The person on the other end of the phone was, of course, Worthington II, who had just dropped a bombshell at a press conference. This self-satisfied elite white man still had no idea what a huge mess he'd made, let alone that Xiang Qian had already decided to destroy Worthington Industries.
Worthington II's voice sounded more agitated over the phone. "Mr. Xiang, please understand. What I said to the media came from the heart. I sincerely want to help the Mutants."
"You should remember that we discussed the Mutants before. You know what I really think. Mutants aren't freaks; they're human beings. It's just like they're sick. We've all seen Mutants with mutations. Aside from a very small number of lucky ones, most Mutants have paid an extremely painful price..."
Worthington II rambled on, but Xiang Qian didn't take in a word. What Worthington II was saying wasn't all that different from what Xiang Qian had told Professor X. But often, whether something was right or wrong didn't depend on the words themselves. It depended on who said them.
Xiang Qian could say the same things, even put them more harshly, and Professor X would still have to respond politely. Magneto wouldn't dare act rashly, either.
What was Worthington II, by comparison?
"Mr. Worthington, I'm very disappointed in your performance." Xiang Qian impatiently cut off the other man's long-winded speech. "You still haven't grasped the heart of the matter. You're fixating on trivial details."
"The heart of the matter? What do you mean? I thought..."
Xiang Qian interrupted him again. "Your opinions don't matter at all. What matters is that what you just did will cause Worthington Industries—and, more importantly, your partner, me—enormous losses."
"I don't understand. If this is about marketing the drug, I can assure you I've made thorough arrangements. Worthington Industries has established sales channels and an excellent marketing team. We're negotiating with the federal government..."
Xiang Qian interrupted him for the third time. "Your sales channels and marketing team are irrelevant. Out of a sense of responsibility as your business partner, I'm giving you a friendly warning: Worthington Industries is about to face a devastating catastrophe."
While Worthington II sat in stunned silence, Xiang Qian continued, "In less than ten minutes at that press conference, you managed to anger the most terrifying terrorist on American soil. If I were you, I'd hurry up and buy a massive life insurance policy and property insurance for myself and the company. Maybe then you won't end up picking through garbage in the slums for the rest of your life."
After a brief silence, an unfamiliar voice came through the phone. "We will not tolerate any terrorist activity on American soil, and no terrorist organization can do as it pleases on our land. We have the ability to protect Worthington Industries."
In contrast to Worthington II's anxious, exhausted voice, this newcomer sounded firm and confident.
"Who the hell are you?" Xiang Qian asked irritably, frowning. "Didn't anyone teach you that interrupting people is rude?"
"Lieutenant General Ross, United States Air Force."
"Never heard of you. I generally only speak with your Secretary of Defense." Xiang Qian couldn't be bothered with this self-important American soldier. "Now you can hand the phone back to Mr. Worthington. I didn't realize he'd not only announced his product information without authorization, but had also gotten the U.S. military involved beforehand. I hope he wasn't stupid enough to give you the product's core technology, too."
Lieutenant General Ross wasn't so easily dismissed. He had the usual American soldier's arrogance and an almost recklessly forceful manner. "I've been authorized to handle this matter in its entirety..."
"Beep... Beep... Beep..."
Lieutenant General Ross stared at the phone in his hand, dumbfounded. Xiang Qian had hung up on him.
Seeing that Lieutenant General Ross was about to explode with rage, Worthington II hurriedly snatched the phone back and called Xiang Qian again, only to hear a string of automated messages saying the other party was busy.
Worthington II glanced awkwardly at Lieutenant General Ross. They stared at each other in silence.
Fortunately, the awkward silence didn't last long. One of Lieutenant General Ross's communications specialists hurried over and handed him a device that looked like an old-fashioned telephone.
"General, a high-priority call."
High priority meant the caller had a higher level of authorization. Of course, often it also meant they held a higher rank.
"Who is it?" Lieutenant General Ross asked irritably.
"The Secretary of Defense."
"..."
"Hello, Mr. Secretary." Still seething, Lieutenant General Ross forced himself to answer.
Worthington II couldn't hear what was said on the other end, but he watched in alarm as Lieutenant General Ross's expression changed dramatically in a matter of moments.
"Sir, I thought I'd already received full authorization for this operation."
"Sir, I don't think you understand the value of this incident. This drug is vital to us. Its strategic importance can't be overstated."
"We have to get our hands on it. So what if that Chinese man holds the key technology? We can make him hand it over."
"I know he has connections with a lot of people in Washington. That playboy spends a few hundred million dollars a year and buys them all off, but no one's ever stopped to think about how much he's taken from the United States."
"This is treason. This is a betrayal of America's national interests."
Worthington II watched the astonishing change in Lieutenant General Ross's expression, dumbfounded.
The senior officer, with his old-school cowboy manner, had first gone red in the face. Then his hair stood on end as rage blazed through him. He jumped up and down, bellowing into the phone and venting his fury without restraint.
But before he hung up, Worthington II heard Lieutenant General Ross's final words:
"...Yes, sir..."
The awkward silence descended for a second time. In the tense atmosphere, the sudden ring of Worthington II's phone sounded unusually grating.
"Hello, Mr. Xiang." Worthington II answered.
But Xiang Qian had no intention of speaking with the self-important idiot anymore. "Give the phone to General Ross. You need to understand that you're no longer in charge of this situation."
Worthington II handed the phone to the old cowboy, his expression complicated. As a tycoon who controlled an entire industry, he might have been slow on the uptake, but even he had to understand that things had slipped out of his control—and that, to a large extent, they would inevitably veer away from what he'd originally intended.
"Is that you, General Ross?" Xiang Qian asked with a cold laugh. "I hope you now have a basic understanding of the situation. Are you ready to go to war?"
Lieutenant General Ross had weathered plenty of storms in his time and quickly regained control of his emotions. His tone remained as forceful as ever. "Don't question our professionalism. We're the most powerful military in the world."
"I can't say I agree." Xiang Qian gave a faint, cold smile. On this subject, he took even greater pride than Lieutenant General Ross did—pride passed down through history and his forebears.
"I can't judge your professionalism or combat effectiveness, since I've had very few opportunities to interact with the U.S. military. After all, I've had the good fortune to be born in a country without any American military bases."