Chapter 30

For Little Godzilla, Ye Nan had always treated him like a pet, and for some reason, Little Godzilla was extremely attached to Ye Nan—if Ye Nan was absent, even Dr. Ma Xiu would sometimes provoke his violent outbursts, so generally, Little Godzilla was treated like any ordinary monster: locked away.

Ye Nan did not want Little Godzilla to develop a taste for humans; he wanted Little Godzilla, like himself, to retain basic human morality even while keeping his ferocity—namely, not to eat people.

Come to think of it, Ye Nan found himself ridiculous: demanding a monster kill but not eat humans, yet he stubbornly insisted on this, so he often took Little Godzilla to scenes of death; whenever he spotted signs of Little Godzilla wanting to eat a human, he would immediately scold him, rage at him, even beat him with fists and kicks.

Afterward, Little Godzilla developed the habit of not eating humans, but Ye Nan had never dared let him face corpses alone—this time was his first such trial, and unexpectedly, Little Godzilla had restrained his wild instincts.

“Little Godzilla, you did well.” Ye Nan gestured, and Little Godzilla immediately flew down, pouncing onto Ye Nan’s body, letting Ye Nan hug him tightly, thoroughly enjoying it.

Ye Nan stroked Little Godzilla’s hard scales, one by one; from the touch, he knew the scales were extremely tough—even his dagger could not scratch them at all, and he even wondered whether a missile could pierce them. From Dr. Ma Xiu, he learned that unlike his mother and siblings, Little Godzilla was still mutating, growing even stronger.

To make Little Godzilla stronger, Dr. Ma Xiu injected him with a cell activator—a substance that accelerates cell division—and likewise, it accelerated Little Godzilla’s mutation, hastening his maturation.

“Ye Nan, I have something I’d like to discuss with you,” Hammond said, glancing at Ellie and Jessica, sounding uneasy—he wanted to temporarily send them away, but right now he was the one begging for help, and some things were hard to say outright.

Fortunately, Ellie was clever; she said directly: “I need to go outside for a walk—I was terrified yesterday.”

“Jessica, go get me a glass of water… no, just leave for now.” Ye Nan had wanted Jessica to fetch water, but feared she wouldn’t understand his hint, so he said it plainly.

"Why? I'm not leaving," Jessica sat perfectly still, unmoving as a mountain.

“I need to discuss something private. Please, just step out for now. When I’m done, I’ll call you back—you can stay as long as you like afterward,” Ye Nan coaxed Jessica.

Jessica reluctantly muttered, “Oh,” then dragged her feet out the door.

“Dr. Hammond, now that no one’s here, you can speak freely,” Ye Nan said, smiling at Hammond, who leaned on his cane.

This was his usual negotiation tactic: make the other party feel he was easy to manipulate, then set a few traps—but he wasn’t deliberately trying to trick Hammond into them; it was unintentional.

“Mr. Ye Nan, you know Grant came to me to assess safety concerns. Now he’s dead, several workers are dead—investors will surely lose confidence in me,” Hammond said obliquely.

“Dr. Hammond, let’s be direct. We’ve been through hardship together—this roundabout talk gives me a headache. You know I just woke up; my head is still foggy,” Ye Nan said, urging Hammond to speak plainly.

Hammond paused, then realized—he’d been too sly. “Indeed, I’ve grown too cunning. Mr. Ye Nan, what I mean is… I’d like you to invest in Jurassic Park.”

Ye Nan fell silent. Investing in Jurassic Park didn’t seem like a losing proposition—it was genuinely innovative, attracting global tourists with prehistoric creatures would be no problem.

But safety was a fatal flaw: storms from the sea, the carnivorous dinosaurs Hammond created—all were security risks. If any erupted, not only would global tourists stay away, but the compensation costs could bankrupt him.

Hammond watched Ye Nan thinking, his heart pounding—he was already on the brink of bankruptcy. He’d poured all his own money in, and squandered most of the investors’ funds. If Jurassic Park failed to turn a profit, not just he, but every investor would lose everything.

In that case, he’d have no chance of recovery. But if he could convince Ye Nan, investor confidence would surge; with Ye Nan’s business connections in America, he could attract even more investors, making Jurassic Park truly perfect.

His success or failure now rested entirely in the hands of this boy.

After thinking, Ye Nan finally voiced his thoughts, choosing to speak openly with Hammond: “Jurassic Park has great potential and a bright future—I won’t deny that. If it truly goes global, surpassing Disneyland is no problem.”

Disneyland cost hundreds of millions of dollars, employed over two thousand workers, and welcomed five million visitors annually—it was the world’s largest amusement park. Jurassic Park, by contrast, leveraged the Jurassic era as its selling point, far exceeding Disneyland—but its inherent limitations turned it into a playground for the wealthy.

Of course, Disneyland had many branches worldwide, while Jurassic Park, due to its uniqueness, couldn’t expand globally—but even if limited to just one location, turning a profit of several billion dollars was no issue.

“But safety remains a sword of Damocles hanging over Jurassic Park. Until this problem is solved, it will never earn the trust of global billionaires to visit boldly.”