Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet

"Hah, I didn't expect this paranoid guy to hold a grudge like that," William grinned. "Fine, if he doesn't want me to go, I won't. From now on, focus all efforts on producing drone carriers and spider robot launchers. I want to know everything that happens at tomorrow's banquet."

"Understood, sir. Production tasks are underway. We estimate that by 4 PM tomorrow, we can produce five drone carriers and ten spider robot launchers."

The next day at 4 PM, William opened a portal back to the castle basement. The five drone carriers and ten spider robot launchers automatically flew out through the portal and headed to the Devonshire Manor in London.

After adjusting the coordinates slightly, the carriers and launchers flew from the manor to Valentine's new residence in London.

William lounged on a sofa in the basement, watching a virtual projection table about one meter square. On the three-meter-by-three-meter holographic screen, he monitored the drone carriers and spider robot launchers in real time.

Twenty minutes later, when the launchers were within 100 meters of Valentine's villa, they released the spider robots. The drone carriers, the size of a large basin, hovered at an altitude of 1,200 meters, releasing 30 half-loaded Black Blade drones, monitoring the main road and the villa within a kilometer radius.

The spider robots, each the size of a fingernail, easily crawled into Valentine's villa through the sewer. In about 10 minutes, 100 spider robots began monitoring the entire villa.

Some of the spider robots, under Sunday's control, even crawled onto the bodies of several eccentric rock stars dressed in outfits adorned with metal buttons, blending in as part of their clothing.

After releasing the spider robots, the launchers ascended into the sky and hovered in pairs, 10 kilometers apart, acting as signal boosters.

They tested the maximum signal range, ensuring there wouldn't be a repeat of the incident from a week ago when the spider robots couldn't transmit the signal due to distance while monitoring Maggie's group.

After half an hour of testing, Sunday reported, "Sir, it seems we were overly cautious. Just one signal booster can cover a radius of 24 kilometers for the spider robots, and a 24-kilometer radius is enough to connect to any satellite aimed at the launcher from space. The only advantage of using multiple boosters is that there's no delay in transmission, like when relying on satellites, where a one- or two-second lag occurs. Using five pairs of ten boosters is a bit of an overkill."

"There's no such thing as overkill," William replied dismissively. "Each one costs only a few thousand pounds, and two combined cost less than ten thousand pounds. Even a few hundred units would only total a few million pounds. I couldn't care less about that."

"How are the drone carriers performing?"

"Everything's running smoothly. With wind speeds below level 7, they can deploy or recover a drone in six seconds. The disc-shaped carriers have four deployment and recovery ports on top, allowing all operations to be completed in 20 seconds under normal conditions. The third-generation Black Blade drones are equipped with a small-caliber projectile launcher, but they can only fire one bullet at a time, with an effective range of 40 meters. The power is equivalent to a handgun, but the drones have a 30% chance of being damaged after three shots, and a 100% chance after five."

"Hah, one shot is enough. Who would expect them to survive five? These tiny things flying overhead wouldn't be spotted unless someone specifically looks up. Even at ten meters, they'd be hard to notice, let alone at thirty or forty meters. And if it's night… ha! Just thinking about it feels like cheating."

As they chatted, time flew by. At 6 PM, the guests began arriving. Valentine, dressed in a full formal suit but wearing a red baseball cap, appeared in the banquet hall. Standing on the platform with the band, Valentine grabbed the microphone and said, "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. I am Chimonde Valentine, Chairman of the Valentine Group. I'm glad you could attend my first banquet in London. I appreciate efficiency, so I hope you all have a great evening. Thank you."

The guests were a bit surprised that Valentine spoke so briefly, but this was exactly to their liking. As soon as Valentine stepped down from the stage, applause erupted throughout the hall.

At precisely 7 PM, Prime Minister James arrived. Valentine, smiling warmly, turned to the black woman standing beside him and said, "Are you ready, Paula?"

"Of course," replied the woman with long black hair and blade-shaped prosthetic legs, "I've added something special to James' drink. As long as he drinks it, you could make him jump into a river tonight if you wanted."

"Jump into a river?" Valentine shook his head. "No, he's a prime minister, making him jump into a river would be too disrespectful. But at least you didn't suggest making him do a striptease… ugh, the thought makes me want to puke."

"Mr. Valentine, thank you for inviting me to the banquet," James called out cheerfully as he approached from five or six meters away.

After they shook hands, Valentine said, "The pleasure is all mine. Please, Prime Minister James." Valentine gestured for James to follow him into the villa.

As soon as they entered, Paula approached with a tray holding two glasses and a bottle of Macallan 1969.

"Wow, Macallan 1969, a rare gem. Wasting even a drop of this would be a crime," James exclaimed as he accepted the glass Valentine personally poured for him. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it. To our first meeting, cheers." Valentine downed his glass in one go. "Amazing. Every time I drink a vintage Macallan, it feels different. Enjoy yourself, James. I'll excuse myself for a moment."

Seeing Valentine drink the whiskey himself, James smiled and said, "As you wish."

After Valentine left, James watched Paula walk away with the Macallan 1969, regretfully downing the whiskey in his glass. He then asked her, "Dear lady, could I trouble you for another pour?"

"Of course, Prime Minister," Paula smiled, glancing at James' glass before pouring him another. "I'm sorry, but due to certain reasons, we can't offer this whiskey for the entire evening. If you'd like more, you can find me."

"Haha, I understand. Anyone who serves Macallan vintage whiskey throughout a party would be cursed by whiskey lovers worldwide the next day," James said with a satisfied grin, holding his half-full glass of whiskey. "Thank you, my lady."

As the night wore on, James drank more and more, growing increasingly cheerful and exhilarated. By 9 PM, all his worries about his recent drop in public support had vanished.

By 10 PM, two-thirds of the guests had left, and just as James was about to leave, Valentine appeared with a bottle of Macallan 1956. Already 70% drunk, James suddenly no longer wanted to go.

As they drank and chatted, James found himself agreeing with Valentine on many things. Not only did he no longer feel any animosity toward him, but he even began to like Valentine.

"Prime Minister James, could you escort me home?" A young woman's voice suddenly called out from behind James.

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