THE REAL PROTEGE-Chapter 515: XU CORPORATION: THE BOARDROOM STORM 2

Four Eyes’ expression became more focused.

"Fix it."

Chen swallowed.

"We are recalibrating predictive models—"

"Not enough."

Four Eyes’ voice dropped lower.

"If the system cannot predict chaos, then we must outthink chaos ourselves."

He stood and walked toward the screen, casting a shadow across the blueprint.

"Appease the European regulators. Offer stricter environmental and data compliance standards for the pilot phase. Let them believe they’ve gained leverage."

He turned, his expression measured and analytical.

"Let the Americans grumble. Once Europe’s conditions are set, the U.S. will demand its concessions. We will negotiate based on the strength of compliance. Make them all think they’ve won something."

The room stilled.

"This is not a battle of brute force. It is positioning."

Chen nodded rapidly, sweat gathering at his temple.

"Yes, Chairman."

Global Trade Networks

Shipping routes were displayed across the table, with red indicators marking congested ports and warning signals at logistics hubs in Europe and the Americas.

An executive cleared his throat.

"Europe demands faster connections. The Americas want exclusivity. We cannot satisfy both."

Jack exhaled sharply, frustration boiling over.

"Boss, we can’t carry the world on our backs!"

Four Eyes’ lips thinned.

He turned slowly, gaze piercing enough to silence the room without effort.

"We will satisfy neither," he said quietly. "We will dominate both."

A heavy silence followed. Jack shifted in his chair, glancing at the display of routes as if searching for a lifeline. Wei scribbled a note, her brow furrowed in apprehension. The city skyline flickered on the window’s surface, distant and unreachable.

"When I was a boy, I read of the siege of Chang’an. The walls did not rush. They endured. They encircled their enemies until surrender was inevitable."

He tapped the table.

"Expand the hubs. Increase redundancy. Force dependency. Make every trade route require our infrastructure."

A brief silence followed. Wei, one of the executives, considered the risks of the aggressive plan, including potential harm to smaller firms and the company’s reputation. She recognized that such a strategy could invite public backlash, regulatory scrutiny, and long-term consequences, even if immediate concerns were set aside.

Leadership acknowledged these concerns and mandated risk and ethics assessments alongside expansion plans. A monitoring committee would oversee compliance, stakeholder impact, and brand integrity. Any initiative risking regulatory or reputational harm would trigger executive review. Despite these safeguards, an underlying tension remained about the potential conflict between profit and principle.

In private, some executives whispered about the dangers of ambition unchecked. The company’s meteoric rise had already left casualties — smaller rivals absorbed or bankrupted, employees working double shifts, and longtime partners forced to renegotiate. The boardroom’s bright lights masked fatigue and anxiety gathering at the margins.

The executives stared at him.

"Let the world break," Four Eyes finished softly. "We will not."

A sense of unease spread through the room.

Not because it was unrealistic.

Because it was possible.

Medical Innovations

The biotech division’s presentation felt different. The boardroom lights dimmed a notch, as if in sympathy with the somber tone. A faint aroma of antiseptic drifted from a scientist’s coat, reminding everyone that the stakes extended far beyond profit margins.

Not aggressive.

Fragile.

Images showed scientists working late in the laboratory, vaccine prototypes in containment units, and funding projections entering a concerning range.

"We require additional capital to maintain research velocity," the division head said. His voice carried exhaustion more than fear.

Jack leaned toward Four Eyes and spoke quietly.

"We’re risking overextension. If one project collapses, the others follow."

For a fraction of a second, Four Eyes’ composure cracked.

His hand rose to his collar. His thumb pressed lightly against the pulse at his neck.

He sighed quietly.

Then it was gone.

"Then none will collapse," he said quietly.

His eyes hardened.

"We carry them all. That is the burden of leadership."

Outside the boardroom, the cost was visible.

Scientists worked past midnight, relying on caffeine. The pale glow of monitors illuminated their faces, eyes ringed red from lack of sleep. A senior researcher appeared exhausted, and two engineers discussed possible resignations in low voices beside the copy machine, their words muffled but urgent.

The company’s brilliance burned bright.

But it burned through people.

Leadership recognized the risk of employee attrition as stress increased. Four Eyes directed Human Resources to implement targeted retention programs and to provide immediate support to vulnerable teams, including counseling services, spot bonuses, expanded paid leave, and relocation assistance. Retaining talent was prioritized alongside external objectives.

Rival Corporations and Investor Pressure

The final report struck hardest.

"Our competitors in Tokyo and Seoul have secured contracts we were targeting," an executive announced, voice thin. "Investors are demanding answers."

Before panic could bloom fully—

A phone rang.

Jack glanced at the screen.

His color drained instantly.

"Julia Chen is calling."

The boardroom lights dimmed automatically as the video screen activated.

Her face appeared — cool, immaculate, composed.

Principal partner at Horizon Capital.

Xu Global is the largest outside investor. Years ago, she and Four Eyes had brokered an uneasy alliance that saved both companies from hostile takeover — an alliance built on mutual calculation, not trust. Rumors still circled of the fierce negotiation that had nearly turned them into rivals before a truce was forced by necessity. With Julia, every conversation was a careful duel, and personal stakes lingered behind every professional demand.

She surveyed the room with a sharp, assessing gaze.

"You are burning through my patience," she said evenly. "Deliver results within seventy-two hours, or Horizon Capital will begin publicly divesting."

A pause.

"The wolves are already circling. This is your only warning."

The call ended without a farewell.

The room filled with murmurs, papers shuffled, and someone quietly expressed frustration.

Jack’s hands shook visibly now.

"If they pull funding, we lose everything."

Four Eyes stood.

The movement alone restored silence.

"Let them circle," he said serenely.

His voice did not rise.

It did not need to.

"Xu Global does not bend. We dominate."

His gaze swept across every face—measuring fear, loyalty, doubt.

"Our rivals will choke on haste. Our investors will feast on triumph."

He paused.

"There are cards still unplayed."

His words left the executives considering possible strategies: alliances with European tech partners, new patent filings, and moves into emerging markets. Ideas tumbled through the room—perhaps a merger, a sudden media campaign, or a technological pivot no one outside the inner circle had foreseen. They recognized that several options were being prepared, though details remained confidential. Four Eyes tapped a folder labeled Project Willow, signaling a potential initiative known only to a few. The specifics were unspoken, but the gesture suggested further plans were in place.

Jack wondered what secrets lay inside that folder. Wei caught his eye across the table, her expression a mixture of hope and apprehension. Even the most seasoned executives felt the gravity of the moment.

The statement lingered in the room.

Confidence — or gamble?

Even Jack could not tell.

But he nodded.

In moments like this, belief was essential.

When the boardroom finally emptied, the echo remained.

Four Eyes stood alone by the window.

Below, the city continued, unaware and indifferent.

For a fleeting second, beneath the electric hum of crisis, he caught a memory.

Festival drums fading into the night.

Lantern oil.

Sweet incense drifting through glass gardens.

Laughter.

Gone.

Replaced by fluorescent light and the metallic scent of pressure.

His reflection stared back at him in the window.

Composed.

Unyielding.

But in his eyes — just for a breath—

There was a quiet acknowledgment of the sacrifices required. In the silence, Four Eyes remembered faces — old mentors, friends lost to ambition, promises made and broken in pursuit of something greater. The city pulsed below, indifferent to the burdens carried in its tallest towers.

The festival was over.

And the war had begun.