After Chen Mo finished speaking, the office fell silent for a few seconds.
The red numbers on the screen kept changing, while several reports beside it fluttered gently in the air conditioning. Edgar stood in front of the desk, his posture as straight as ever.
"Because Vought can provide you with more targets, cleaner scenes, and less trouble."
Edgar's tone was steady as he pushed the two files a little farther forward. "Samaritan's Embrace and that island are only the first resources we can deliver. If you're willing, we can turn this into a long-term arrangement."
Chen Mo sat in the CEO's chair, his shoes still propped up on the desk.
He looked at Edgar, nodded, and suddenly laughed.
Edgar continued without pausing. "You won't need to screen targets personally, and you won't need to deal with the media. The company will handle the initial screening, seal off any loose ends afterward, and provide all necessary legal cover."
"Old Ai."
Chen Mo cut him off and slowly lowered his legs from the desk. "Do you think you're pretty irreplaceable in this job?"
Edgar pressed his lips together and looked at him.
"'Irreplaceable' isn't accurate," he said. "More accurately, there's currently no lower-cost alternative."
Chen Mo nodded.
"Got it."
The next second, he rose from the chair so quickly it looked as if the lights had merely flickered.
He kicked Edgar in the side of the knee.
Edgar's body tilted, and he fell heavily onto the carpet. He braced a hand against the corner of the desk to keep himself from collapsing completely. He grunted, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead in an instant, but he neither cried out nor pressed the alarm beneath the desk.
Chen Mo looked down at him, a smile still on his lips.
"See? Didn't our costs just suddenly go up?"
Edgar glanced down at his twisted lower leg. His breathing was a little heavier than before, but his gaze remained calm.
"Pain affects the efficiency of my report," he said. "If you want to continue talking, I suggest you refrain from damaging my vocal cords for now."
Chen Mo was so annoyed he laughed.
"You really aren't afraid to die, are you?"
He crouched down and patted Edgar on the shoulder. "What makes you think a bunch of corporate spiel and two buffet menus are enough to make me let you go?"
Edgar didn't answer immediately.
Holding on to the edge of the desk, he slowly settled into a sitting position against its side, his broken leg lying at an unnatural angle on the carpet. His expensive suit had finally wrinkled, but his expression remained absurdly composed.
"Of course you can kill me."
When he said it, he was neither threatening nor pleading. He was simply stating a corporate fact.
"But Vought won't stop running because one CEO dies. The board will initiate the succession process, legal will freeze all sensitive projects, and security will forward your information to the military and intelligence agencies."
Chen Mo raised an eyebrow.
Edgar continued, "Not to retaliate against you, but because company procedures require it. A CEO executed at close range by an anomalous asset would, under current protocols, be classified as a loss-of-control event of the highest level."
"Sounds like a lot of trouble."
"Yes." Edgar nodded. "A great deal of trouble."
Chen Mo looked at him and suddenly grinned. "Then if I eat them all too, wouldn't that take care of the trouble?"
"You can."
Edgar answered quickly. "But that would turn you from an uncontrollable variable into a disaster requiring a coordinated global response. You can win many times, but each time will expand the battlefield."
At that, the smile on Chen Mo's face faded a little.
This was the most annoying thing about the way the old man talked.
"So you think I don't dare kill you?"
"No."
Edgar looked at him. "I believe you do. And precisely because you do, I have to make the costs of killing me clear."
Chen Mo was silent for two seconds. He put a hand on Edgar's shoulder and spoke quite seriously. "Old Ai, if you were thirty years younger, you'd probably make even Homelander so angry he'd develop breast nodules."
Edgar frowned slightly. He didn't understand what that medical condition had to do with Homelander.
Chen Mo couldn't be bothered to explain. He stood up. "All right, any last words? Hurry up, I'm pressed for time."
Edgar raised a hand and pointed to the right side of the desk.
"There's a third document in the drawer."
Chen Mo followed his gesture.
It was an ordinary drawer, with no combination lock on the outside or any strange metal fittings. At least, as far as Chen Mo could currently sense, there was no bomb, no gun, and no mechanism that could make Homelander burst out of the ceiling.
"A third offer?"
"A third gift."
Edgar corrected him.
Chen Mo couldn't hold back again.
"I sure get a lot of gifts when I visit you, huh?"
As he spoke, he pulled open the drawer.
There were no weapons inside, no control chips, and certainly no super advanced technology.
There was only a thick stack of freshly printed papers, still slightly warm from the printer.
Chen Mo had been fairly casual at first, picking it up with one hand and flipping through a couple of pages.
Then his movements slowed.
The first page listed community reconstruction projects Vought had added in the past forty-eight hours.
The second was a housing repair plan for impoverished neighborhoods.
The third contained budget details for school renovations, medical assistance, living subsidies, and several long-term international projects for people's livelihoods.
The sheer number of zeros after the figures was striking.
"Wait a minute."
Chen Mo flipped farther into the document and suddenly stopped. "Hold on, what the hell is this long-term overseas media space for public-interest coverage?"
Edgar lowered his head slightly, his tone as steady as ever. "We bought special coverage space in several media outlets to push certain parts of East Asia to confront historical issues they have long avoided and distorted."
Chen Mo looked at the full page of photo collections and interview schedules in the document, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"You really know how to pick an angle, don't you?"
"Yes. Based on my observations, I believed you would approve of this kind of expenditure."
Chen Mo was silent for two seconds. He really couldn't say he disapproved of it.
"Uh, yeah, I do approve. No problem with that, old man."
After all, the money had really been spent, the projects had really been put into action, and ordinary people were the ones benefiting. There was nothing to pick at.
"Wait."
He looked up at Edgar. "Is Vought suddenly planning to pivot to charity?"
"Vought has always had a charitable division," Edgar said.
Chen Mo looked at the list in his hands, then at Edgar's broken leg.
"Are you sure that charity division of yours wasn't dedicated to money laundering and staged photo ops before?"
"It was."
Edgar answered naturally. "Now it isn't entirely."
Chen Mo: 6
The old bastard was pretty honest.
He closed the document and stared at Edgar for a few seconds. "So what are you doing this for? Building up good karma for yourself?"
"I don't believe in that sort of thing."
"Then why throw so much money at it?"
"Because you don't want to be made into a disaster," Edgar said. "And Vought can turn your goodwill into something on a large scale."
Chen Mo's fingers paused.
Edgar leaned against the desk, more cold sweat gathering at his temples, but his voice remained unhurried.
"Saving a plane creates a story. The media will consume the story, the public will interpret it, and malice will taint it. But if goodwill is institutionalized, funded, and turned into projects, it becomes more than a single chance event."
Chen Mo looked at him.
"Go on."
"You're unwilling to spread disaster pointlessly, and you're unwilling to harm ordinary people. Since that's the case, we can amplify those qualities on your behalf."
Edgar said, "You hate seeing certain parts of history covered up, so we can buy media space. You want fewer people to die in the slums, so we can build homes and hospitals. You want a little less unnecessary rotten business in this world, and Vought can put it in the budget."
Chen Mo suddenly sighed.
"Old Ai, that's a good reason."
Edgar looked at him without replying.
Chen Mo put the document back on the desk and slowly walked up to him. "But we really don't need you alive for that."
At last, uncontrollable fear appeared on Edgar's face.
Chen Mo's fingers were already pressed against his chest.
Black-and-red blood vessels emerged from his fingertips like tiny roots, silently piercing the suit, skin, and blood vessels beneath.
Edgar's body began to tremble uncontrollably.
"You'll get my memories," he said.
"Mm."
"You'll get my troubles too."
"Not a big problem." Chen Mo grinned. "I've got a good appetite and strong digestion."
The black-and-red blood vessels spread rapidly.
Edgar's fingers clenched, then quickly relaxed. He neither begged nor struggled, merely looking down as the vessels crawled over his cuffs, as if observing a form of biotechnology he had never seen before.
"Very efficient," he said.
"Thank you."
Chen Mo paused, then added, "I was complimenting myself."
Edgar nodded gently.
"I know."
The next second, Blacklight flesh completely enveloped him.
The devouring didn't last long.
A few seconds later, the flesh on the carpet slowly withdrew, and Edgar's body had vanished. In its place was a new Edgar, who slowly grew, rose, and stood beside the desk.
The same suit.
The same face.
The same calm eyes.
Only the leg that had just been broken by the kick was standing straight and whole again.
Chen Mo closed his eyes briefly.
A flood of memories poured into his mind.
The board, military channels, secret projects, public relations contingency plans, overseas accounts, Homelander's psychological profile, and a mass of densely packed ownership structures.
The sheer volume of information was like someone stuffing an entire floor of archives into his head.
Chen Mo opened his eyes, his expression a little strange.
"You people really know how to waste time in meetings."
The new Edgar straightened his cuffs, looked at him, and nodded slightly.
The gesture was almost indistinguishable from the original Edgar's.
Chen Mo stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly found it a little amusing. "From now on, you'll keep being Vought's CEO. Hold meetings when you need to, allocate funds when you need to. Samaritan's Embrace, Carnival Island, and these charity projects-don't stop a single one."
Edgar nodded humbly.
"Yes, main body."
Chen Mo reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "Be a good black man and keep doing good deeds."
Edgar placed a hand over his chest and bowed. "I shall carry out your will."