupied by holographic projections.

These holographic projections whispered to each other, their expressions quite agitated.

Suddenly, the door opened, and the senior engineer was in front, followed by the mainframe computer. The appearance of this new face immediately attracted the attention of the others.

Wow, there are so many people here.

The senior engineer scanned the area and found that a total of 47 companies had gone online. It should be noted that although this corporate war had the largest number of participants, the number of companies was only slightly over one hundred.

Considering the companies that have already been eliminated, 47 companies have already been eliminated, which is half of the total.

This is certainly not because "Kabuto" has many connections; it's purely because the "biochemical brain-computer interface" technology is simply too powerful and too overpowered.

Being too powerful means being too dangerous.

Especially for brain-computer interface developers who take the mechanical route, if they cannot suppress it in the first wave, once it spreads, it will be like a virus, infiltrating everywhere.

"Who are you? Where's Kabuto?"

The mainframe eagerly pulled over a chair, helped the senior engineer sit down, and then said with a serious expression, "This gentleman is the newly appointed president of our Neural Editing Group. You can call him Mr. G."

"As for the previous 'Kabuto,' he has already stepped down and made way for a more capable person."

The moment the words "newly appointed," "president," and "stepping down to make way" were uttered, everyone immediately understood that Dou was out of the game.

However, nobody cared about the life or death of the owner of a new company; their only concern was the biochemical brain-computer interface.

"What's the situation now? Are you confident you can suppress—no, buy time?"

The speaker was a guy dressed in a black suit, heavily modified with mechanical features. What was most interesting about him was that his facial features were not implanted with bionic skin, but were mechanical, and the back of his head was bald with a coin-sized socket.

There's no doubt this is a brain-computer interface, but damn it's round! Are you kidding me?!

You have to understand that back in the days before the senior engineer time-traveled, mobile phone chargers only had Type-C, at most adding Apple and Android. Even headphone jacks were almost no longer round. And you, a brain-computer interface engineer, actually came up with a round jack!

Heresy, absolutely heresy!

The senior engineer remained silent, but another brain-computer interface developer followed up with a question.

"How many generations has the virus mutated to? How does it infect people, what special abilities does it have, and how can samples be obtained?"

There's a huge hole in the back of the other person's head!

"How strong are these modified individuals in combat?" another brain-computer interface developer asked.

The brain-computer interface is only the size of a toothpick, but unfortunately I don't eat noodles or use a sewing machine.

The senior engineer turned his head away, looking bored.

"What level of executive did Venus Life Safety Group send?" another person asked.

The triangular brain-computer interface is interesting, but why isn't it shaped like a plum blossom?

How have other biotech giants reacted to this?

A three-in-one brain-computer interface requires three data cables? Why not integrate it into one? Are you crazy?

What are your response methods?

Why is everyone else's brain located on the back of their head, while yours is on your forehead? Are you trying to get a laser treatment?

Why aren't you saying anything?

Damn, yours is even more amazing, it's actually a set-top box.

A group of people surrounded the senior engineer and bombarded him with questions, but he seemed to be in a daze. In the end, even the "mainframe" couldn't stand it anymore and coughed twice.

Boss, this isn't a case of the emperor not being worried but the eunuch being anxious; the fire is about to reach our doorstep, and we're on the front line of the fight against the enemy.

"Ahem," the senior engineer stood up solemnly, glanced around, and his domineering gaze silenced everyone. Then, with a cold face, he said:

"Let me put it this way, everyone, the questions you've asked aren't even questions in my opinion!"

The others' expressions tightened. Could this person be a hidden mastermind behind the transformation, or had he discovered a fatal flaw in some kind of biological brain-computer interface technology?

"Because I don't understand anything and I can't handle anything, I'm just a useless piece of trash!"

These domineering words shocked the entire audience, and no one spoke for a long time because they really didn't know what to say.

Finally, amidst a sea of incredulous stares, the 'Fuel-Powered Brain-Tracking Machine Developer' snapped out of his daze and shouted, "Who are you?!"

There wasn't a single idiot among those present, and similarly, no one would believe that someone who had taken down the neuro-editing group was purely brain-dead. In this experimental field, there was room for madmen to survive, but no room for idiots.

"Mr. G is the Executive Director of Dugo Group, Honorary Director of Mas, and the founder of biochips and mecha technology."

"The progenitor of hunters, the chief hunter of the Hunters' Tournament."

"The Human Completion Project was destroyed in the City That Never Sleeps."

"Some big shots in the digital world have put a bounty on him in the underworld."

"The female CEO's mistress."

Those present were all highly influential figures, and they quickly uncovered a person's entire resume, practically stripping him bare.

The senior engineer coughed lightly. "Except for the last one, the others are all nonsense, and I will not admit to them!"

"The Dugo Group has a lot of business cooperation with our company, but unfortunately we haven't cooperated in the corporate wars. Now, this is a good opportunity," a brain-computer interface developer tried to appeal to emotions.

Holy crap! It's you, 'round charging port,' oh no, I mean 'round brain-computer interface,' you heretic! Go back and whisper in Director Du's ear to make her cut off all business dealings with your family. People like you are bad for my family's feng shui!

The senior engineer snorted coldly, not bothering to answer at all.

"Dugo Technologies's military capabilities are on par with established military groups. We believe that you will be able to withstand this 'biological crisis'."

Everyone carries the sedan chair, but if you carry it, I won't.

"If 'biochemical brain-computer interfaces' are allowed to spread, it won't be a good thing even for your company!"

This is the threat theory school.

"Does your family know how to build nuclear bombs? I can provide a large quantity of raw materials for the shaft."

This is... the anti-human faction.

The senior engineer sighed and said, "What you all say makes sense, but I don't have any say in the company. I have no power at all. I'm just a gigolo who gets up at the crack of dawn."

"..." The crowd.

You shameless bastard!

"To be frank, what price will you have to pay to control this 'biochemical brain-computer interface'?"

Seeing the senior engineer feigning ignorance and acting like a fool, someone finally started to speak like a human being.

"Sigh, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you should also know that most of our military forces are in the Northern Hemisphere, serving the 'Saint Brain Group.' We have a very strict contract with them, and the boss of the Saint Brain Group is such a powerful person..."

The senior engineer suddenly transformed into a broken record, launching into a long, drawn-out tirade, which boiled down to three words: more money!

After a moment of hesitation—

"Our group is willing to provide a sponsorship fee of 2 billion to your group!"

"We'll offer 3 billion. Our demands aren't high; we just want you to keep the 'Biochemical Brain-Computer Interface' within this continent!"

"We'll offer 1.5 billion!"

"We'll offer 1 billion!"

These 40 or 50 companies, each contributing their own ideas, eventually managed to scrape together 50 billion yuan in labor costs.

Compared to the enormous revenue that the "Electronic Brain Project" could generate, the slight losses are still within an acceptable range.

"Actually, I don't care about money. I have no interest in money at all," the senior engineer said seriously. "Our goal is simply to serve the public and create more convenience for people."

The others were full of questions. "Brother, you're a military group, an arms dealer. What kind of convenience are you creating for the people? Zero-dollar purchases?"

"However, because we started late and from a low starting point, we haven't had enough technology to upgrade and provide consumers with an excellent experience. If kind people can help us in these areas, then without a doubt, we are confident that we can save the world and handle this crisis!"

Everyone's expression changed. It was one thing for him to want money, but judging from his appearance, he was here to take their lives!