Chapter 75 The Roar from Europe and the Alliance of the "Great Misfits"

Meanwhile, ten thousand miles away in Frankfurt, Germany.

On the top floor of the Braun headquarters building, the rich aroma of cigars mixed with the pungency of whiskey filled the opulent conference room.

"Gentlemen, this is the best news I've heard all year."

Olson, the president of Braun, swirled the crystal-clear ice cubes in his glass, showing a confident smile to the board members.

"Hans has sent a telegram from the East."

"He has discovered a micro-motor technology that is ahead of its time."

"God bless them, those Easterners are simply adorable in their simplicity; they are actually willing to license this aerospace-grade treasure to us."

Olson smugly propped his feet up on the table, his shoe tips even brushing against the antique globe.

"As long as we secure 'priority licensing'..."

"...before Christmas, our 'Super Shaver' will be able to sweep Philips' pile of two-thousand-RPM scrap metal into the trash!"

"By then, eighty percent of the global market share will be all ours!"

The board members raised their glasses one after another, and the air was filled with a sense of merriment.

In their view, this was yet another typical 'technology harvest'—

Using brand advantage and capital to plunder the research results of underdeveloped regions for immense profit.

Just then, the conference room door was burst open.

The secretary frantically turned on the speakerphone, and Hans's overseas call exploded in the middle of the conference table like a high-explosive grenade.

"President... the situation has changed!"

"Everything has changed!"

Hans's voice sounded extremely distorted through the receiver, carrying a desperation that sounded as if he were about to cry.

Olson frowned slightly, somewhat displeased.

"Hans, as a Germanic gentleman, please maintain your dignity."

"Is it that those Easterners have raised the price at the last minute?"

"Give it to them! We aren't short of a few US dollars!"

"No! This isn't about money!"

Hans interrupted his superior with a near roar.

"They aren't playing the monopoly game at all!"

"That bastard named Lin Xi sold the license to Philips!"

"He sold it to Moonstand! He sold it to Four Star!"

"He even sold it to a Italy workshop that used to make umbrellas!"

"Now, anyone can sign as long as they pay! Currently, thirty-two manufacturers have obtained the license!"

"He's taking a four-dollar 'technology tax' per machine! No bargaining!"

"The most outrageous part is that he demands all outer packaging must have 'Made in China' printed in the most prominent position!"

Crash!

The crystal glass in Olson's hand shattered, splashing pale yellow liquid all over the floor.

"Thirty-two manufacturers?"

Olson's breathing became heavy, and his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"Is he crazy?"

"If everyone has the same technology, what happens to our brand premium?"

"What about our moat?"

"That's the most insidious part!" Hans's voice grew more tearful.

"That Lin Xi said that if we, Braun, don't sign, the other thirty-one will quickly launch low-priced high-end products."

"They could squeeze Braun out of the market within six months."

"We... we have no choice but to follow along and sign!"

Olson felt as if the bones had been sucked out of his body as he slumped into his leather chair.

He thought he was the hunter looking down from above, but in the end, that young Easterner had directly poisoned the entire forest.

This wasn't selling technology; this was wholesaling it like cheap cabbage!

Not only did they have to pay, but they were also forced to brawl in the mud with a bunch of second-rate factories.

The most frustrating part was that all the participants, win or lose, had to pay a protection fee to that 'Red Star Service Cooperative'!

"Four dollars per unit..." Olson stared fixedly at the ceiling, his brain rapidly calculating.

If they signed this, Braun would be handing over several million US dollars in pure profit to China for nothing every year.

"President, should we break the contract?" the technical director asked cautiously.

"Break the contract?" Olson gave a miserable laugh.

"If we don't sign, Braun just waits to die;"

"If we do sign, we're just working for that Eastern kid."

"You tell me, which way should I choose to die?"

The conference room fell into a dead silence.

These European industrial giants, who had been arrogant their entire lives, felt for the first time what it was like to be bullied by both technology and rules.

"No, we still have a chance!"

Olson stood up abruptly, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes.

"All the licensed manufacturers need those high-performance motors."

"The core of those high-performance motors lies in the magnetic materials!"

"That kind of magnetic force absolutely requires rare earths and top-tier sintering processes!"

"Go investigate! Go blockade!"

Olson's face was distorted as he roared through gritted teeth:

"We will choke him at the source of the raw materials!"

"As long as we control the supply of magnets, the technology license is just a piece of scrap paper!"

"Since we can't win by the rules, we'll just flip the table!"

...

Under the same sky, joys and sorrows are not shared.

The final day of the Canton Fair.

As closing time approached, the booth of the Seventh Ministry of Machine Building Industry was still packed, its popularity comparable to a modern-day viral check-in spot.

However, the core transactions had already been settled.

In the temporary warehouse backstage.

Sun Erga squatted on the ground, holding a worn-out abacus, clicking it rapidly.

His face was split into a grin like a ripe pomegranate, impossible to hide.

"Manager, it's miraculous! Truly miraculous!"

Sun Erga looked up sharply, his eyes filled with US dollar signs.

"I just checked the numbers again."

"Just for the 'Whirlwind' shaver orders, between stock on hand and pre-orders, we've broken 16,000 units!"

"That's over a million US dollars!"

"And those suckers who signed the licensing agreements..."

"Oh no, I mean international business partners."

Sun Erga wiped away some drool. "The deposits also add up to nearly 2 million US dollars."

"And the fans!"

"Affected by this summer's explosive popularity, the orders for this Canton Fair, just tallied up..."

Sun Erga held up one finger and said tremblingly, "1.5 million units!"

"If all of these are delivered, our factory will be rolling in a mountain of gold next year and still won't be able to spend it all!"

Lin Xi sat on a nearby cot with his legs crossed.

He held an enamel tea mug, his expression calm.

But the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth betrayed his good mood.

In his field of vision, on the semi-transparent light screen, bullet comments were drifting by like snowflakes.

【The Streamer has won big this time! It looks like the fans can become a cash cow that continuously generates income!】

【I can't help but laugh seeing Erga's 'never seen the world' look. Who understands this kind of happiness?】

【The person above, I do! We were too poor back then; seeing this sudden wealth is truly satisfying!】

【This is called the tears of capitalists, our source of joy, Hahaha!】

"Stay calm, this is just a basic operation, no need to be amazed."

Lin Xi blew on the tea leaves.

"When these foreigners sell our fans like crazy next year and treat the shavers like family heirlooms, that's when we'll truly be counting the big money."

"What we have now is just some pocket change; it's not even enough to fill the gaps between Old Qian's teeth for his experimental equipment."

Sun Erga chuckled foolishly and scratched his head.

"Manager, that tone of yours."

"It's just that my education level isn't high enough, otherwise I'd have to come up with a couple of lines of poetry to praise you."

In this jubilant atmosphere, which could even be described as having a 'nouveau riche' air...

...a burst of hurried footsteps, accompanied by heavy panting, suddenly shattered the peace.

"Manager... Manager Lin! Something's happened!"