24

Yuri Orlov.

In his early years, Yuri Orlov was known as the King of War, infamous throughout the smuggling underworld. He traveled across war-torn countries, reselling weapons and amassing a fortune. When the true kingpin of the criminal world fell, Orlov shifted gears, leaving behind his life as a supplier of war and transforming himself into a legitimate weapons developer. He founded his own research and development company, producing and selling arms under his own brand.

Ten years ago, he and John's father became partners, founding Taran Industries. Though the company could not match Stark Industries in sheer scale, it had built a loyal customer base and secured steady military contracts. Now, Taran was valued at several billion—a true money-making machine.

When Yuri Orlov saw John enter the conference room, his confident smile faltered for a moment. He studied John's face, noting the resemblance to Mrs. Wick. "Are you… John?" he asked, peering closer. "I have never seen you in person. Honestly, if I hadn't seen the photo your father keeps on his desk, I would not have recognized you."

"How do you take care of yourself? I almost thought you were a high school student," Orlov remarked, settling naturally into the seat beside John. Only after he sat did the other executives dare to take their seats.

John observed this with a small, knowing smile. "This isn't the first time I've heard your name, Mr. Orlov."

Orlov laughed, "I suppose Watson mentioned me often—just as he always talks about his son."

"No," John replied, shaking his head, "it's my mother who talks about you."

The brightness in Orlov's expression faded instantly.

"That incident in 1999—"

"Stop!" Orlov's eyelids twitched, and he quickly cut John off. He glanced around, then stood and closed the blinds in the conference room. After making sure no one else was listening, he leaned in and whispered, "Your mother didn't come with you, did she?"

It was clear Orlov did not know that John's parents were missing. John kept his expression neutral. "I came with them."

Only then did Orlov notice the two strangers among the senior management. He could not help but feel a chill—his fear of Mrs. Wick was legendary. The life-and-death bond between him and Watson Wick, after all, had been forged by Mrs. Wick herself.

Trying to regain his composure, Orlov extended his hand to Ivan. "Yuri Orlov."

Ivan gave him a cursory glance and shook his hand, but his look made it clear he did not take the King of War seriously. Orlov, a little confused, turned to Ferdinand.

Ferdinand, both flattered and nervous, shook Orlov's hand with both of his. "Ferdinand Pierce, the boss's driver."

Orlov's mood improved slightly.

He sat down again, laced his fingers on the table, and got straight to the point. "I heard you called a meeting, John?"

"Yes, Mr. Orlov." John glanced at the executives, and they immediately lowered their heads.

"You can say anything in front of me," Orlov said with a grin. "I founded this company with your father. I know every inch of it."

This was a clear demonstration of authority—a reminder that the King of War would not bow to a child. When he started selling—well, selling guns—John had not even been born. If not for Watson's sake, Orlov would have thrown John out on the spot.

"Really?" John replied, meeting his gaze. "Can I make Taran Industries as great as Stark Industries?"

"Don't be ridiculous, John," Orlov scoffed. He did not take the young man's words seriously at all. Even before Tony Stark's new energy revolution, Taran could not compete with Stark Industries. That was a true behemoth.

"Do you really think so?" John leaned back, his tone calm. "This is a rare opportunity."

"You'll have to impress me," Orlov replied. "If you can."

"No one has trouble with money, Orlov." John gestured to Ivan. "From now on, Ivan will serve as Taran Industries' technical consultant. He will have full authority over the entire Research and Development Department."

"Are you kidding me?" Orlov frowned. "You just brought a stranger into the conference room and announced this? Do you think this is a children's playhouse?"

He glared at John, his voice low and dangerous. "If you were not Watson's son, I would have thrown you out already."

John smiled, unfazed. "I am not joking. This is the authority I have."

"That's your father's authority!" Orlov roared. "Your father and I didn't build this company for you to play games!"

"Come here, Orlov," John said, his voice calm and steady, not rising to the provocation.

Orlov took a deep breath, reminding himself again and again whose son this was, but his posture remained rigid.

John reached toward Ivan, who understood immediately. Ivan pulled a small, simple box from his pocket.

"The road to glory lies within," Ivan said.

He placed the box on the table and pushed it toward Orlov. John motioned for him to open it.

Orlov dismissed it at first, flicking the lid open with a finger. Instantly, blue light spilled out, bathing his face in its glow. He stared, transfixed, unable to move.

Three seconds later, he slammed the lid shut and barked at the stunned senior executives, "Everyone out!"

The managers, who had been watching with curiosity, exchanged glances and quickly left the room.

When the door closed, Orlov clutched the box and whispered, "Where did you get this reactor?"

"Don't tell me you kidnapped Tony Stark. I just saw him on stage accepting an award."

Orlov's mind raced. Had John broken into Stark's house and stolen something?

"Why, Stark?" John chuckled. "Can't you make it yourself?"

"Bullshit!" Orlov snapped. "That thing is only—wait…"

A realization dawned on him. He turned to Ivan, studying him closely. "Ivan Vanko?"

Ivan looked away, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Orlov's voice was incredulous. The news had reported Ivan Vanko's death after the Iron Soldier self-destructed. Yet here he was, alive and in the room.

"You said Taran Industries will become as great as Stark Industries—is that true?" Orlov's attitude shifted completely.

"Are you not afraid his identity will be exposed and Iron Man will come after you?" John toyed with his ring, his tone casual. "That's Iron Man."

"Oh my god, damn Iron Man," Orlov said, his demeanor suddenly warm and avuncular. "Ivan Vanko is dead, right?"

Ivan watched this transformation with silent amusement. John had been right: rich men would do anything for money.

Orlov's mood swung wildly. He threw an arm around John's shoulders. "Your father and I are best friends. He still holds shares in this company."

A super-genius who could build a reactor—Orlov would have to be insane to turn him away. "I can give Ivan full control of R&D, even shares, if he joins Taran Industries as a technical consultant."

Orlov cradled the reactor box as if it were a treasure chest.

"That's just the beginning," John said, snapping his fingers. The box vanished from Orlov's hands and appeared in John's. With a casual toss, he sent the reactor into Ferdinand's arms, startling the driver.

"And this is the real future." John placed a set of purple crystal flakes on the table—the same magic crystal he had used to replace Iron Man's arc reactor.

John turned to Ivan. "Do you have a solution for palladium poisoning?"

Ivan fell silent. Even if he could build a reactor, he had never found a substitute for palladium. When John tossed the reactor aside, Ivan felt a pang of anger. That device was not perfect, but it was his life's work.

"There is no substitute," Ivan admitted. "Wearing a reactor is a slow death. I never expected to survive my fight with Iron Man."

"This works," John said, smiling. "I have tested it myself. It is a perfect, stable reactor with no side effects."

Ivan, who had come only for revenge, stood up abruptly. "How can you guarantee that?"

"Because I tried it in Tony Stark's reactor. It can replace any element," John said with a shrug.

Orlov was stunned. "Wait—any element? What is this, magic?"

He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

"So, Orlov, are you still going to shut me out?" John asked, never leaving his seat.

Orlov's face changed. If John was telling the truth, then Taran Industries could soon rival Stark Industries. An arms company moving into the energy sector?

"I need to think about it," Orlov said.

"Time waits for no one." John set a pocket watch on the table. "Three minutes."

Without realizing it, Orlov had ceded control of the meeting to John. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the watch.

Should he take the risk or stick with the status quo?

"Stop the damn pocket watch!" Orlov shouted, frustrated.

John remained calm. "Thirty seconds left, Orlov."

"I know, I know—fine! I agree!" Orlov finally relented. He hurried to John's side, hand outstretched. "Let's make this deal."

"To trade, you need chips," John said, picking up the pocket watch, making no move to shake hands.

Orlov, no fool, asked, "What do you want?"

"It's not for me. It's for my father," John replied, setting the watch down again, the ticking echoing in the quiet room.

"He and I are good friends!"

"My mother mentioned 1999—"

"I promise! That's all I promise!" Orlov said quickly, not wanting to risk Mrs. Wick's wrath.

He would now put all his strength behind the Wick family. If not for the lure of the reactor and the magic crystal, he might never have made up his mind.

John stood with a smile and finally offered his hand. "This is a trade of equal value, Orlov."

"You will not even call me Uncle Orlov?" Orlov grumbled.

"Maybe when you are strong enough. But for now, there is one thing you must do."

Orlov frowned. "What is it?"

John placed his phone on the table, showing Orlov the information on Hammer Industries' looming crisis.

"Acquire it," John said.