"Boy, Rogue Trader Reck·Vance asked me to send a message. He wants to negotiate a deal with you."
Nowadays, there is no one else who dares to call Fu Haoran "boy" so carelessly. Except for the senior Yuri, there is no other one in Alpha Hive City.
Fu Haoran doesn't care about Yuri's attitude. As long as things can be done well, he never cares about these small verbal details.
"It's him again? What deal does he want to discuss?"
Although he had issues with the other party before, Fu Haoran has never had issues with money.
"I don't know, but based on my understanding of these Rogue Traders, he will never go to Hive City himself without a big deal."
Fu Haoran agrees with this sentence very much. Rogue Trader is half a pirate. He values interests more than life.
"Okay, let's arrange it in the Governor's Office reception room. I'll go meet you."
Governor's Office reception room.
Reck·Vance is sitting on the sofa, the mechanical monocle in his left eye is shining with light blue light, and his fingertips are rubbing the gilded parchment contract.
This was not his first time dealing with Fu Haoran, but every time he came to this Hive City, he felt an inexplicable sense of disharmony.
This place is too clean and orderly. It is completely different from the chaos of other Hive City in the empire that is mixed with Promethium exhaust gas, Corpse Starch stench and blood smell.
The door opened and Fu Haoran walked in with a standard business smile on his face, "Mr. Vance, what kind of wind brought you here."
"Governor Fu was joking." Reck·Vance stood up and bowed and saluted. Without any nonsense, he got straight to the point, "I have been entrusted by the Little Manting Star System Trade Guild to negotiate a deal with the Governor that will ensure a profit without losing any money."
"I know you are at war, so there must be quite a few corpses on hand."
"I just happened to have received long-term orders from several nearby Forge Worlds, and I want to purchase a batch of Wetwares for them."
Rogue Trader spread the parchment contract on the table and introduced, "General Servitor, one for 6 Throne Coin; one for Servo-Skull, and one for 5 Throne Coin."
"Delivery will start the month after signing the contract. The minimum monthly delivery volume is 300,000 units. There is no upper limit. We will charge you as much as you can.""
He raised his eyes and looked at Fu Haoran, and the mechanical lens flashed with light. "At this price, you can't find another buyer willing to pay this price for the entire Little Manting Star System."
Fu Haoran looked at Yuri calmly, who nodded heavily, unable to hide the excitement in his eyes.
Fu Haoran picked up the tea cup and took a sip, thinking quickly in his mind.
"The head that was collected for 50 US dollars can be sold as a finished product for 5 Throne Coin, which is equivalent to nearly 1,000 U. S. dollars. The profit has increased nearly twenty times, and the volume is pure huge profit."
"However, the contract is very clear. If the payment is cut off without reason, three times the liquidated damages will be paid, and the contract will last for a full year."
"There are no mines buried here, I absolutely don't believe it."
Fu Haoran never believes in good things like pie-in-the-sky. If there is, then there must be a liar behind it.
After thinking for a moment, he figured out the other party's entire plan in an instant.
"It seems that the other party is determined that I will not be able to meet my monthly payments and is waiting for me to pay a huge sum of money for breach of contract. They even want to rely on this long-term contract to lock up all my Wetware production capacity and directly cut off the core supply chain of the drone swarm."
Fu Haoran couldn't help but laugh.
It's not that the contract is tricky, but that the trap is too simple.
"One month of Warhammer World corresponds to a full year of 2K World."
"This one-year contract corresponds to 2K World for a full ten years. Even if only the first half of the year is counted, there are still five years to fulfill the contract."
"United States It is conservatively estimated that there are over a million accidental deaths, gunshot deaths, and unclaimed homeless remains every year."
"Don't mention the monthly payment of 300,000 yuan, even if the monthly payment is 500,000 yuan, there is no pressure.
"You want to dig a trap for me to jump into? It's a pity that you don't know that I have a cross-world cheat. It's not certain who will trap who."
"The only thing we have to worry about is whether the company's account can support the cash flow from the early collection and storage. Alas, the landlord's family doesn't have any food left, so they have to spend money everywhere."
Thinking of this, Fu Haoran read the contract from beginning to end, and looked up at Vance: "Where are the inspection standards?"
Vance's eyes flashed, and he answered immediately, "Of course it is on-site inspection by Tech-Priest designated by us. If the sanctification process is compliant and the functions are up to standard, it will be considered qualified. This puts everyone at ease."
"Okay, but I have additional requirements." Fu Haoran picked up the pen and directly changed two core terms in the contract.
"First, on-site inspection and on-site delivery will not be returned after passing the inspection, and any subsequent liability or quality claims will not be accepted."
"Second, the payment must be settled on the spot, and the money must be paid in one hand and delivered in the same hand. Any form of credit is not supported."
After making the changes, Fu Haoran threw the contract back and said in a calm tone, "If you can accept it, just sign it. If you can't, the door is over there."
Reck·Vance looked at the revised terms and instead of objecting, he asked with feigned concern, "Your Excellency, your Excellency, is 300,000 pieces of Wetware a month too much? Do you want to lower the minimum delivery quantity?"
"Don't worry, I can handle it." Fu Haoran was confident.
Reck·Vance had a polite smile on his lips, but his heart was full of contempt. "Humph! You idiot, you dug a hole for yourself."
"Do you really think that Hive City can do whatever he wants if there are more people? Don't think about it. When the war gets serious, the corpses of these Lower Hive guys will be food reserves."
"Sell them all to me, What will Lower Hive guys eat? Then I will join forces with the grain dealers to raise the price of grains, kill you hard, and spit out all the money you have eaten, including the profits."
"If you don't agree, I will make it impossible for you to eat. Then the hungry Lower Hive guys will definitely rebel. Then you, the governor, will shed your skin even if you don't die."
He had even thought of a follow-up trick: as soon as Fu Haoran started delivering goods, he would immediately spread rumors on Hive City, slandering Fu Haoran for massacring Lower Hive civilians and desecrating the dead in order to complete the monthly payment.
Once the news spreads, the Lower Hive people who already have a grudge against Governor's Office will inevitably riot, especially the sect that believes in Four-Armed Emperor. If they know that their governor is profiting from the corpses of believers, the scene will be particularly exciting.
Thinking of this, Reck·Vance looked at Fu Haoran again and found that the other party did not realize the seriousness of the problem at all and put his own genetic imprint on it.
Reck·Vance also signed his name and immediately picked up the wine glass.
"Wish us a happy cooperation, cheers!"
Both sides picked up their wine glasses and drank them all in one gulp.
It was just that when the two of them raised their heads to drink, their eyes were filled with unabashed contempt for each other, and they both cursed each other in their hearts.
They are all thousand-year-old foxes, what kind of fairy tales are they playing?
[Ding! Trigger the main task: Sucker Support Plan]
[Task requirements: Since there is an enemy who actively pays the bill, why are you so polite? Go to hell! Within 6 months of Warhammer World, deliver no less than 3.6 million units of qualified Wetware products; over-delivery to 5 million units will unlock additional excess rewards]
[Basic mission reward: Unlock the full model production drawings of Scout Sentinel]
[Excess mission reward: free attribute points +3, Universal Points manual +1000]
Fu Haoran looked at System Panel with a smile on his lips.
There is no reason not to use the technology you get for free.
Looking at the cheerful Fu Haoran, Vance seemed to have seen the miserable situation of the other party making a lot of money, but then being slaughtered by himself and finally being reduced to a lamb to be slaughtered.
Reck·Vance walked out of Governor's Office and got into his luxurious floating car. The polite smile on his face disappeared without a trace.
He took out his encrypted communicator and dialed Octavius's dedicated line. In the holographic projection, Octavius's sinister face appeared on the screen.
"Master Earl, the fish is hooked." Reck·Vance bowed slightly and spoke respectfully.
Octavius leaned on the command chair with a fierce smile on his lips, "Well done. Once he locks all the corpse production capacity in the contract, I will let him know the consequences of going against the imperial nobles."
"Earl, don't worry, I will take care of the follow-up matters." Reck·Vance smiled and hung up the communication.
Octavius has to earn the commission and the price difference of the contract. Even if Octavius loses in the end, he can still make a steady profit by relying on the long-term supply contract with Fu Haoran.
Taking advantage of both sides and always holding the interests in your own hands is Rogue Trader's rule of survival in the dangerous sea of stars.
After Vance left, Fu Haoran did not delay, stepped into the portal, and returned to 2K World again.
"Jimmy, register a new company immediately. The main direction is brain-computer interface and brain science research and development."
"Huh?" Although Fu Haoran has long been accustomed to Fu Haoran's unconventional and crazy cross-border operations, after hearing the sci-fi term "brain-computer interface", Jimmy still suspected that he had heard it wrong.
"Boss, what do you mean - to make an interface that can be implanted in the back of the head?"
"Yes, it's what you think." Fu Haoran nodded.
"But - but this - how do you plan to achieve profitability?" Jimmy still felt that this proposal was too ridiculous and could not understand the boss's thinking at all.
Fu Haoran rolled his eyes and said casually, "Jimmy, how many of the people taught by Happy Education do you think have the brains to install knowledge? If our brain-computer interface can directly instill knowledge into people, do you think there is a market?"
Jimmy's eyes lit up instantly.
That's right! Why didn't I think of that!
"Okay boss! I will register the company immediately and form a team to make a business plan!"
Fu Haoran nodded with satisfaction and sent the person away.
He just casually found a perfect compliance excuse. On the surface, it was for brain science research and development, but in fact, it was to cover up the global body collection and storage business. However, he never expected that this casual remark would become one of the most profitable products of DYB Group in the future, and even set off a brain science revolution that swept the world.
On the other side, Manuel Garcia, who is far away from Colombia, is living a very happy life during this period.
At first, he thought that the new boss would be like the previous drug lords, forcing him to fight for territory and sell drugs. But almost a year had passed, and the new boss had not assigned him any dirty work, and it seemed as if he had completely forgotten about him.
Suddenly, a strange cell phone ringtone rang, so that Manuel didn't react for a long time.
"Head, it's the exclusive encrypted phone you're carrying given to you by your boss!" his subordinate immediately reminded him.
Manuel was instantly startled and hurriedly took out the cell phone that had never rang. After connecting the phone, Ms. JARVIS's smooth voice came from the other side. "Mr. Manuel, on behalf of the master, I will assign you a long-term mission."
"The headquarters requires you to steadily purchase 100,000 complete and compliant corpses every year. The dedicated funds will be transferred to your account immediately. You need to establish supporting low-temperature cold storage and compliant collection and storage channels in the local area. The headquarters will regularly send people to receive them."
"The comprehensive acquisition cost of each body should not exceed US$600, and the remaining funds are all at your personal disposal.
Manuel held up the phone and was stunned for three seconds.
He thought that his boss would ask him to sell drugs, engage in gun smuggling, and engage in arms smuggling, but he never thought that what his boss asked him to do was to cooperate with hospitals and funeral agencies to collect remains?
Or is there a sufficient budget for $600?
Manuel immediately realized that this was not a task. The boss was clearly giving him money!
He immediately straightened his back and spoke with the utmost respect, "Please tell the master to ensure that the task is completed! Not only Colombia, but also the surrounding channels of Venezuela, Peru, and Ecuador. I can also open up all the channels. I can steadily receive 200,000 items a year without any problem!"
After hanging up the phone, Manuel's eyes lit up when he looked at the huge amount of special funds that had arrived instantly on his phone.
Isn't it just a formal collection of remains?
It's a hundred times safer than drug trafficking, and you can still make a huge profit difference. This kind of good thing can't be found with a lantern!
After dealing with the Wetware supply chain matter, before Fu Haoran could take a breath, Wade quickly walked in and reported an unexpected news.
"Boss, Locke Sid Martin's delegation is here. The team is led by Samuel·Hendricks, the global general manager of the F-35 project. He is also accompanied by Gregory·Tom sen, the former chief engineer of the F-22 project."
Fu Haoran is a little surprised.
"Why do these two masters who are so incompatible with me suddenly come to look for me?"
"Can you not see them?" Fu Haoran looked at Jimmy.
"Boss, I suggest you better meet. With Locke Sid Martin's important position in United States Congress, it is not a good thing to completely offend them."
Fu Haoran thought so, so he stood up and straightened his collar. "Let's go and meet them."
In the reception room of the DYB headquarters factory, a tall, thin and bald old man was walking around with an impatient expression. He was none other than Gregory·Tom sen, the former general manager and chief engineer of the F-22 project.
"Mr. Hendricks, we are completely wasting our time." Gregory said dissatisfiedly, his tone full of arrogance that was engraved in his bones.
"Even if they get the entire F-22 production line, it's impossible to resume production."
"They don't have complete process drawings, they don't have skilled certified aviation mechanics, they don't have enough senior engineers, and they don't have a person in charge like me who is familiar with the entire project process.
Hendricks looks like a typical Wall Street elite, in his early forties, with a well-proportioned figure and decent manners.
He shook his head and said calmly, "Mr. Gregory, I believe in your professionalism, but I must remind you that the purpose of our trip is not only to evaluate whether the other party has the ability to resume production of the F-22 production line, but also to get concrete evidence that the F-22 cannot resume production, go back and report to Congress, and fully promote global orders for the F-35."
"Therefore, we must nip all possibilities in the cradle."
Gregory frowned, and his tone became more determined. "I still say the same thing, no one in this world can resume production of F-22 fighter jets except us Locke Sid Martin!"
"No one!"
Hendricks has a little headache.
Gregory This little old man has a temper as stubborn as a cow, and his arrogance is engraved in his DNA. He always firmly believes that the technical barriers of the Angsa race can never be overcome.
Although Hendricks also agrees with this point of view, he will not have trouble with money because of it.
He only believes in data and the results he has seen with his own eyes, not to mention that he knows nothing about technology. Even if he resents Gregory's bad temper, he must recruit industry leaders to endorse his report.
At this time, a staff member pushed the door open and said politely, "Please follow me, Mr. Fu has arranged for me to take you to visit the factory."
Hendricks immediately stood up to follow, and the entourage got up one after another. Gregory saw that no one stayed with him, so he could only reluctantly follow the team.
Everyone came to the first workshop, the door was open, and everything they could see was MiG-25, MiG-31, and Su-27.
Among other things, there are modified parts for Soviet fighter jets, and the power systems of several aircraft are being overhauled.
Young workers shuttled among them, some were replacing the skin, and some were debugging the flight control. Their movements were not very skillful, but they were orderly.
Gregory glanced at it and sneered, his tone full of undisguised disdain. "It is only worthy of destroying the rags left over from the Soviet Union period."
Hendricks's face was expressionless, his fingertips made a stroke on his notebook, and he said nothing.
Everyone walked into the second workshop.
What comes into view is a complete pulsating production line for fighter aircraft final assembly.
At the scene, the titanium alloy frames of more than a dozen F-22 fuselages were lined up neatly along high-precision slide rails, pulsing slowly and steadily from one station to the next in accordance with the set rhythm.
This scene directly caused Hendricks, Gregory and others to freeze in place, with their footsteps as if they were nailed to the ground.
Hendricks's eyes widened with anger, and he suddenly turned his head to look at Gregory, his eyes full of unkindness and questioning.
Before coming, the old man had just patted his chest and assured that the other party could not even touch the sides of the F-22, and could not even build a complete fuselage frame.
Gregory's face turned red and white. He quickly rushed to the fuselage frame and scanned it inside and out. His hanging heart instantly relaxed, and the corners of his mouth raised that arrogant arc again.
"Mr. Hendricks, don't worry about it." Gregory turned around and returned to his previous determination, "This is just an empty frame of the titanium alloy fuselage. The riveting station is empty. There is nothing in the avionics cabin. Not even the basic cables are laid. It is not building an aircraft at all, it is just a model put up to support the scene."
He paused, raised his hand and pointed at the pulsating rail line, with a hint of imperceptible panic in his tone, but still said sternly, "The real F-22 final assembly is to nail the aircraft to a fixed position and not move. The top aviation mechanics in United States circle around the aircraft. Only after one process is accepted can the next one be moved. It takes four months at the fastest for an aircraft to go from skeleton to flyable. This is still the most optimistic situation."
"Look what we have here? Is there a five-coordinate machining center that can mold titanium alloy integral wall panels in one go? Is there a final assembly frame that can guarantee micron-level precision?"
"Relying on this pulsating production line that is only used for mass production of cheap products like the F-35, a few young guys who are not even familiar with the blueprints dare to talk about building the F-22? It is simply a big joke."
In his words, this pulsating line, which represents the most efficient assembly mode of modern Aviation Industry Corporation of China, has become a cheap gadget that cannot be put on the table.
The conversation between Gregory and Hendricks fell into the ears of Li Jianguo next to them.
He didn't answer or explain.
Even if he is not in Chengdu Aircraft Industry Group's factory in China, his years of professional ethics have taught him when to speak and when to remain silent.
He would never explain to this group of foreigners that what they saw was just the tip of the iceberg of the entire production process.
The group of people moved to the avionics test area. Gregory glanced at the unfamiliar equipment with the University of Tokyo logo printed on the test bench. He frowned and asked, "Which company did you use for the avionics solution?"
"University of Tokyo self-developed, civilian specifications." Li Jianguo answered truthfully.
Gregory laughed out loud on the spot, the kind of laugh that comes from hearing the most outrageous jokes after working in aviation all his life.
"Civilian avionics?" He glanced at the test report on the table and threw it back on the table without thinking about it at all. "Civilian chips can't even meet the military-standard anti-interference, earthquake resistance, and overload resistance requirements. High-altitude large overload maneuvers are directly locked."
"The original avionics of the F-22 took us 20 years to develop. If you use civilian products, let alone air combat, you can jam yourself to the point of crash by turning on the radar after taking off."
Li Jianguo opened his mouth, but finally said nothing.
Gregory turned to look at Hendricks, with a very firm tone. "This production line does not have any conditions for resuming F-22 production."
He paused and concluded directly. "Even if they build a factory from scratch, buy equipment, and recruit workers, it won't be possible to put it into production in less than ten years."
"Even if it is finally built, it will only be a pile of scrap metal that cannot fly."
Hendricks nodded and put down the last stroke on the notebook.
The two of them didn't stay any longer, or even waited for Fu Haoran to show up. They turned around and walked out of the workshop, got in the car and left the factory area.
In the car, Gregory took off his glasses and wiped them, the disdain in his tone still lingering. "How to write a report?"
"Just write that the F-22 production line does not have any conditions for resumption of production, all key core equipment is missing, and the avionics solution does not meet military standards at all. It is impossible to achieve stable production within ten years."
Hendricks closed the notebook with a smile that was determined to win, "I will submit it to Congress when I get back. The era of the F-22 is completely over. The future belongs to the F-35."