2: Chapter 2: A Strategic Mobilization Meeting Regarding Rotten Fruit

Klaus bowed, the shadow of his hat's brim concealing all expression on his face, leaving only a tense jawline visible.

He slowly backed away, his turn as stiff as a rusted hinge, each step landing so heavily it seemed he might stomp right through the floor.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor gradually faded, leaving only Levi's steady breathing and Evelyn's stifled gasps in the room.

The poison in the wine didn't seem to have taken effect, but the psychological shock left her limbs ice-cold, a chill that even a succubus's natural body heat could not dispel.

She remained kneeling by the bed, a posture that brought her unprecedented humiliation, yet she dared not move, nor even look up at the man who had just seized control of her life and death.

Levi said nothing more, simply leaning quietly against the headboard with his eyes closed to regulate his breathing.

His body was still weak; that high-intensity psychological gambit just now had nearly exhausted all his energy.

His brain buzzed like an overheated CPU after running at full capacity.

He had to seize this brief interval to force himself to regain some strength, for he knew that the next battle would be even tougher.

This wasn't a project kickoff meeting; it was a bloodless coup, and the only weapon in his hand was the brain that had been squeezed to its limit in his past life.

The only decent hall in the castle was less of a hall and more of a slightly spacious stone grotto.

The vaulted ceiling was high but blackened by years of smoke, and flickering iron candelabras hung from thick stone pillars, stretching everyone's shadows across the mottled walls like wraiths.

A long, scratch-ridden oak table sat in the center, its surface pitted as if witnessing generations of the Byron Family's decline.

Cold wind poured in through holes in the windows, swirling the dust on the floor and carrying a damp, musty smell.

Evelyn stood behind Levi like an exquisite but soulless doll.

She hadn't had time to tidy her clothes, which still bore suggestive creases, making her look out of place in such a grim atmosphere.

Her mind was a blank; terms like "Chief Operating Officer" and "Equity Incentives" were still swirling around, but she couldn't understand a single one.

She only knew that she had drunk Klaus's poisoned wine and boarded Levi's sinking wreck of a ship.

She could feel Klaus's resentful gaze pricking her back like poisoned needles.

The old butler, Klaus, stood by the entrance like a gloomy statue, arms crossed, watching coldly.

He wanted to see what kind of trick this useless young master was playing.

Gathering these few people for some nonsensical "meeting" was nothing more than a final burst of madness before death.

At the other end of the hall, a Halfling who didn't even reach Levi's waist was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

His name was Morg, and he was the only cook in the castle.

His faded white chef's uniform was stained with flour and grease, and his large, round eyes were filled with terror.

He wanted no part in the games of the noble lords.

"Burp..."

A loud beer burp broke the suffocating silence.

Two burly guards carried in a squat figure as if lugging a sack, then dropped him on the floor with a "thud."

He was a typical Grey Dwarf, his thick arms nearly the size of Morg's thighs, with beer foam clinging to his messy brown beard, smelling of a mix of cheap ale and wood shavings.

"Which bastard... dares to disturb Iron Hammer's drinking!" The Grey Dwarf struggled to sit up, his bell-like eyes bloodshot from intoxication. He looked around, finally locking his gaze on the pale human boy in the main seat.

Levi's gaze swept over the "team" before him, his heart unperturbed.

A scheming butler, a newly turned and unstable succubus assassin, a cowardly cook, and a dead-drunk craftsman.

This was his entire staff.

It was worse than the worst project team he had ever led in his past life.

Ignoring the Grey Dwarf's shouting, he slowly pulled something from his robe and slammed it onto the center of the oak table with a "thwack."

It was a fruit the size of a fist, pitch black and covered in bumps, looking like some kind of dried-up tumor.

This was the only specialty of the Blackstone Territory—the Blackstone Fruit.

It was something that even a Demonic Boar wouldn't bother to sniff if it were on the ground; its taste was sour and astringent, its only virtue being its massive yield, covering the hills and fields.

"What is this?" Levi spoke, his voice not loud but clearly reaching everyone's ears.

"A rotten fruit," Hammer Green snorted disdainfully, sounding drunk.

"Is it edible?" Levi turned his gaze to the cook.

"Re... reporting, Young Master, this thing... it causes diarrhea if eaten raw, and if cooked... the taste would make even a goblin vomit." Morg's voice was as thin as a mosquito's, for fear of saying a word wrong.

Levi nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

He extended a finger, lightly tapping the ugly Blackstone Fruit, and surveyed the room, announcing in the tone of a major strategic release: "From this day forward, this will be the core asset of our Blackstone Territory's future, the source of wealth for us all."

The air went deathly silent.

Morg's mouth fell open in an "O" shape, thinking he had misheard.

Evelyn looked at the fruit in confusion, unable to connect it at all to the "commercial empire" Levi had described earlier.

Hammer Green froze for a moment, then erupted into a world-shaking roar of laughter, doubling over as his beard quivered.

"Haha! Core asset? Source of wealth? Kid, did a donkey kick you in the head? You're going to get rich off this thing? I'd sooner expect gold to grow in my brewing barrels!"

At the door, the corner of Klaus's mouth curled into an unmasked sneer.

He understood now; this young master was either mad or stupid.

It seemed he wouldn't even need to lift a finger; within three days, the boy would starve himself to death with his own stupidity.

Faced with the skepticism and ridicule of the crowd, Levi's expression didn't change in the slightest.

He had anticipated this reaction.

Explaining a business model to a group of natives who didn't even know what a "market economy" was was like playing a lute to a cow.

Action is always the best instruction manual.

Ignoring the still-laughing Iron Hammer, his gaze pierced through to the cook, Morg: "Morg."

"Y-yes! Young Master!" The Halfling flinched.

"I'm giving you fifteen minutes. At your fastest speed, crush this fruit and all the fruits of this kind in your kitchen and juice them. I only want the liquid; throw away all the pulp."

"Huh? But Young Master, that juice is poisonous..."

"That is an order."

Morg's face instantly fell, but seeing Levi's calm yet cold eyes, he didn't dare argue. He could only run toward the kitchen with a long face.

Next, Levi's gaze shifted to Hammer Green, who was still giggling on the floor.

"Iron Hammer."

"What? Don't interrupt me laughing at you..."

Levi ignored him and continued: "I want you to use wood and copper sheets to make something for me immediately. A wooden barrel that can be completely sealed and heated, with an opening on the lid connected to a copper pipe. The copper pipe must be coiled into a spiral and submerged in a wooden basin filled with cold water. The other end of the copper pipe should have an outlet to collect liquid."

He described the principle of a simple distillation apparatus in the simplest language.

Iron Hammer's laughter came to an abrupt halt.

Though he was a drunkard, his dwarven craftsmanship was etched into his bones.

"A sealed, heated wooden barrel? It'll explode! And that coiled pipe... submerged in cold water? What exactly are you trying to do?"

"You don't need to know what I'm trying to do," Levi's tone remained flat. "You only need to know that you owe the castle fifty silver coins in liquor debt. Finish this, and the debt is cleared. If you don't, I'll have the guards throw you into the Blackstone River to feed the fish right now."

Iron Hammer's face instantly turned the color of pig liver.

Debt was his only weakness.

He glared fiercely at Levi, but eventually scrambled up from the floor grumbling, muttering "madman" and "wait and see the joke" as he wobbled toward his carpentry workshop.

The cold sneer on Klaus's face gradually froze.

The development of events was completely different from what he had envisioned.

This useless young master, instead of making a fool of himself in the face of everyone's doubts, had used an unquestionable toughness to drive the two people least likely to be obedient.

He didn't rely on force or money, but on a kind of... aura that Klaus couldn't understand.

Silence returned to the hall, save for the crackling of the burning candles.

Levi walked to the window and pushed open the creaking wooden frame, the cold night wind clearing his groggy head.

He looked out at the land that appeared even more barren under the moonlight, knowing this was only the first step.

Soon, Morg came running back carrying a basin of murky black liquid, the pungent, sour smell making everyone frown.

Shortly after, Iron Hammer also walked in carrying a bizarre-looking device.

It was extremely crude; the gaps in the wooden barrel were large enough to fit a finger through, and the copper pipe was crooked, clearly a product of perfunctory effort.

"It's done!" Iron Hammer slammed the device onto the floor and said gruffly.

Levi stepped forward and inspected it carefully.

As expected, it was riddled with flaws.

He didn't speak, just pointed to the fireplace: "Set the device up there. Morg, pour the juice into the barrel, put the lid on, and use wet mud to seal all the gaps."

Under Levi's forced supervision, this distillation equipment, which could be described as a disaster scene, finally began to operate.

Morg carefully controlled the fire, while Iron Hammer crossed his arms with an expression of waiting for the show to fail.

Time passed minute by minute, and as the black juice in the barrel began to boil, a strong, burnt sour smell began to permeate the hall.

No liquid dripped from the other end of the copper pipe; instead, white steam began to "hiss" out from various gaps in the wooden barrel.

After another ten minutes or so, a few drops of liquid finally fell from the end of the copper pipe.

Morg hurried to catch it with a wooden cup.

However, what was caught in the cup was a pool of thick black liquid with a strong burnt smell, even worse than the original juice.

"Failure! I told you this was a pipe dream!" Hammer Green roared immediately, as if catching a massive handle. "This is an insult to a dwarven craftsman's skill! Making me use precious copper and oak for this nonsensical garbage!" He felt his professionalism had been unprecedentedly trampled upon, clenching his fist the size of a casserole, looking as if he might charge forward at any second.

The mocking smile returned to Klaus's face. A farce is, after all, a farce.

However, Levi's face still showed no sign of anger or frustration; instead, it was frighteningly calm.

He walked to the failed product, dipped a finger in it, smelled it at the tip of his nose, and then looked at the still-leaking wooden barrel.

"For a first trial, having any output at all has exceeded my expectations," he said, then turned to the furious Iron Hammer. "There are two reasons for the failure. First, the heat source was unstable, causing part of the juice to burn before it could be distilled; that is Morg's responsibility. Second, and most importantly," his gaze sharpened, "the pipe was not properly sealed, and at least seventy percent of the steam leaked before it could condense. Master Iron Hammer, that is your problem."

He didn't accuse; he merely stated facts.

But this calm statement was more powerful than any roar.

Iron Hammer's anger seemed to be doused by a bucket of cold water; his face turned beet red, yet he couldn't utter a single word of rebuttal.

Because everything Levi said was correct.

Just then, Levi made a move that caught everyone by surprise.

He pulled three silver coins from his robe and tossed them onto the table, where they landed with a crisp clink.

In this dirt-poor castle, this amount of money was a fortune.

"This is the Project Bonus for this product's research and development," Levi's voice wasn't loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a hammer. "Whoever can solve the problems I just mentioned and make this device produce the liquid I want, these three silver coins will belong to them."

He skillfully transformed the technical insult into a blatant material incentive.

Hammer Green's breathing instantly became heavy.

His eyes were fixed on the three silver coins shining in the candlelight, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Three silver coins!

Enough for him to go to the best tavern in town and drink the highest-grade dwarven spirits for three days and nights!

The anger from being insulted just now was instantly replaced by a craving for fine liquor.

"I... I can fix it! It's just sealing, a piece of cake!" he almost roared, immediately rushing toward the crude device, his eyes filled with unprecedented focus.

Having dealt with the biggest troublemaker, Levi turned to Evelyn, who had been standing by the whole time, completely at a loss.

"Evelyn."

"Y-yes... Young Master."

"Now, I am giving you your first KPI as Chief Operating Officer," Levi said slowly, looking into her dark red pupils, which were still filled with confusion. "A succubus's talent isn't just seduction; you have a natural, sharp perception of human emotional fluctuations, especially negative emotions, right?"

Evelyn nodded instinctively.

"Very good. When the next batch of the finished product comes out, I want you to taste it, and then use your talent to tell me precisely which primal human emotions it can trigger. Is it greed, laziness, or anger? Describe these feelings in the most accurate language and rank them by intensity. This will be your first 'Product Selling Point Analysis Report'."