The Tycoon's Odyssey

Chapter 388 388:Wrong Move

In the opulent office chamber adorned with rich wooden paneling and illuminated with subdued golden light, President Malcolm Stokes of the United Sovereign League adjusted his crimson tie.

His sharp navy suit was immaculate, his expression calm but shadowed by frustration.

Before him, a holographic screen shimmered to life, projecting the image of Zhao Renshu, the Prime Minister of Daxia. Zhao's composed face was framed by the ornate backdrop of his private study, a subtle symbol of his authority.

"Prime Minister Zhao," Malcolm began with a cordial nod. "I appreciate you taking the time. I trust this conversation remains strictly confidential between us?"

"Of course, President Stokes," Zhao replied, his tone even but tinged with caution. "These are delicate matters, after all."

Malcolm leaned forward, his elbows resting on the polished mahogany desk. "I'll get straight to the point. The situation with Indra has escalated beyond expectation. These protests… they're growing relentlessly. Our measures to deflect or distract them are proving ineffective."

Zhao's lips pressed into a thin line. "We are facing similar challenges in Daxia. Indra's reforms have emboldened the masses, and now Evan's advancements are pushing us into a corner. His disruptive strategies—whether political or technological—are undermining us. His moves are making it increasingly difficult to maintain control."

Malcolm's brow furrowed. "Agreed. His influence casts a long shadow and is reshaping the global narrative. The mandatory education for politicians to this alleged cure for cancer… he's painting us all as relics of a bygone era. People are questioning their own governments, their leaders, and their futures. And now these public demonstrations—they're coordinated, civic, and effective, amplifying that dissent. Tell me, Zhao, how are you managing?"

Zhao's jaw tightened as he clasped his hands before him. "By maintaining a firm grip, but it's slipping. The state media continues to discredit Evan and Indra's reforms, calling them reckless, but the younger generation isn't buying it. They're bypassing our filters, seeking truth through channels we can't control. It's a cancer, one that spreads beyond just policies. His technological advancements are leaving our industries in the dust. And whispers of alliances forming against us are growing louder."

Malcolm's eyes darkened, his tone resolute. "We need a countermeasure—one that stifles his influence while ensuring our economies remain stable. Which brings me to my proposal."

Straightening in his chair, Malcolm exuded an air of authority. "Let us form a discrete trade pact. Daxia's manufacturing capabilities combined with the League's access to rare earth materials could create a formidable front. Together, we could outpace Indra and Evan, securing both economic and technological dominance."

Zhao raised an eyebrow, his expression contemplative. "You're proposing an exclusive bilateral agreement? One that bypasses existing trade networks?"

"Precisely," Malcolm confirmed. "We keep it under wraps, operate through intermediaries, and ensure neither of our nations is exposed to Indra's retaliation. In return, we collaborate on technological advancements that match or outpace Evan's innovations."

Zhao leaned back, his sharp gaze unyielding. "An ambitious plan, Malcolm. But secrecy is paramount. If this leaks, it could destabilize not only our economies but our political structures."

Malcolm nodded. "Understood. My team will draft the initial terms and transmit them through secure channels. We need to act quickly and decisively."

Before Zhao could respond, an aide entered Malcolm's office and handed him a discreet tablet. Malcolm glanced at it, his jaw tightening. He looked back at Zhao. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short. I've just been informed of a pressing matter that needs my attention. I trust we're aligned?"

Zhao's expression remained neutral, though a hint of satisfaction flickered in his eyes. "For now, yes. Send me the terms. Good luck, Malcolm."

With that, the call ended. Malcolm set the tablet down, his brow furrowed as another incoming call flashed on his screen. The name on the display read: Nicholas Hawthorne, CEO of H.E.L.M. Pharmaceuticals. Malcolm exhaled sharply, bracing himself, and answered.

The moment the connection stabilized, Nicholas's voice erupted through the speakers. "Stokes! How much longer do you expect me to play this waiting game?"

Malcolm raised a hand, his tone measured. "Nicholas, calm down. We've been over this—"

"Calm down?" Nicholas cut him off, practically shouting. "Do you have any idea what's happening out there? Other nations—your so-called allies—have started distributing the cure at a fraction of what we agreed. Do you understand what this means for my company?"

Malcolm's face hardened, though his voice remained steady. "I assure you, we'll address this. Your time will come—"

"Time?" Nicholas snarled. "You promised exclusivity! Now I'm being sabotaged because of you. My team's research, years of development—it's all going to waste because you couldn't hold up your end of the deal."

Malcolm's stomach churned, but he forced himself to remain composed. "Nicholas, this isn't sabotage. It's a temporary setback—"

"A temporary setback?" Nicholas's voice cracked with rage. "Don't insult my intelligence. You knew this would happen, didn't you? You used me—and now I'm the one left with nothing, while your rivals profit from my work!"

Nicholas's accusations echoed in his head. "You didn't give me the permit to operate and asked to stay down until the time comes but now after doing all that you said, what did I get in return?"

"Other companies are selling the products and dominating the market."

Malcolm's brows furrowed deeply hearing Nicholas' words and he tried to appease him, "There is still time to salvage. It has been only sold in Indra and some people might be smuggling but it's illegal and we are moving to cease the shipments. In the USL, you will be the only one with the sole rights to the permit."

A brief silence lingered for a moment and what followed next was a loud burst.

"What the fuck are you saying? Do you even know what's going under your ass? Pears has teamed up with one of the companies from Indra and has already started selling the cure."

Malcolm's eyes widened and he turned to look at his chief secretary as though asking: When did all this happen? Your next read awaits at empire

"Really?"

"Of course it's real! You need to get your act together and send in your people. You are a damned President of the United Sovereign League, for god sake… Damn… How can you be so muddle-headed and an idiot."

Only then did Malcolm realize that something had gone terribly wrong.

But before he could say anything further, the line went dead. He stared at the phone in stunned silence, his mind racing. For the first time in years, Malcolm Stokes, the unshakable President of the United Sovereign League, felt a cold grip of doubt creep into his thoughts.

Nicholas's accusations echoed in his head. "You didn't give me the permit to operate and asked to stay down until the time comes but now what did I get for that?"