Chapter 107: Technology Delivered to Your Doorstep

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Obadiah followed Zala into the tent, his eyes scanning the space before settling on a table.

On the table sat a pile of blueprints and a laptop—nothing else of interest.

Obadiah casually pulled out a chair and leaned back, a smug expression on his face as if waiting to hear some ridiculous story.

Zala paid no attention to the arrogance. He walked over to the laptop, opened a video, and placed it in front of Obadiah.

The footage was nothing other than Tony Stark building the Mark I armor in the cave and later testing its firepower at the entrance.

Obadiah picked up the blueprints as he watched the video, eyes widening in disbelief.

"He used this to escape?"

"No... wait, I remember now—he was rescued by Smith Doyle."

He also noticed that Stark wasn't targeting anyone during the weapons test. Clearly, by that time, Zala's men had already been wiped out.

As the video continued, Obadiah spotted a familiar face—Smith Doyle, the man who'd appeared at the charity gala and supposedly rescued Tony.

Zala paused the video and pointed at the screen.

"This man. Is he Smith Doyle? Who is he?"

Obadiah didn't hide anything.

"That's him. According to Tony, he was the one who got him out. Leader of some underground faction... Assassin League or Brotherhood or something like that."

Zala committed the name and title to memory. That debt of blood would not go unpaid—his leader wouldn't stay silent forever.

Then Zala pointed at the blueprints in Obadiah's hands.

"What you're holding is just the draft. Stark has since perfected the design."

"It was him who attacked Mikula today. That suit of his—it's a goddamn ultimate weapon."

Obadiah's thoughts flashed to the military press conference he'd seen earlier. Hearing that Stark now possessed a far more advanced version only deepened his concern.

Zala continued, now pouring himself a drink as he moved to the sofa.

"Give me a few dozen of those ultimate weapons, and I could rule all of Asia."

"And you—you could own his kingdom."

By kingdom, he meant Stark Industries.

He raised his glass, smiling. "If we keep working together, I'll give you the blueprints and this video as a gift."

Obadiah spread out the papers, revealing the full schematic of the Mark I armor. He studied the hollow sections and the annotations, deep in thought.

But Zala didn't realize that, in Obadiah's eyes, he was nothing more than a blunt instrument—a thug who couldn't even carry out an assassination properly. Work with him? Please.

Zala raised his glass again, saying,

"In return, I want an army of Iron Men."

Obadiah walked over with a pleasant smile, one hand on Zala's shoulder, the other accepting the drink.

The next moment, a low-frequency hum buzzed out from a device the size of an MP3 player in his hand. Zala's body froze, paralyzed.

"This is the only gift you're getting."

Obadiah took a sip from the glass and shut off the device.

"You want tech? That's always your kind's weakness."

Zala's eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging with rage and pain, but Obadiah just calmly removed his earpiece.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine in fifteen minutes."

"Your real problem comes after that."

With that, he turned and walked out of the tent.

Outside, Zala's men had already been silently subdued by Obadiah's bodyguards. Their weapons confiscated, they knelt on the ground in surrender.

Obadiah glanced around and issued orders:

"Pack up the laptop and all the blueprints. Load them in the truck."

"And clean up the battlefield."

As he spoke, gunfire erupted behind him.

Sitting in the car, Obadiah pulled out his phone.

"Set up Sector 16 under the Arc Reactor project. Full confidentiality."

"Get me the best engineers. I want a prototype—fast."

---

The Next Day

Smith Doyle stirred awake in bed. He turned to see Fox sleeping beside him and smacked her on the butt.

"Smack!"

"Time to get up, lazybones."

Fox grabbed Little Smith with a grin.

"Seems like you're the one who woke up excited."

She pounced on him, locking him in a deep kiss before mounting him for a second round of intense "battle."

---

After what felt like a ten-thousand-word chapter, Smith finally got a shower, dried off, and dressed. As Fox stepped out in a towel, he asked:

"Two things. How's the buyback of Stark Industries shares going?"

Fox thought for a moment.

"Ever since you showed up at Tony's charity gala, we've been steadily buying in. We've already got more than enough to cover the previous loans, with room to spare."

Smith nodded. Good. Soon, Tony would announce to the world that he was Iron Man.

"Second thing."

"Bulma's combat power detector is ready for mass production. You'll need to form a company to launch and sell the product."

"Hmm…"

"As for the name…"

Smith pondered—Frieza's Galactic Real Estate Inc.? Capsule Corporation?

The former manufactured scouters; the latter was what Bulma recreated.

Out of respect for Bulma's work, Smith made his decision.

"Let's call it Capsule Corporation."

Fox raised an eyebrow.

"Why that name? Doesn't seem related. What's wrong with Smith Industries? Or Doyle Industries?"

To her, building a company named after him—like Howard Stark did—made perfect sense.

Smith was briefly tempted, but shook his head.

"No, it'll be Capsule Corporation. You'll understand the name later."

Once Bulma perfected the capsule tech, the whole world—no, the entire universe—would know the company's greatness.

Fox shrugged.

"You're the boss. Your call."

But in that moment, her towel slipped.

Smith swooped in, wrapped an arm around her waist, and kissed her hard.

"Oh god—not again…"

"I can't...!"

---

—End of chapter—

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