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Page 70
His business partner, the bald Obadiah Stanislav, with a standard businessman's smile on his face, went over to try and salvage the situation.
“Tony, everyone is waiting for you.” He bent down, his voice very gentle, as if he were coaxing a disobedient but priceless child.
"I just want a hamburger," Tony mumbled, his mouth full.
Pepper Potts stood a short distance away, her eyes filled with undisguised worry. She knew better than anyone that Tony had changed. That arrogant, perpetually radiant playboy now had something in his eyes that she couldn't decipher. Like a pile of ashes burned in a fire, cold on the surface, yet burning embers still burning beneath.
After a full ten minutes of fussing, Tony finally finished eating. He casually wiped his mouth and, with Obadiah half-supporting him, slowly walked up to the podium.
He did not look at any prepared speech notes.
He merely glanced at the excited, greedy, and curious faces below the stage, and the expressions on those faces filled him with a strange sense of annoyance.
“I’ve been through some things,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “I’ve seen with my own eyes the weapons I made being used in the wrong places, against the wrong people.”
A commotion erupted in the audience. Obadiah's smile froze.
“I’ve thought a lot since I got back.” Tony ignored everyone’s reactions and continued, “I don’t want to leave behind only a bunch of killing weapons after I die. So…”
He took a deep breath, his eyes becoming like a piece of steel just taken out of the furnace.
"I have decided that Stark Industries will permanently close its weapons manufacturing division."
The entire venue erupted in chaos.
Reporters pushed forward like madmen, bombarding Tony with a barrage of questions.
"Mr. Stark! Does this mean Stark Industries will abandon its multi-billion dollar annual military contracts?"
"Is this your personal decision, or a board resolution?"
"Mr. Stanislav, what's your opinion on this?"
Obadiah's face had turned ashen. He snatched the microphone, trying to salvage the situation: "Tony just came back from a terrible place, he's a bit... We'll have an internal discussion about this..."
Tony shoved him away roughly and without any attempt to hide it.
"I'm done."
He uttered this earth-shattering statement and, escorted by Pepper and Happy, struggled to squeeze through the crowd that was on the verge of rioting.
A private island in the South Pacific.
Chu Hang lay leisurely on a beach chair, the holographic screen in front of him clearly broadcasting the press conference.
When Tony said those words, he whistled loudly and took a big gulp of the chilled juice next to him.
"The show is about to begin."
Beside him, a dozen top-of-the-line computers lit up simultaneously. On the screens, Stark Industries' stock chart resembled a kite with its string cut, plummeting downwards at a terrifying angle.
The overwhelming green was so glaring it made me uneasy.
Meanwhile, on Wall Street, in the trading floor.
"He's gone mad! Tony Stark has completely gone mad!"
"Sell! Sell now! Sell at any cost!"
"It's over! My pension! It's all gone!"
Countless traders screamed at the top of their lungs, their faces etched with despair and panic. The ringing of telephones and the clatter of keyboards mingled together, like an apocalyptic symphony. In just a few minutes, Stark Industries' stock price plummeted by more than 40%. Panic spread like wildfire; everyone wanted to dump all their shares before it became worthless.
Amidst this cacophony of wailing and howling, a mysterious force of funds, like a giant whale lurking in the deep sea, silently opened its enormous mouth.
Chu Hang's fingers flew across the keyboard so fast they almost left afterimages.
He simultaneously controls hundreds of ghost accounts scattered across the globe. These accounts were registered under different identities in various parts of the world using his ability to "morphologically mimic," each one unremarkable and impossible to trace. But when they come together, they create a massive wave capable of shaking the market.
"Eat it. Eat as much as there is."
His voice was flat and even, without any emotion, as if he were talking about today's weather.
On the screen, countless sell orders representing panic had just been posted when, in less than 0.01 seconds, they were instantly swallowed up by a massive force.
The stocks that were being frantically dumped by investors like garbage were flowing steadily into Chu Hang's pockets. He was like a silent cleaner, calmly and greedily absorbing everything in the market.
The closing bell finally rang.
Wall Street was in chaos, a scene of utter devastation. Stark Industries' stock price ultimately settled at a dismal number. Countless people lost everything that day. Obadiah smashed everything in his office, his roars echoing down the hallway.
Unbeknownst to anyone, within just one day, more than 15 percent of Stark Industries' outstanding shares had quietly changed hands.
On this day, a mysterious Easterner named "Anthony Chen" and his "Beacon Capital," a company no one had ever heard of, became Stark Industries' largest single shareholder besides Tony himself.
One week later. Stark Industries headquarters, top-floor studio.
Tony Stark paced back and forth in his private studio, looking somewhat agitated. The arc reactor on his chest emitted a ghostly blue light, making his face appear even paler. The symptoms of palladium poisoning were beginning to appear. He took off his shirt, looking at the black lines spreading like venomous snakes beneath his skin in the mirror, his mood worsening.
Pepper Potts walked in carrying a document, her expression more serious than ever before.
"Tony, we're in trouble."
"What could be more troublesome than being poisoned to death by the very thing I invented?" Tony retorted irritably, as he tried to burn off the patterns with a laser, but to no avail.
“Yes.” Pepper slammed the document down on the table. “The company has a new major shareholder. He holds 15.3 percent of the shares. He just sent a lawyer’s letter requesting an emergency board meeting and a private meeting with you.”
"Who?" Tony frowned and stopped his futile attempts.
“Anthony Chen. A mysterious man whose background cannot be verified.” Pepper’s tone was grave. “The legal department has investigated, and all his acquisitions are completely legal. There’s nothing we can do about him.”
"Let him come." Tony snorted and put his clothes back on. "I'd like to see with my own eyes which blind fool dares to steal my peaches at this time."
3 PM, top-floor reception room.
When Chu Hang walked in calmly, dressed in a well-tailored suit and wearing a warm smile, Tony's pupils suddenly contracted.
"Hello, Mr. Shit-da-ke." Chu Hang greeted him familiarly, as if the two were old friends who hadn't seen each other for many years. "We meet again."
“Anthony Chen…the food delivery guy…” Tony’s mind raced, instantly connecting the mysterious man from Afghanistan with the newly minted major shareholder before him. “Did you buy the stock?”
"To be precise, I found it." Chu Hang poured himself a glass of water without any hesitation and sat down on the sofa opposite Tony. "Those smart people on Wall Street didn't want it, and I think it's a pity to throw it on the ground."
"Who are you? What is your purpose?" Tony's eyes sharpened, like a lion whose territory had been invaded by a strange creature.
“My name is Anthony Chen, and as you can see, I’m your new partner.” Chu Hang swirled the water in his glass and said slowly, “As for the purpose… it’s simple. I’m quite interested in this little glowing thing on your chest.”
He stretched out his finger and pointed to the Arc Reactor on Tony's chest.
“In Afghanistan, I was just a mercenary who got paid to do things. A very wealthy client who didn’t want you to die there, that’s all,” Chu Hang explained, half-jokingly. “As for my little tricks, you can think of them as… a kind of cutting-edge technology that hasn’t been made public yet.”
This explanation is utter nonsense to ordinary people. But for a tech fanatic like Tony Stark, it holds a fatal attraction. He's more curious about what kind of technology could possibly cut through space out of thin air.
"Now, let's get down to business." Chu Hang steered the conversation back on track. "You shut down the weapons department with great fanfare, and the company needs a new growth engine, otherwise those old guys on the board will tear you apart. And this thing on your chest is the future."
He looked directly into Tony's eyes: "You're using a clean energy source that can power an entire building for decades as just a high-end pacemaker? Don't you think that's a huge waste? Mr. Shit, you should have a bigger vision."
These words struck Tony's heart like a heavy hammer.
He subconsciously looked down at the blue light on his chest, his eyes flickering uncertainly. He was well aware of the immense potential of the Arc Reactor, but he had been stubbornly stuck with the problem of palladium poisoning, unable to break through it.
“Palladium is toxic, and its reserves on Earth are extremely scarce. There’s no way to mass-produce it,” Tony said in a deep voice. This was a dead end he couldn’t solve at the moment.
"Then find a new element to replace it," Chu Hang said casually, as if it were something as simple as eating and drinking. "Your father, Howard Stark, was so smart, hailed as a leader of an era. Didn't he leave you any clues?"
One sentence, like a bolt of lightning, cleaved through the fog in Tony's mind.
He suddenly raised his head and stared intently at Chu Hang. He had always kept the relics left by his father as souvenirs, never studying them carefully.
"Looks like we've got something to talk about." Tony's eyes shone with that burning brilliance that belonged to a genius once more.
“Of course.” Chu Hang stood up, smiled, and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Tony.”
Tony looked at the outstretched hand, hesitated for a moment, and finally shook it. Although this man was mysterious, every word he spoke resonated deeply with him.
"Pleasant to work with."
Hold the two hands together.
Chu Hang's heart stirred slightly.
A cold, massive, yet incredibly sophisticated stream of data instantly flooded into his brain through the contact point. It wasn't a simple indoctrination of knowledge, but a complete reconstruction of the underlying logic.
In an instant, when he looked at the Arc Reactor on Tony's chest again, the world in his eyes had completely changed. It was no longer a glowing lump of iron. He could clearly "see" the flow trajectory of every beam of energy inside it, the intricate structure of every tiny component, and... its fatal flaws, along with countless possible solutions for improvement that simultaneously flooded his mind.
His brain seemed to have been forcibly installed with a completely new operating system from a higher dimension.
[Conceptual thinking and engineering proficiency].
This is the essence of what makes Tony Stark who he is. It's not how much knowledge he has memorized, but his ability to create something from nothing, turning a crazy idea into a feasible engineering blueprint.
"Well then, I'll take my leave." Chu Hang released his hand, his smile unchanged. "I look forward to your good news, Tony. Don't let me, your investor, down."
After saying that, he turned and left with a flourish, leaving Tony standing there alone, his brows furrowed, lost in deep thought.
Chu Hang walked out of the Stark Industries building and looked up at the sky.
He felt that his mind was working better than ever before.
Chapter 83 New Elements
After Chu Hang left, Tony Stark locked himself in the basement studio of his Malibu beach villa.
In the huge studio, the only sounds were his pacing back and forth and the occasional harsh thud of him throwing tools on the table in frustration.
He dug out everything his father, Howard Stark, had left behind—everything he could find: dusty old photographs, yellowed and curled film, rolls of design drawings that had never been looked at after being printed out, and even some hastily written shopping lists on napkins.
Pepper would leave the food at the studio door every day without fail. But when she came to collect the plates the next day, the food was usually still the same, cold and stiff.
She could only see Tony's increasingly gaunt silhouette through the thick, soundproof glass.
His eyes were deeply sunken, his beard was unkempt, and he looked like a plant rapidly dehydrating. The pale blue light that once symbolized new life on his chest now appeared to him more like a countdown timer for death.
This word was like a cold pair of pliers, clamping tightly onto his heart. Black lines, like ugly cracks in a dried-up riverbed, spread from the edge of the reactor in his chest, climbing up his veins. Every day, he forced himself to drink several large glasses of green chlorophyll juice that tasted like rotting grass.
That thing, aside from making him feel nauseous, did nothing to stop the toxins from taking effect.
“Tony, you’re driving yourself crazy.” Pepper stood in the doorway, watching him once again roughly sweep a whole box of documents onto the floor, papers flying everywhere like snowflakes.
“I’m dying, Pepper!” Tony whirled around, his bloodshot eyes fixed on her, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded. “I have to find a way out before I’m completely poisoned by the thing I invented! That bastard was right, my old man Dad couldn’t have left nothing behind!”
The "bastard" he was referring to was naturally Chu Hang.
Chu Hang's casual words that day were like a red-hot steel nail, driven deep into his mind, burning his nerves day and night.
He eventually found it among a pile of relics he had categorized as "junk"—a massive city model that covered the entire center of the room. It was the star exhibit of the 1974 Stark Fair, one of his father's proudest masterpieces.