Earth's events flashed onto Xue'er's office screen, a dedicated feed for handling terrestrial affairs. "That silly Feitian, showing off again," she muttered, smirking, then summoned Along and other first-batch Chinese officers.
"Wow, brother's so cool! That pose—total badass," Mimi said, sporting sunglasses, glued to the screen. Dizzy. Too much Spice Girls? Glancing at Xiao Lan and Xiao E beside her—same vibe. They'd been corrupted. Then I spotted Xiao Lan's younger sister, decked in sunglasses, thick lipstick, and a low-cut top, her budding chest poking through. If Feitian saw this, he'd jump off a cliff—though dying's tough for him now.
"Ugh, boss is so unfair, hogging the spotlight. Poor me, dashing and charming," A-Lang whined, envious. "Next time, let's tag along. Talk to boss, yeah?"
"Nah, I'd just embarrass myself. I know my limits. Your transformation's puny compared to boss's—you're a worm next to him. Even a worm's fine, but how long can you hold it? Imagine Yanhuang descendants watching a dragon shrink mid-air into a horned freak. Cringe," A-Bao, A-Lang's rival, mocked.
"When can we do that? So jealous!" The room erupted in laughter.
"Hit Tier 5 lower, and you can sustain dragon form two," Xue'er explained, smiling.
"Sister-in-law, how do you know so much?" Along asked.
"Well, I can do it—I'm Tier 5 mid now," Xue'er said, grinning.
"Wow, sister-in-law, you're amazing! How'd you train?" A-Lang, ever nosy, pressed. Xue'er froze. She couldn't admit it was dual cultivation with Feitian, but saying "normal training" wouldn't fly—they trained harder than her. Blushing, she stammered.
Seeing her discomfort, Along smacked A-Lang, shifting gears. "So, sister-in-law, boss's form is huge—twice ours. What tier's he at?"
Calming down, Xue'er said, "Feitian's around Tier 12, I think."
Pfft! Tea sprayed everywhere, except from my wives. A-Lang hosed Along's face, who'd asked the dumb question.
"No way! How'd boss train? That's inhumane. I'm never reaching that," A-Lang quipped, dodging a beating. Along, glaring, held back in Xue'er's presence. A-Lang sighed in relief.
Sharp as ice, Xue'er caught their antics. "I don't know details, but he went to Earth to find herbs to boost us. Speaking of, any luck on the thousand-year ginseng and He Shou Wu I asked you to search for on your garrison planets?"
"Mine's a man-made planet—no plants," A-Hu said. Along and others reported nothing. "Our Red Dragon Legion found tons of ginseng and He Shou Wu in the divine realm's deep mountains. Not sure if they're thousand- or ten-thousand-year-old—I marked them without touching," Meng Jiang said, thrilling Xue'er.
"Good call. They're likely ancient. The divine realm never used herbs, treating ailments with magic, so they're just plants there. When Feitian's back, we'll tell him," Xue'er planned.
Back at the group, I ran into the dean disembarking with a 16- or 17-year-old girl and a bookish guy—probably her son. "Dean, you're here! Come in." I handed their luggage to a staffer, guiding the dean inside. "Feitian, this is my daughter Wen Li, and my son Wen Ke." I nearly chuckled at his son's name.
He caught my vibe, laughing. "Go ahead and laugh—I won't mind. I protested to my mom, but no dice."
"Heh, it's memorable and fun—great name. I'm Makino Feitian, group president. Let's head in."
"You're the big boss? Mom told me about you—so impressive!" Wen Li's innocence shone. At her age, I was already "deflowered" by force, clueless. Thinking back, I regret not being savvier.
"I won't lie—I'm pretty awesome. Will someone outdo me? Dunno. But I'm tougher than anyone I know," I said earnestly. Wen Li blinked—first time she'd seen such natural bragging.
"Shameless, but I like your style," she said, bold and likable. People prefer straight talk; veiled words are exhausting.
"Like me? Can't—too many admirers, and wives aplenty," I sighed. "Too handsome, can't even tone it down." Her eyes sparkled, a rival's thrill. "I get it—I'm too pretty, no girl friends."
Taking a closer look, she was stunning. I'm numb to beauty, but she shone. "Not bad, very pretty," I said honestly—you don't call a girl plain to her face, especially a beauty. As she beamed, I added, "Still a tad below me. Among girls, you're unmatched." Her eyes bulged, and she pinched my arm hard.
"Wen Li, behave," the dean scolded. She let go, not without another twist. "Heh, little sis got owned," Wen Ke teased. "Feitian, we're close in age—mind if I call you brother?"
"Not at all." I'm easygoing—happiness is key.
"What do you think of my sister? Marry her," Wen Ke said, deadpan. This Tsinghua scholar's honest face hid a player's game—I bet he'd tricked plenty of girls.
"What? She's decent, but her chest's small, butt's flat," he continued. "Brother!" Wen Li snapped, mortified. If he kept going, she'd have nothing left to brag about. "I'm still growing!"
Everyone laughed. "Shameless girl," the dean said fondly, patting her head. Wen Li buried her red face in her mom's arms.
"Wen, got a girlfriend at school?" I probed.
"Yup," he admitted, caught off-guard, then smiled wryly. "You're sneaky."
"You two good?" "Solid. Her family's rural, just her and her mom. I agreed to come here for the high pay and benefits to support them. Hope you don't mind my bluntness."
"Not at all. We can help them too, especially since you're with us. No tasks yet—you're here to study. If she's willing, I'll send for her and her mom. Sound good?" Why not play matchmaker?
"Really?" Wen Ke lit up. Joining Yellow Dragon Group was no small feat—entry-level salaries started at $200,000 USD, and global elites vied for spots. Hiring was strict, valuing skills over degrees, with fierce competition and frequent layoffs.
The group hired and fired often, but laid-off staff reapplied, shunning higher offers elsewhere. A quirky trend emerged: the group's hiring café brimmed with elite talent. Layoffs showed gaps; rehiring was lax to spur competition—a healthy cycle.
"Really, but she'd study too, working only after graduation. All expenses covered—education's free in our empire," I said, fibbing slightly for secrecy.
"Bro, you're set!" Wen Li seized her comeback. Wen Ke, giddy, didn't care. "Gotta call her—share the news." He dialed her dorm.
"Tell her if she's there, a car's waiting at the gate. Bring her mom," I said. "She's there—done," he replied. Love's power, huh?
The elevator stopped at floor 127 of Yellow Dragon Group's 128-story tower. The top two floors were my and Xue'er's office-entertainment haven, with bedrooms, a lavish hall, and a huge bath. "Wow, gorgeous!" Wen Li squealed, darting off. On clear days, you could see far; on cloudy ones, just mist. Perfect for undisturbed cultivation.
"Dean, stay here tonight. Dinner's delivered. Eat anything. Wen Li, sing if you want—it's soundproof, no one's coming up," I said.
"Even if you said no, I'd use it," Wen Li teased, unbothered by my "girl" nickname, fiddling with instruments. I powered them on. "Dean, rest in any room. I'm stepping out." "Go on, we'll manage," she said, motherly.
I wished my own mom could be revived, but that was a dream. Leaving, I hit the top floor—an entire office level with plane views. Yellow Dragon Group's tower was Asia's tallest.
"President, government folks are here to talk," my secretary's voice buzzed through the intercom. Not begging for gear again, are they? China's safe now, and I've hidden my tech. Better meet them. "Bring them to my office."
Soon, she returned. "They're outside." "Show them in," I said, patting her curvy hip. She shot me a coy glare, blushing as she left. Oops, thought I was in the palace. On Flying Dragon Star, my palace staff—cooks, secretaries—are my wives. My "lecherous president" rep's sealed.
"President Feitian, first face-to-face, huh?" It was that sly minister from last time, who fleeced me using my patriotism.
"Not here to extort me again, are you? That's borderline corruption. Even my vast empire can't take it," I jabbed. Revenge time.
"Old friends like us? That hurts," he deflected smoothly. Old friends after two meetings? Respect—he's a master, decades of cunning. Gotta learn.
"How'd you know I was here? Not many do," I tossed out, catching him off-guard. He couldn't admit to 24/7 surveillance. "National secret," he said, scratching his head.
Enough games. "With tensions high, you wouldn't visit unless it's big. Spill."
My secretary brought Da Hong Pao tea, shooting me a shy glance as she handed mine, then left. The minister, silent, eyed her exit, then me, smirking knowingly. "Not what you think," I said. Explaining makes it worse. "We're men, I get it," he chuckled.
"I'm here to ask your group to fix our engine issues," he said casually, seizing my distraction. Sly fox, exploiting every opening. Engines? No small matter—good ones reach space. I countered his tactic: "Impressive, truly impressive."
He paused, then grinned, catching my drift. "Not bad, kid—promising." His smile rivaled our fox clan elders.
"We're not an engine research firm. The Chinese Academy of Sciences has projects for that. Why me? Barking up the wrong tree?" His smug look screamed they'd found leverage.
"No choice. Your car engines are years ahead of ours," he said. Damn, they noticed. I'd focused on profits, not details. Our engines rewrote design norms—experts, let alone academy geeks, could tell. Lucky I didn't use warship drives, or we'd be exposed.
"Price?" I asked, prioritizing terms. "Joint factory, $10 billion, state-funded, you provide tech, state takes 51%." No way. That'd trap us—they'd slash prices, kill profits, and demand bigger engines later. Control's mine, or it's a mess.
The room fell silent. The minister sipped tea, mind racing: This kid's tough—unswayed by profit, sharp on key points. He'd save the state billions in my role.
"You state requirements; we'll design, theorize, and verify, negotiating key points. No joint factory—our group's strength is unmatched globally. Saves funds, speeds production," I countered. He'd struggle to argue.
He mulled it over. My plan beat his, with no real loss. Only downside: no state control. If we sold to others, their effort's wasted. "I'll agree, with conditions."
"Name them. If fair, we're in." Control's ours—makes things smoother. I prefer free, equal partnerships; shackled deals aren't worth it.
"Products can't exceed current market prices by 5%, sold to us at factory minimum. Co-developed products can't go to third parties. Future advanced products prioritize us, only selling to others with state approval, and must be less advanced than ours," he said, eyeing me. That second clause could choke a company.
"Bit harsh, no? The state can't buy our full output," I said. For us, profit's king. Selling lower-tech to others? Fine—nations prioritize their best, exporting scraps. Our worst tech would still dominate Earth. The catch: tech level control. If they demand too low, we're broke; if we go too advanced, it's trouble.
"I know it's tough, but think of the nation's strength. It's necessary," he said sincerely. "The state won't short you—expect favorable policies."
"No need. Send your specs," I said, surprising him. He knew only patriotism made me agree—nobody else would. "Thank you, on behalf of the nation and people. The Party won't forget your group's sacrifice," he said, gripping my hand.
"No thanks needed. We're dragon descendants. Some say one Chinese is a dragon, two a worm. I'm proving them wrong. Our partnership will show one Chinese is a dragon, two a giant dragon, and millions together are the dragon of dragons."
"Here's foreign engine data—spotty. This is our best engine's specs, and these are our target parameters—where we need help," he said, handing over files. Efficient bunch.
I skimmed them—nothing shocking. Their design borrowed our car engine theories but was crude. With empire tech, it's a breeze. "No issue. Pick up the goods later," I said, passing the files to my secretary.
"How long?" he asked. "We need these engines fast."
"No problem—one month," I said. Empire's 1,000+ factories could churn them out in a day with blueprints, but war prep slowed us. Still, one month stunned them.
"I trust you." I saw them out. Turning, I caught my secretary's resentful stare. Trouble. Time to bolt. "Give these to design, keep them secret," I said, fleeing downstairs.
She watched me scamper, smiling, wiping tears. You've got weaknesses. I'll win you.
Reader's Corner: Yo, readers, Feitian's juggling empire and Earth like a boss! Will Wen Li spark chaos among his wives? Can his engine deal fuel China's cosmic rise? Drop your wild guesses in the comments—let's fire up this dragon saga!