You're worried the Church and the Dark Forces will fight, and we won't be able to protect ourselves?

"I don't know!"

"I don't understand this stuff either!"

"The professionals are here. Talk to the professionals!"

The three-party talks began. Shen Le sat calmly in a corner of the negotiating table, facing the young Special Affairs Bureau member from afar. At a glance, he looked like someone who had been pushed to the margins.

Yet he seemed perfectly content with himself. He flipped through a catalog of cultural relics, reading it page by page at leisure. Every so often, he would prick up his ears to listen to the relics experts lecture, diligently taking notes.

With that utterly laid-back attitude, no one would have guessed that he was the one who had initiated these negotiations—or that, in theory, he was the final decision-maker and the one bearing the greatest contractual obligations.

That ridiculous behavior had Father Campbell and Prince Allen burning with anxiety. Several times, they tried to call him aside alone.

Shen Le either ignored them or gave them his standard three-part response:

"I don't know, I don't understand, I don't care—"

Seriously, could you be any more irresponsible?

You handed everything over to the professionals to negotiate. How were we supposed to take advantage of you now?!

Shen Le did not care what they thought. If foreigners got the better deal, didn't that mean they were the ones losing out?

And clearly, none of the professionals present wanted their country to lose out either.

Especially the middle-aged man from the Special Affairs Bureau—the deputy director, or perhaps an official who enjoyed deputy director-level treatment. Duty demanded it, so he unleashed his full firepower:

"Restore one holy artifact, return one first-class cultural relic! Non-negotiable!"

"What? You think one first-class cultural relic isn't worth one holy artifact? Then don't have it restored! As Shen Le said before, compensate us