At the hospital entrance, the driver went to fetch the car from the parking lot while Patrick and Siegel stood waiting together.
Moments later, a black sedan pulled up before them.
Siegel smiled warmly and said, "You go ahead. I'll stay here with Ogsha and Lacus and won't be returning."
Patrick glanced at him, pursed his lips in disdain, then opened the rear door and climbed in.
"Drive."
As the engine roared to life, Siegel took two steps back and waved farewell.
The black sedan moved steadily toward the Spaceport. Through the rearview mirror, the driver observed Patrick's cheerful expression and asked, "You seem in high spirits, Lord Patrick. Did the person you sought agree to join us?"
Patrick's face immediately darkened. "No, he refused."
But then the corners of his mouth lifted in an appreciative smile. "Still, it's impressive for someone so young to have such strong convictions."
"You think highly of that boy, Lord Patrick."
"Those with ability naturally have the right to be willful. It's just a shame he's too young to see reality clearly. Once those arrogant Naturals hurt him, he'll understand the world isn't so kind."
"Indeed. Those despicable Naturals. All we want is to live peacefully."
Patrick snorted coldly. "To them, we're nothing but manufactured tools. I'd love to see the looks on their faces when they're defeated."
Changing the subject, he asked, "Has the Development Bureau submitted any proposals yet?"
With one hand on the wheel, the driver tapped the touchscreen beside him. "The proposals are ready."
A display on the back of the front seat lit up, revealing a document listing over a dozen plans.
Patrick studied them carefully as the car filled only with the soft sounds of their breathing and the hum of the engine.
After a while, Patrick selected two from the list. With a light tap, the plans were swiftly sent out.
A pleasant ringtone sounded from Patrick's pocket. He answered the call.
A middle-aged man's voice came through. "Lord Patrick, only two? Isn't that too few?"
"It's enough. Quality over quantity. What you really want to ask is why I chose the second one, isn't it?"
"Yes, my lord. The first plan to enhance the Mistral is straightforward, with sufficient technical reserves to quickly bolster our combat strength. But the second plan to develop humanoid weapons... isn't that leap too great? Besides, humanoid weapons aren't particularly effective on the battlefield—"
"Listen to me," Patrick interrupted the other person. "The first option is chosen to ensure immediate combat readiness. We must have weapons and equipment ready for use to counter potential risks."
"And the second option is bait."
"Bait?"
"Although we are smarter than Naturals, we must never overlook the fact that those barbarians have a war history spanning thousands of years. They are the true experts in crafting weapons of death."
"If we simply select and develop existing weapons, they will quickly replicate and optimize them based on their prior knowledge."
"To compensate for this disadvantage, we need a new path."
Silence fell on the other end of the line before a voice finally responded, "So, Lord Patrick chose Humanoid Weapons?"
"Exactly," Patrick nodded. "You've seen Mistral's combat data, haven't you? That child's fighting style is completely different from others, utilizing Mistral's mechanical arms to achieve astonishing results."
"Humanoid Weapons do have significant flaws, but once we overcome them, they will undergo a remarkable qualitative transformation. Moreover, unlike traditional weapons, Naturals will have no choice but to follow our lead if they wish to study them."
The man on the phone sounded pleasantly surprised. "I see. By creating an outstanding product, we lure the Naturals into the path we've pioneered, allowing us to gain an advantage in weaponry."
"Furthermore, there are too few Coordinators. Traditional combat methods don't suit us. Our armaments must be precise and unconventional, capable of suppressing the Naturals immediately once war breaks out."
"I understand. After completing Mistral's enhancements, we will immediately begin developing Humanoid Weapons, though it will take considerable time."
"That's fine. Although I disapprove of Siegel's methods, his presence ensures there won't be a full-scale war anytime soon."
"Understood. If we could involve the pilot of that Mistral, progress would likely accelerate significantly."
Patrick thought for a moment. "I promised that child he could choose his own path. Let's not disturb him."
"Yes."
For some time afterward, Patrick and the development team discussed weaponry extensively, only stopping when they arrived at the Spaceport.
After boarding a dedicated small shuttle, Patrick leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes to rest.
Meanwhile, his driver, who had been following him, slipped into the restroom to make a secret call.
A hoarse, aged voice came through the phone. "How did it go?"
"He refused."
The driver then relayed Patrick's discussion with the development team about Humanoid Weapons to the other party.
"I'll speak with him again. As a Coordinator, he should have the resolve to contribute his strength."
"Lord Siegel is currently present. Wait a while before approaching him."
"Understood. For the glory of Coordinators!"
"For the glory of Coordinators!"
...
Elsewhere, in a hospital room, Zhou Tianming studied his phone and made some adjustments before transferring 10 million to Weber.
Weber had helped him without asking for anything in return, but Zhou Tianming felt he should show his gratitude. Good deeds deserve good rewards—if fate wouldn't repay them, he would do it himself.
The moment the money was sent, Weber called.
A faint smile curled Zhou Tianming's lips as he answered in a low voice, "You got the money, right?"
"You... I don't need it. I didn't help you for this."
"I know, but even heroes need to eat. Besides, it's not just for you—your cousin gets a share too. You two can split it. And thank her for me while you're at it."
"But this is way too much. I've never seen this much money in my life. Where did you get it?"
The corners of his mouth twitched upward uncontrollably. "For me, it's a matter of minutes."
"...Alright, if you say so, I won't hold back. Ten million dollars! I need to think about how to spend it. I'm going to find my cousin. She might not need the money, but she'll definitely be happy to see this much."
With that, Weber hung up, leaving Zhou Tianming rooted to the spot.
Ten million... what?
Not RMB?
Hands trembling, he opened his e-payment account and glanced at the currency symbol—$.
He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and clutched his chest tightly.
Peeking cautiously, he closed the account and checked the exchange rate between RMB and USD in this world—1:7.
"Ahhhhh!!!!"
A cry of anguish escaped his lips as Zhou Tianming collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow.
"My money, ahhhhh!!!!"
Hearing the commotion, Zhou Hanxiang hurried in from outside the door, only to find Zhou Tianming with his head buried in the pillow, his butt sticking up as he wriggled around.
She strode over and smacked him. "Stop yelling. There are other patients nearby."
The cries stopped abruptly, but Zhou Tianming remained face-down.
A few minutes later, after learning what had happened, Zhou Hanxiang covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter.
"Should I help you get some of it back?"
Zhou Tianming hastily protested, "No! I have my pride. How can I take back what I've already given away?"
Shaking her head with a smile, Zhou Hanxiang sat on the edge of the bed, leaned forward, and pulled Zhou Tianming into her arms. "There, there, don't be upset. You still have plenty left, big shot."
Buried in Zhou Hanxiang's embrace, Zhou Tianming muttered, "I just wanted to give a little..."
He raised his right hand, pinching his thumb and forefinger together, leaving only the tiniest gap. "Just this much."
Zhou Hanxiang laughed.