Chapter 99: Vyland Is the Most Valuable Commodity

In Elizabeth’s fantasy, things shouldn’t have been this way.

At the very least, the great “Creator” shouldn’t have looked like a guilty student, bowing low, beaming with sycophantic flattery.

Yes, exactly!

That sycophantic, groveling expression!

Why could Elizabeth be so certain?

The reason was simple: when she and her boyfriend went to seek investment from Vyland, their faces had looked exactly like the “Creator’s”!

God only knew what kind of psychological “trauma” they’d endured in those mere Shiji minutes.

As for the hopeful Vyland, he had truly experienced what “despair” meant.

He had found the “Creator,” but the reality was nothing like he’d imagined.

But fortunately, Vyland had spent decades navigating the world—he instantly understood the “alien lifeform’s” intent, and thus calmed down.

Isn’t this just about pledging allegiance?

No problem at all! Absolutely no problem!

As long as he could extend his life, allegiance meant nothing—after all, he could always reconsider later.

This brings us to the flexible bottom line of merchants—Vyland’s was especially flexible; he was nearly at death’s door, so not only was pledging allegiance to an alien lifeform no issue, even selling out humanity wouldn’t have given him pause.

“By the way, what’s the name of this ship?”

Alvin caressed the pilot’s seat, his eyes brimming with delight.

Though initially hard to accept, the moment he realized this vessel would soon be his, it suddenly became much more pleasing to the eye.

“Its name is ‘Lord of the World.’”

Vylges seemed to have gradually accepted his fate as a “prisoner of war,” and enthusiastically began explaining the spaceship’s various functions to Alvin.

As a standard small spacecraft of the “Engineer” race, its shape was a U-shaped semi-enclosed ring, flat overall, with a diameter of about three hundred meters.

The entire ship was grown through biological gene modification; in human terms, it was essentially “grown from a young age,” like cultivating a plant—this too was a manifestation of the “Engineers’” biotechnology.

Its interior housed a small faster-than-light engine, enabling travel through space at several times the speed of light.

The hull hardness of the Lord of the World far exceeded the metal of Vyland Corporation’s ships; in the movie, when they collided, human ships exploded, while the Lord of the World merely crashed.

Later, the female lead and David piloted the “Lord of the World” toward the “Engineers’” homeworld, “Paradise Star.”

Thus, the Lord of the World, as a spacecraft, was undoubtedly the greatest haul so far.

“If you wish, I can gift you the Lord of the World.”

Vylges, true to his “Engineer” nature, was as sharp-witted as any human: “Of course, you must allow me to first pilot the Lord of the World back to ‘Paradise Star.’”

In truth, a mere small spacecraft meant nothing to Vylges.

As long as he returned to Paradise Star, if nothing went wrong, there should still be a “mother-ship-class” spacecraft there—its size a hundred times that of the “Lord of the World.”

Hovering above Paradise Star was a spacecraft larger than the Lord of the World.

But unfortunately, Vylges didn’t know that Alvin, having watched the movie and knowing the details, had already known about the massive mother-ship docked at the ritual plaza on Paradise Star.

Although the mother-ship was vastly larger than the Lord of the World, it lacked any weaponry and served only as a docking “port.”

Thus, Alvin had little interest in that mother-ship, and besides, if he pushed them too hard, it wouldn’t be worth it.

“Fine, I permit you to pilot my ship back to Paradise Star.”

Alvin nodded slightly, agreeing to Vylges’ proposal, but added: “Of course, I will accompany you to Paradise Star. You have no objections, do you?”

“No objections.”

Vylges had grown accustomed to it—and besides, what right did he have to object?

“By the way, there’s something you need to help me with.” Alvin looked at him warmly, speaking in the Engineers’ language: “I need a method to control other organisms.”

Vylges wasn’t surprised at all—he found it perfectly reasonable: “Of course. Among our Engineer race, this technology is simple: just implant a nanobiological agent to fully control the target’s neural system. If you wish, I can give it to you right now.”

No wonder they were a specialized biological offshoot race—this thing was just handed over like that?

“When we get back, give one to that old man.”

Alvin told Vylges.

“No problem.”

Vylges nodded.

Thus, the open conspiracy was completed.

“Alright, we’ll rest one day on LV-223, then depart for Paradise Star.”

Alvin swiftly laid out his plan and turned to the others: “Since everything’s been resolved, everyone should return to the ship. I have some matters to discuss with Mr. Vyland.”

“It’s my honor, Mr. Alvin.”

Vyland secretly rejoiced—he’d known he was right all along.

Yet when Alvin’s group returned to the Prometheus with the clearly non-human Vylges, everyone—including Captain Haneck, his crew, and even his illegitimate daughter Vicks—showed signs of terror and adamantly refused to open the airlock.

Of course, this minor issue vanished the moment Alvin blasted the airlock open with a single shot; Vicks and the others immediately displayed humanity’s signature ability to switch expressions, warmly welcoming them.

Elizabeth, suffering from extensive burns, had been placed in an automated medical bay.

Ford, the biologist, wore a grim expression as he cradled the jar of liquid-nitrogen-frozen “xenomorph embryo,” responsible for caring for the “thing” inside.

The only one who seemed slightly displeased was Vylges.

His height made him constantly bump his head walking through the ship; watching the chattering humans around him, he grew increasingly irritated, nearly wanting to crush their skulls.

Vyland had returned to his wheelchair and joined Alvin in a secret compartment.

“Sir, if you can extend my life, I will give you everything!”

As soon as he entered, Vyland couldn’t wait—he stared at Alvin with feverish intensity.

He had little time left; this mission had yielded nothing. If there was no progress soon, he’d soon be hanging on a wall.

“For example?”

Alvin held his lifeline now—he had no need to rush.

“I can transfer all assets of Vyland Corporation to you!” Vyland said this not out of stupidity, but because he was clever.

Vyland-Tanggu Corporation was vast, spanning countless industries—even if handed to aliens, they’d still need him to manage it.

“I don’t need your company.”

Alvin shook his head. Mining, industry—none of it held any meaning for him now.

“What about biomimetic technology?”

Vyland seemed to have made up his mind, gritting his teeth: “Biomimetic technology is my life’s greatest achievement. I will give you the complete technology in exchange for a method to extend my life. Is that acceptable?”

“Not enough.”

Alvin continued shaking his head.

It was like a gambler at the table holding the winning hand—he must squeeze every last ounce of value from his opponent!

“Faster-than-light engines! Atmospheric modification technology! Whatever you want—I’ll give it all to you!”

At this moment, Vyland resembled a gambler blinded by loss, willing to sacrifice everything just to extend his life.

Finally, Alvin seemed moved. He looked at Vyland’s flushed face and smiled faintly: “Actually, what I value most isn’t those technologies—it’s you. Peter Vyland. You are the most valuable ‘commodity’ of all.”

“I pledge my loyalty to you, Mr. Alvin.”

Vyland smiled too, for he knew that after those words, the alien wouldn’t kill him.

As the alien had said, Peter Vyland, alone, had built the interstellar giant Vyland-Tanggu Corporation—he was truly the most valuable commodity!

Gentlemen, let me take a few days to rest and stockpile drafts before resuming daily ten-thousand-word updates. I humbly beg for monthly votes—barely launched, I’ve collided with a black monkey, traffic is pitifully low, and even the platform’s promotion isn’t enough. Please, gentlemen, lend me your support—I’m deeply grateful!