Top floor of the Tiangong Group headquarters.
"Han Jun," Bai Yue said calmly, looking at the man whose eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, "take 150 million US dollars. Also, take a few days off. Go home, rest properly, and spend time with your wife and children."
Han Jun froze for a moment, then nodded heavily.
Bai Yue's gaze shifted to the others.
"You two will jointly draft a reward plan for the headquarters and the mining subsidiary—those with outstanding contributions will be rewarded separately. All remaining employees at headquarters and the mining company will receive three months' salary as a bonus. Other subsidiaries and the research institute will receive one month's salary."
He paused, then looked at the remaining three people in the room.
"Envious?" Bai Yue asked lightly. "It's useless to envy. Results speak for themselves. I've already given you conditions the outside world can't even imagine. If you still can't produce results under these circumstances, then there's nothing I can do."
No one refuted him.
Because it was true.
Take Weidu Precision, the precision instrument processing company, for example. Every piece of core equipment in its early stages had been personally created by Bai Yue. Their accuracy already exceeded the technological ceiling of this era. Even now, Su Zhenhong, the person in charge, had not yet found the upper limit of these machines—by his estimation, they were already approaching atomic-scale precision.
More terrifying still was that these devices were fully automated.
As long as a design was uploaded and sufficient raw materials were supplied, the machines could complete production autonomously—no human interference required.
During this period, Su Zhenhong had gathered elite talents from across the country to form a development team. Using these devices as templates, they were designing Weidu Precision's first flagship product.
Only those directly involved understood how disruptive this product would be.
Once launched, it would overturn the entire mechanical processing industry and rewrite existing standards from the ground up.
Thinking of this, Su Zhenhong felt no envy toward Huang Yuanmei and Han Jun's rewards—only pressure.
They had simply joined Bai Yue earlier.
That head start allowed them to produce tangible results sooner.
When Weidu Precision's product was released, Su Zhenhong was confident the impact would not be weaker than the London nickel battle.
Li Zhaobin, in charge of the energy subsidiary, felt the same. Ambition burned quietly in his chest.
Even Professor Zheng Qiang, head of the research institute, could not help but feel a trace of envy.
Bai Yue gave too much.
But envy was envy—he also understood reality.
The research institute's role was to explore technology and theory, not short-term profit. Producing research capable of generating astronomical revenue was inherently difficult.
That said, the institute's status within Tiangong Group was extraordinary.
At present, it was divided into two branches: the Theoretical Research Institute and the Applied Research Institute.
The theoretical side consisted of only three or four people, all specializing in materials science. Their current task was to reverse-engineer the formation principles of Tiangong Group's existing materials—materials that already defied conventional understanding.
The applied branch, on the other hand, executed research directives issued by the group. In their spare time, they were also encouraged to pursue independent research projects, provided they submitted proposals in advance.
Crucially, these directives were not issued by laymen commanding experts.
Every instruction had been personally reviewed—or even designed—by Bai Yue, and had already been validated in the Devouring Starry Sky Universe.
As long as they followed the path, results were inevitable.
And during the process, researchers learned at a terrifying pace. Entirely new domains unfolded before them—areas humanity had never set foot in.
Beyond knowledge and growth, there was another incentive.
Bai Yue was never stingy.
According to the institute's regulations, as long as normal research tasks were not delayed, researchers could pursue personal projects. If the results were deemed valuable and adopted by Tiangong Group, the inventor would permanently receive 30% of the profits generated by that technology.
Permanent.
Many researchers elsewhere received only a one-time bonus for breakthroughs they devoted years to.
Even holding a patent was often meaningless without massive follow-up investment.
Here, they only needed to research.
Tiangong Group would handle everything else.
After concluding company affairs, Bai Yue took a special elevator directly to the underground parking lot.
A man in a suit, around thirty years old, approached quickly.
"Boss."
"Is everything ready?" Bai Yue asked as he walked.
"Everything's arranged. If anything's missing after you arrive, I'll take care of it immediately."
The man was Li Wenhui, Bai Yue's private secretary, responsible for handling daily logistics.
Previously, Bai Yue had instructed him to find a quiet residence with a good environment.
Li Wenhui had searched extensively and found a location Bai Yue immediately approved. The property had been purchased, renovated, and left to ventilate for over a month.
Today was moving day.
His previous residence was no longer suitable.
They stopped beside a Rolls-Royce Cullinan. A broad-shouldered man stood by the door—Wang Hu, Bai Yue's driver and bodyguard.
The door opened.
Bai Yue entered without ceremony.
The vehicle glided smoothly onto the road.
His new home was located within Shilihetan Wetland Park, Huaxi District, Zhucheng City—fresh air, flowing water, lush greenery.
Before purchase, it had been a holiday resort.
Now, after extensive renovation, it had become his private estate.
This violated no regulations.
The park itself was public, and many private residences remained within its boundaries. The resort had always been privately owned.
The Cullinan slowed after entering the park. Tourists strolled nearby, some cycling, some walking in pairs.
Driving deeper into the valley, the noise faded.
At the gate, security opened access without delay.
The estate lay nestled between mountains on three sides, with a single vehicle entrance.
After parking, Bai Yue stepped out and surveyed his surroundings.
Antique architecture blended seamlessly with nature. Birds called softly. The breeze carried the scent of grass and flowers.
"Not bad."
Li Wenhui finally relaxed.
He had poured everything into this task.
For a man supporting both elderly parents and young children, he could not afford mistakes.
They toured the estate for over half an hour before arriving at the library, located at the deepest point of the valley.
This building had been specifically requested by Bai Yue.
For storing ancient texts.
Over the past year, Bai Yue had uncovered increasing evidence that Earth once possessed a cultivation civilization.
Most online "cultivation manuals" were fake.
But some were real—fragmentary, incomplete, stripped of context.
After a year of physical strengthening, Bai Yue's body had reached a terrifying level. Pure strength alone rivaled a Planetary-level powerhouse from the Devouring Starry Sky Universe.
Yet he still could not sense higher-order Heaven-and-Earth energy.
From this, he reached a conclusion:
Either this universe lacked extraordinary energy—
Or physical strength alone was insufficient to perceive it.
Even energy created via the Dao Fruit rapidly became inert here, dissipating due to differing rules.
Thus, genetic energy cultivation methods were useless.
Bai Yue could only work from local foundations.
Filtering through endless falsehoods, comparing religious classics, cross-verifying fragments—he finally grasped the underlying logic.
All paths converged on one concept.
Innate Original Qi.
Also called Primordial Ancestral Qi.
The original essence that gave birth to Heaven, Earth, humanity, and all things.
Every genuine cultivation system began here.
The first step was always the same: sense one's own Innate Original Qi.
The classics repeated it endlessly:
Gain Innate Qi—life.
Lose Innate Qi—death.
At birth, acquired consciousness dominates. The body connects outward. Innate Qi sinks deeper, slowly dissipating with time.
When it is exhausted, life ends.
No amount of external energy can stop aging or death.
Cultivation, at its core, is simple.
Find Innate Qi.
Guide it.
Strengthen it.
Let it grow and transform.
That is cultivation.
And methods for using it—supernatural powers, talismans, miracles—
They are merely applications of Qi.
Wind and thunder, lightning and rain, talismans and spells—
All stem from this source.
Bai Yue finally understood.
The door had always been here.
He had just been standing on the wrong side.
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