"Mr. Donald, your new product looks impressive, but I have a question." A big boss in a turban asked, "Why don't you seek cooperation with the government? As far as I know, the Zade Family is well established in the US. Why pass up the big sucker at the Pentagon and take the risk of working with us? Frankly, if this deal gets exposed, it might damage the Zade Family's reputation."
All these underground bosses are on Interpol’s most-wanted list—some are even core members of notorious terrorist organizations. If this gets out, even the Zade Family can’t just shrug it off.
Another big boss with a bushy beard chimed in, "I bet it’s because there’s some flaw in this 'Super Soldier'—and that flaw would get hammered by all those self-righteous watchdogs."
These bosses are sharp—they can spot a problem in a heartbeat.
Donald Zade shrugged. "As you said, there is indeed a trait that’s not easy for the public to accept. But if you ask me, it’s not a flaw—it’s an advantage."
Donald Zade pointed at the screen, which showed a cross-section of a human brain. "Gentlemen, after using the Super Soldier Evolution Agent, this part of the human brain’s function gets suppressed—or even partially destroyed."
"So basically," an old man from the East said with a hint of sarcasm, "your super soldiers are just brainless losers?"
Donald Zade nodded without shame. "They really don’t have brains." Then he grinned wickedly and shook his head. "But they’re definitely not losers." He made a finger-gun gesture at the old man. "A gun doesn’t have a brain either, but it’s not useless—because it doesn’t need a brain at all."
The bosses caught on. "So, you mean these super soldiers are just tools?" The guy in the turban pressed on, "So where’s the trigger on this gun?"
"The trigger’s in their heads." Donald Zade waved his hand and the screen changed. "We developed a control center—a bionic chip that plugs right into their brains. You’ve all seen The Matrix, right? Just like the thing in the back of the hackers’ heads—very similar. With this, the super soldiers are the best tools you could ask for."
"Picture this: with power that defies common sense, they’re a razor-sharp blade against enemies, and a solid shield for protection. Whether it’s assassination, sabotage, or even terrorist attacks, these Super Soldiers are fearless, absolutely loyal, and insanely efficient." Donald Zade’s eyes were practically glowing. "Throughout history, those in power have always loved training death squads. Today, the ultimate death squad has arrived—Super Soldiers will change the future of warfare!"
Inside the fighters’ hall, the crowd was getting restless. They felt like disaster was looming, watching those mercenaries get slaughtered—like they were seeing their own future. Some tried every way to contact the outside world, but nothing worked. It was like the whole island was wrapped in a powerful electronic blackout, cut off from the rest of the world.
Jack Young and Jonathan Black exchanged a look, both with deep meaning in their eyes. Jack knew Donald Zade was right. These so-called Super Soldiers might still be within human limits, but if they surpass the Titan Spirit Method: Second Stage, they’d go beyond what humans can do. People with that kind of power could make guns basically useless. If there were enough of them, the whole world would change.
The only question was, how far could Donald Zade’s Super Soldiers really go?
"Mr. Donald, as far as I know, research on superhumans made huge progress more than twenty years ago." One of the bosses suddenly spoke up. "A researcher named Sophia developed a perfected superhuman agent to save her own son." This usually silent boss suddenly dropped a bombshell: "That agent doesn’t make people stupid—and has no side effects. Compared to that, I don’t see any advantage in your so-called Super Soldiers."
That meant nothing to the nervous fighters, but Jonathan Black suddenly gripped his armrest and clenched his teeth. Donald Zade also looked up sharply, staring coldly at the boss for a long moment before snorting, "You sure have good intel—even digging into the Zade Family’s secrets."
"That’s how the world works—you spy on me, I spy on you. The Zade Family isn’t some untouchable Olympus." The boss grinned and puffed on his cigar. "So, tell us—what’s so special about your Super Soldiers?"
Donald Zade took a breath and put his smile back on. "I’ll admit, Sophia’s agent has no obvious side effects. But it has one huge downside: the price! A single dose costs a billion dollars. Mine? Just one million."
One million dollars isn’t cheap, but it’s not impossible. For these bosses, spending a million for an absolutely loyal Super Soldier might actually be a good deal.
Jack Young glanced at the agitated Jonathan Black and whispered, "Sophia—is that your mother?" When he first met Jonathan, Jack thought all that strength came from training. But now, it was clearly something else.
Jonathan Black nodded, then shook his head. "That’s just my mother’s codename. What I want to know is, what really happened back then? Why did she die?" Jonathan had a strong feeling that his mother’s death was absolutely tied to the Zade Family.
Meanwhile, in the other hall, the bosses weren’t buying what Donald Zade was selling. Many spoke up: "I’m more interested in that billion-dollar agent." "We don’t lack cannon fodder—we need strong bodies."
"Donald," the well-connected boss pointed his cigar at the young man in white, "I know all about the Zade Family tradition. Every heir has to manage their own turf, and whoever does best gets recognized. So this so-called product launch isn’t a family thing—it’s your personal bid for attention. That’s fine, we don’t care. But if you don’t show us something real, we won’t hesitate to go talk to other Zade Family members instead."
The bosses were clearly interested, but in negotiations, you always steer things to your own advantage. That boss didn’t mind showing off his intel skills because it helped his cause. Even regular folks know trash-talking the goods helps drive the price down—and none of these bosses are fools. They caught on instantly, all bashing Donald Zade’s Super Soldiers to get more out of the deal.
On stage, Donald Zade was starting to crack. He’d always lived a pampered life—who’d have thought he’d get grilled like this? But he knew he absolutely couldn’t lose his temper with these bosses—he didn’t have the right. His face twitched, and he forced a laugh: "Gentlemen, Sophia is actually one of my lab’s researchers. The agent she developed is part of my resources. If you’re interested, we can talk."
Jack Young and Jonathan Black exchanged a look—called it! Donald Zade definitely knows something about Sophia!
"But you can’t deny that the overwhelming power of the Super Soldiers still has huge value…" Donald Zade kept trying to hype his main product—he clearly didn’t want to talk about Sophia’s agent.
But before he could finish, a boss interrupted: "Really? I don’t think your so-called Super Soldiers are all that ‘overwhelming.’" He pointed at the screen. "See, a puppet is still a puppet—they’re already taking damage."
On the big screen, the dots representing Super Soldiers were dropping one by one. Those mercenaries were top-tier—they were caught off guard at first by the Super Soldiers’ insane power, but quickly found a way to fight back. As soon as they counterattacked, all the flaws of the Super Soldiers were exposed: overconfidence, lack of experience, rigid behavior, poor adaptability. Those weaknesses led to massive casualties in the Super Soldier ranks.
After losing more than half their numbers, the mercenaries finally got their rhythm back—and the tide started to turn.
"Kid," the bosses had dropped all formalities, waving dismissively at Donald Zade, "Everyone here’s a war expert. We all know that if you don’t have anything else to offer, you’re done. Prove it—show us what your product can really do. If you can’t, then your so-called Super Soldiers are just a pile of crap."
Donald Zade’s breathing grew rapid, his face turning ugly. He glared fiercely at the bosses, then the proud young man gritted his teeth and spat, "Fine, since you want a show, get ready to have your minds blown!" He grabbed his cane and, for the first time, gave a verbal order: "Release—the Old Veterans!"
(Our first group is up! It’s called Jack Young’s Apartment, number 2647-03699. For verification, just write the name of your favorite character from this book! Everyone’s welcome to join! Also, since I barely ever log into QQ, I’m hiring admins—the salary is a boxed lunch...)