The office was so quiet you could hear the gentle whisper of the central air conditioning.
On the massive data wall, the global sales total for the NERvGear had already surpassed the 7.5 billion mark and was still climbing at a visible rate.
The torrent of money hadn't slowed in the slightest, despite the media firestorm raging outside.
"Boss."
Wang Nuo's voice shattered the silence. He pushed the door open, his steps much heavier than when he had left.
He placed a printed report on the desk in front of Paul, his expression grim.
"Things aren't looking good," Wang Nuo said, his words coming out in a rush, clearly holding back a well of anger. "Starting at nine this morning, our backend has received over thirty thousand return requests, almost all from family accounts of underage users."
"Feedback from our major distributors shows a catastrophic drop in sales to the youth market—a decline of over ninety percent."
"The PR department's phone lines are about to melt. The interview requests from the media are piling up, all wanting to know our thoughts on the nickname 'digital heroin'."
After his report, Wang Nuo pressed his lips together, staring at Paul's back.
The young man remained with his back to him, gazing at the data wall as if the soaring numbers were the only thing that mattered.
The pressure in the office was so heavy it was hard to breathe.
Wang Nuo knew. The boss was truly furious.
Sometimes, silence is more oppressive than a roar.
After a long moment, Paul finally swiveled his chair around. His face was devoid of expression, but his eyes were as cold as ice.
"What about Obadiah?"
"We've got it," Wang Nuo answered immediately. "On the day of the press conference, he sent three messages. The recipients were the editor-in-chief of *The Global Times*, the founder of *The Vanguard Forum*, and... the Vice President of the gaming division at Microhard."
Microhard?
Wang Nuo's brows furrowed. He had a faint feeling this was more complicated than he'd imagined.
Why would a veteran of Stark Industries contact the vice president of a gaming company?
"Not enough," Paul said, lightly tapping the desk as he uttered the two words.
"What?" Wang Nuo was taken aback.
"I said, this information is not enough."
Paul's voice was calm but held an unquestionable tone of command.
Just then, a gentle, electronic voice sounded in the office.
"Sir, perhaps I can provide some additional information."
A soft beam of light projected onto the conference table, and a chubby, white virtual figure materialized—it was Baymax.
His form was more advanced than his original healthcare companion design, with pale blue data streams flowing along his lines.
"According to my analysis of global network data traffic, this media assault originated from three hundred and seventy-two sources, distributed across seventeen countries."
Baymax's voice was still soft and gentle, but the content of his words made Wang Nuo gasp.
Three hundred and seventy-two sources? What a massive operation!
The light shifted, and three distinct company logos appeared on the tabletop.
A plumber in a red hat, grinning his trademark smile.
A window made of four colored squares.
And another, the four geometric shapes of a classic controller's buttons.
Nintendo.
Microhard.
Sony.
The three titans of the global gaming industry, presented before them in a manner that was utterly oppressive.
"Within seventy-two hours of the NERvGear's release, Nintendo's global console sales fell by sixty-two percent, Microhard's by fifty-eight percent, and Sony's by seventy-one percent."
"The stock prices of all three companies have evaporated by an average of fifteen percent."
"According to intercepted and decrypted communications, the three companies reached a secret agreement twenty-four hours ago, jointly funding a two-hundred-and-seventy-million-dollar media assault plan, codenamed 'Purge'. Obadiah Stane was merely one of their contacts in the United States."
Baymax stated the facts calmly, but every number felt like a sledgehammer blow to Wang Nuo's heart.
So that's how it is.
The real puppet masters were these three seemingly fading hegemons of a bygone era.
They united out of fear.
Unable to keep up, they chose to stab him in the back.
"Heh."
A soft, cold chuckle escaped Paul's throat.
He slowly rose to his feet and walked to the immense floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the bustling city below.
The sunlight was blinding, stretching his shadow long across the floor.
"Wang Nuo."
"Yes, boss!" Wang Nuo instinctively straightened his back.
"Notify the legal department. Immediately send letters to these three companies, and to every media outlet and individual who participated in spreading these rumors. Sue them for unfair business competition and defamation. As for the damages?" Paul paused. "Just add a zero to their market caps."
Wang Nuo's eye twitched violently.
Add a zero to their market caps? This wasn't just playing hardball; this was devouring them whole.
"Notify the business department. Effective immediately, terminate all partnerships with these three companies. Cease production on all products using their patented technology and find replacements. All suppliers with deep ties to them are to be placed on a watch list."
Paul's tone was devoid of any emotion, as if he were discussing something trivial.
"I don't want to see the logos of these three anywhere in Paul-Tech ever again."
"Yes, sir!" Wang Nuo felt his own blood begin to boil.
This was the boss he knew! No explanations, no compromises—just a direct, overwhelming frontal assault!
Paul turned, his gaze falling upon Baymax's virtual form.
"Baymax."
"I am here, sir."
"I want everything on them." Paul's eyes were as deep as a bottomless well. "Financial loopholes, technological backdoors, private scandals of their executives, every shady deal they've ever made... I want anything and everything that can bring them to ruin."
"Strip them bare and hang their dirty laundry on the screens in Times Square."
"As you command, sir. Data intrusion module activated. Preliminary information screening is estimated to be complete within six hours," Baymax replied crisply.
"Also," Paul's tone softened slightly, "establish the 'Youth Creativity Fund' in Paul-Tech's name. Initial funding of one billion dollars, to support creative projects by young people worldwide in technology, art, literature, and other fields."
"Simultaneously, release the NERvGear's version 1.1 system update. Add a new 'Parental Guardian Mode' and 'Healthy Gaming Reminders'. After two hours of continuous use, the user will be forced into a fifteen-minute relaxation mode, where the interface will display relaxation videos designed jointly by the world's top neuroscientists and psychologists."
Wang Nuo was completely stunned.
He looked at Paul, momentarily at a loss for words.
On one hand, a devastating, take-no-prisoners commercial retaliation. On the other, a quiet, humanistic act of philanthropy and social responsibility.
Both commands, issued by the same person at the same time, formed a bizarre yet harmonious whole.
He suddenly understood.
Paul wasn't just counter-attacking. He was using this opportunity to declare to the entire world—
The rules of the old era are obsolete.
A new king has been crowned.
"Get it done," Paul waved his hand. "I want to see the first 'surprise' before sunrise tomorrow."
"Understood!"
Wang Nuo nodded firmly and strode out, his back straight with renewed fighting spirit.
The office fell silent once more.
Paul settled back into his chair, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the armrest.
His gaze seemed to pierce through space and time, seeing the panicked faces in the boardrooms of those three companies.
*Trying to defeat me with public opinion?*
*How naive.*
*You don't even know what you're up against.*
A humorless smirk finally touched the corner of Paul's mouth.
A game?
No. The moment you decided to make your move, the game was already over.
Now, it's time for judgment.