"Where should the money be donated, Sir?" Sunday asked.
Where to donate? William pondered for a moment before answering, "Set up an offshore fund. Make the ownership structure as complicated as possible. Then transfer all the money into the fund and use it to invest in futures contracts for rising gold prices. Set it up so that 10% of the total assets are donated annually. Other than the fund's ownership, everything else should be secretly donated to relevant foundations in China."
"Understood, Sir. It will take about two hours to get everything set up."
"Good. Now it's time to deal with the Eight-faced Buddha's subordinates," William said with a smile. "Has Black Blade scouted the ambush area yet?"
"Yes, Sir," Sunday replied. "Both sides are currently engaged 7 kilometers away in a valley. Based on the data from Black Blade, it appears the Eight-faced Buddha's forces have the upper hand."
"Then it's time for us to make our entrance." William opened a portal and returned to his castle, walking towards the Mark III armor area. "Help me suit up, and send all the triangular drones you've produced over to the area."
"Got it, Sir." Shortly after, the floor and ceiling where William stood opened up, and mechanical arms started whirring as they grabbed the Mark III components and began suiting William up from the inside out.
In just over 20 seconds, the entire suit was fitted onto William. As he sealed the helmet, he walked through the portal, followed by ten self-propelled launchers, each no bigger than a desk, as they rolled through the portal.
Once the portal was closed, the launchers lined up in a row. William looked at launcher number one, which had just fired its drones over an hour ago, and said with a smile to Sunday, "I didn't expect you to be able to build 28 triangular drones in less than two hours."
"To be precise, it took 45 minutes, Sir. The second level of the castle's underground facility now has two production lines. If you approve, we can add another line in just six days at our current pace."
William thought for a moment. "Add two more production lines, and we'll discuss further expansion later. It's just a shame that after today, these triangular drones probably won't be used much anymore. After all, I can't keep using these things, or people will start connecting the dots. And no matter how much we improve the propellers, the sound of multiple drones flying at once is still quite loud."
"Sir, the Black Blade drones can be modified to include a bullet-firing system, making them more discreet assassination tools than the triangular drones. If we improve the materials and operational duration, we can make them even smaller."
"That's a good idea. Try it out. Once you have a working model, we'll make a few and see how they perform. But for now, let's finish up here. Once these dogs finish tearing each other apart, we'll send all of the Eight-faced Buddha's men straight to hell."
"Understood, Sir." After waiting quietly for more than an hour, Sunday reported that the battle had ended and that the Eight-faced Buddha's men were cleaning up the battlefield. Now impatient, William ordered Sunday to commence the operation. The launchers immediately fired off their payloads with a series of "whoosh, whoosh, whoosh" sounds.
Two minutes later, 280 drones were hovering in the sky. William opened the portal to send the launchers back to the castle, then commanded Sunday to direct all the drones toward the battle site, 7 kilometers away.
At 600 kilometers per hour, it took the triangular drones just over 40 seconds to reach their destination.
As the drones flew off, William sealed the helmet on his Mark III suit and launched himself into the sky. Activating the night vision mode, he observed the triangular drones forming more than 20 columns, heading toward the conflict zone.
"Haha, they may be small, but seeing 280 drones in formation still looks quite impressive. It's got a bit of that bomber squadron feel from the movies."
One minute later, the Eight-faced Buddha's men, still cleaning the battlefield, were startled by the distinctive hum of the drones. Before they could react, William, in his Mark III armor trailing blue exhaust flames, dived down and landed with a "boom" five meters in front of their commander, kneeling on one knee with both arms spread wide, blue lights glowing from his helmet's eye slits.
"Satan sends his regards, bastard," William said as he stood up. He raised his right arm, palm outward, and blue energy began to glow from his repulsor. Before the commander could even finish shouting "Fire," William blasted him away with a single shot.
Next, two shoulder-mounted launchers popped out of William's suit. The helmet's targeting system locked onto nearby enemies, and ten rockets were fired in quick succession, instantly killing the closest ten leaders.
Finally, the rest of the men snapped out of their shock and started firing at William. "Rat-a-tat-tat!" The bullets bounced harmlessly off his armor with a "ding-ding-ding" sound, unable to penetrate the suit's defenses.
William scanned the area. The suit's smart targeting system highlighted all weapons that posed a threat to the armor. Following Sunday's guidance, William stretched out both arms, and two small missile launchers popped out from his forearms. Six "whoosh" sounds later, the heavy machine gunners and rocket-launcher operators were blown to pieces.
Meanwhile, the 280 drones, camouflaged by the night, began their suicide dives toward their pre-designated targets. The simultaneous dive-bombing left no chance for the armed fighters to react or fire back.
"Boom, boom, boom!" The intense explosions went on for a full minute. After the carnage, Sunday reported, "Sir, based on our analysis, the survival probability for anyone in this area is zero. The mission has been perfectly executed."
"But I must remind you, Sir, that there is a 55% chance that the recent explosions attracted the attention of nearby satellites. Unless you authorize me to hack into these satellites, I strongly suggest hiding the Mark III armor."
"OK, time to disappear after a good show—just the way I like it." William immediately activated his suit's thrusters, propelling him into the sky and disappearing into the clouds.
He flew to a remote island, landed, and opened a portal back to the castle. Feeling pleased, he stood on the platform as four mechanical arms swiftly removed his armor.
Despite having taken hundreds of bullets, the armor was completely unscathed, leaving William very satisfied with the performance of the Mark III, even though it was just a transitional model. "Sunday, can you produce the Mark III on your own now?"
"As long as we have the necessary materials, producing the Mark III is no problem. Estimated production time is 25 hours," Sunday replied.
"Then go ahead and build one for my mother, adjusted to her height," William said as he walked to the 3D virtual workspace and grabbed a virtual imaging pen. "Create a new task: Task name—Mark V Portable Armor."
"Understood, Sir. Task created."
Holding the virtual imaging pen, William stood in front of the virtual design table. "Let's get started. We need to finish the Mark V as soon as possible. The fact that the Mark III can't be equipped on the fly is still inconvenient. We don't want to be caught unprepared when something happens."
While William diligently hid away in the castle's basement designing the Mark V, he left a mess for others to clean up after the carnage he caused.
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[w w w . p @ t r e o n . c o m / M u t t e r]