The provincial government building, conference room.
Six negotiation experts flipped through documents, leaning toward one another to exchange opinions in hushed voices.
Though nothing showed on the surface, their little tells—shallow, deep breaths, frequently wiping their palms on their trouser legs, or unconsciously bouncing their knees—gave away their nerves.
One of them had presided over major business negotiations.
Another worked in international affairs for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
One was an expert in microexpressions.
They had seen countless high-stakes situations and had nerves of steel.
But faced with possibly the most powerful human being in history, an existence who could stand shoulder to shoulder with a Barbarian God, they couldn't help letting their nerves show.
The conference room was fairly quiet, with only the rustle of paper and the soft murmur of whispers.
This negotiation was a real headache.
First of all, the value of True God Meat was impossible to estimate. How to price it was a problem in itself.
It had never appeared on the market. It had only surfaced once on the black market, at a price of a hundred million dollars per pound, roughly half a kilogram. But the supply had been vanishingly scarce, and with demand through the roof, that price was no use as a reference.
This time, they weren't talking about ten or a hundred jin.
Nor were they talking about one or two tons.
They were talking about five hundred tons—one million jin. At that price, it came to 110 trillion dollars.
No country could afford such an enormous price, unless they sold the Great Xia Nation.
But reducing it to the price of pork clearly wouldn't work either.
A figure capable of contending with a True God was someone any country would have to treat with the utmost caution. The