Swatting a mosquito to death

A week later.

Mid-Mountain Villa, another Friday.

When Li Qingming once again stepped into Jian Fei's underground workshop, it was noticeably emptier than before.

A dozen black boxes that used to contain Matrices were piled in the corner, and the remaining few seemed to be on the brink of depletion.

What could be emptier than these void boxes was probably Jian Fei's heart.

At this moment, he stood motionlessly by the control panel, watching Li Qingming open the remaining few black boxes in search of a suitable Matrix; Jian Fei had entered a meditative state.

No one knew how he had survived these seven days.

Seven days, seven times leveraging, and even a tycoon like him had now reached the brink of a margin call.

Each time he had thought it was merely a technical adjustment, that the man's strength would have reached its limit, soon to be exhausted, and he himself would be just about to buy at the bottom.