72: Chapter 72 The Media Emperor's Bet

In the early morning at the "Sanctuary" nursing home in the suburbs of Washington, Weber did not linger.

He left Howard with the medical team, letting them experience the shock of a "miracle" descending, while he himself, under the protection of "Tyrant," took a private jet directly to New York.

The next day, New York, the top floor of the headquarters of the media giant "Voice of the Globe."

Chen Feng's system notification sounded right on time, letting him know that Weber's operations were unfolding smoothly.

He knew that the tickets for this "Noah's Ark" were being distributed by Weber one by one, and at this moment, Weber was facing his next "passenger."

In the top-floor office, sunlight spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, yet it could not dispel a hint of chill.

Edgar Winston, the media tycoon who controlled the global winds of public opinion, was currently sitting behind a massive mahogany desk.

His hair was grey, his face gaunt, his eyes still sharp, but those hands that once wielded immense power were trembling slightly.

He wanted to pick up the coffee cup on the table, but could not steady it, and had to give up helplessly.

Weber walked in with his butler Louis and the silent Tyrant.

Howard followed closely behind; he was wearing a well-fitting suit, and although he was still a bit pale, his back was straight, his eyes clear, and his gait steady—looking nothing like the patient who had been dying in a hospital bed just the day before.

Edgar's gaze first fell on Weber, then on Howard.

His pupils constricted sharply, revealing an expression of disbelief.

He had known Howard for decades and knew he had been tortured by illness until he was barely human.

But now... it was as if he were a completely different person!

"Long time no see, Edgar." Weber walked to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down with composed movements.

Edgar swallowed with difficulty and pointed at Howard, his voice somewhat hoarse: "Howard... you..."

Howard smiled, his smile carrying a hint of the relief of surviving a disaster and a fanaticism for his new life: "Mr. Weber gave me a 'ticket'."

Weber did not wait for Edgar to press further; he took out a vial emitting a faint blue glow from the metal briefcase Louis handed over.

He placed it gently on the table in front of Edgar, right next to that trembling hand.

"This is yours." Weber was blunt and straight to the point, "It can make you like us, possessing a healthy body once again."

Edgar's gaze was fixed intently on the vial, his eyes complex.

He certainly knew that Weber would not give him something like this for no reason.

"What are the conditions?" He asked, a hint of hard-to-detect eagerness in his voice.

Weber leaned forward slightly, his tone calm but every word weighted with significance: "Your 'Voice of the Globe' group will become the mouthpiece for our 'ship'. We need a voice—a voice that can speak for us, and even write history for us."

He paused, his eyes deep: "And in return, besides your health, there is the qualification to get a share of the biotechnology field. Edgar, think about it: when everything in the old world is washed away and a new order needs to be established, who will define the rules? Who will guide the direction?"

"History will be written by us, and you will be the scribe."

Edgar's breathing became heavy.

He was a man with an intense desire for control, and Weber's words hit the deepest desire in his heart precisely.

Health, and the power to participate in setting the rules of the new world, were far more tempting than the wealth he currently possessed.

But he was, after all, a formidable figure, not a fool easily swayed by sugar-coated bullets.

He frowned and said: "This sounds like a massive gamble, Weber. The risk is too high."

Weber chuckled, that smile carrying a hint of insight into everything.

"Risk?" He countered, "Edgar, do you think you have no risks right now?"

Edgar's heart jumped, and he looked at Weber with a wary gaze.

Weber continued unhurriedly: "I heard that your old rival, that fellow named Steve Morgan, has been quite active recently. He seems to have obtained some 'interesting' information about your early capital accumulation, for example, those mineral rights acquired through illegal means, and some shady business operations."

Edgar's complexion instantly turned ashen.

These matters were his deepest buried secrets, known only to a very few confidants.

Morgan was indeed investigating him in secret, but he didn't expect Weber to know even these details clearly.

"He seems to be planning to make these things public at next month's board meeting." Weber's tone remained flat, yet it was like a sharp knife, stabbing directly into Edgar's heart, "When that time comes, Edgar Winston, you won't be any media tycoon anymore. Ruined reputation, perhaps even imprisonment—none of that is impossible."

Edgar's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

He stared fixedly at Weber, his eyes filled with shock, anger, and a trace of fear.

"Don't worry." Weber seemed to see through his thoughts, his tone suddenly becoming gentle, yet carrying an unquestionable strength, "As long as you get on the ship, these troubles will disappear. Your rival will disappear before you do."

The massive temptation and the deadly threat, at this moment, pushed Edgar Winston to the edge of a cliff.

He looked at the vial emitting a blue glow on the table, and remembered Weber's promise that "your rival will disappear before you do."

He knew Weber had this capability, and he also knew Weber never spoke empty words.

His trembling hand finally reached out toward the vial and gripped it tightly.

"I'm in." Edgar's voice was low but filled with determination.

He understood that this was a gamble where everything was at stake.

If he won the bet, he would upgrade from a media tycoon to one of the rule-makers of the new world.

If he lost... he had nothing left to lose anyway.

Weber nodded in satisfaction, a rare smile appearing on his face.

"Very good." He stood up and patted Edgar's shoulder, "Prepare your sharpest pen, Edgar. Our first target will surface very soon."

He turned to his butler Louis and instructed: "Louis, contact the 'Vulture' of Wall Street, Alan Fisher. Tell him our 'ship' is ready to set sail. Also, invite General Clark to attend tomorrow's 'Alliance' founding meeting."

Louis responded respectfully and immediately began to make contact.

Edgar watched Weber's departing back, then looked down at the vial in his hand, his eyes complex.

He knew that from this moment on, the trajectory of his life, as well as the media empire he controlled, would be completely changed.

He had stepped onto a path of no return, the future uncertain, but he had chosen to take the gamble.

Chen Feng, in his laboratory far away, curled the corner of his mouth.

Weber's efficiency was very high, even faster than he had anticipated.

The first batch of "tickets" had been distributed, and this "Noah's Ark," forged from "life" and "power," was absorbing various tycoons at an astonishing speed.

He knew that a real storm was about to sweep the globe.

And he was at the center of this storm.