Chapter Sixty-Two: I Have Finished Speaking—Who Approves, Who Objects

A dozen days later, the board meeting was convened. Tony arrived early at the conference room, dragged a lounge chair over to the door, sprawled across it with his legs crossed, and watched as each director entered.

"Tony, get up now. This is a formal occasion; you should be a bit more proper and show some respect to the directors," Stan said loudly, a smile appearing on his face as he saw Tony lounging.

"It's fine, it's fine. We understand. Talent can be tolerated, and besides, he's still young," remarked an older director in a calm tone. His words seemed to offer an explanation for Tony's behavior, but there was a hint of sarcasm, as if implying Tony was still immature like a child.

Normally, Tony would have retorted so sharply that the director would be left speechless, but today he remained composed, quietly waiting for all the directors to take their seats.

"Tony, if you have any agenda items, speak up. Everyone’s busy. I told you, let me see your proposals in advance so I can help organize them," Stan continued with a smile.

Tony rolled over, got up from the lounge chair, yawned, and walked behind the microphone.

"First, the international weapons design and manufacturing division must be shut down. I don’t want to see anyone secretly dragging their feet on the withdrawal anymore."

Stan frowned slightly. Something was off—Tony wasn’t acting as usual. Stan had spoken to him twice, but Tony hadn’t responded, and it seemed Tony was deliberately ignoring him.

With that realization, Stan glanced at someone across the table.

"Tony Stark, you have no authority to unilaterally close a major division. Such a closure will severely impact the company and all shareholders’ interests. We must be responsible to everyone, not just your whims. Just because you’ve suffered a little—" a director rattled off a long tirade.

Tony raised his right hand, signaling the director to silence, then swept his gaze across the room. "Second, I propose the establishment of a new energy division, led by me."

With that, Tony revealed the miniature reactor in his chest. "This reactor, at this size, can deliver three billion joules per second, sustaining peak output for up to fifteen minutes. Any objections?"

Sweat began to bead on Stan’s forehead. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he felt a shadow of Howard Stark in Tony, and the creation of this energy division would certainly threaten his own control over the company.

Everyone in the room fell silent. They were all highly educated and understood what an instantaneous output of three billion joules per second meant. Besides, Tony was the type who, if he unveiled one invention, was undoubtedly hiding something even more advanced.

From this perspective, the new energy division seemed more than capable of compensating for the loss from shutting down the international weapons division—and could even offer Stark Industries a tremendous advantage for lateral expansion.

Stan sensed trouble; the institutional representatives and major shareholders he had courted seemed ready to defect. He hurried to speak up. "Tony, the establishment of such a division is indeed good news, but it’s not that simple. We need more—"

As Stan spoke, Tony walked over, patted him on the shoulder, then looked at the others. "I’ve said my piece. Who’s in favor, who’s opposed?"

Stan squinted. It was no illusion—after just half a month, he truly saw Howard’s shadow in Tony.

"If no one objects, I’ll take it as approval. Pepper will send the relevant data to you. That’s all for today’s meeting. You may leave."

Tony said this, but when no one moved, he was the first to stride out of the conference room.

He had only taken a few steps when Stan caught up from behind.

"Tony, I have no objection to handing the new division over to you—it’s certainly the best outcome. But management is always complicated, and I worry you’ll spend too much time on it. So let me suggest some managers for you."

"Since the international weapons division is being shut down, why not transfer its entire management over?"

While Stan spoke, Tony didn’t even turn his head. Only when he reached the elevator did he finally turn around.

Tony and Stan, whose face radiated benevolence, locked eyes, and suddenly Tony laughed. "Mr. Stan, do you know the name of this place?"

Stan opened his mouth, trying to defend himself.

"This place has been Stark since its inception—not Obadiah. So mind your own business, take care of your health, and don’t end up in the hospital because of an allergy before you finish your plans."

Tony entered the elevator, descending all the way, while Stan kept the expression of a misunderstood man.

Once they could no longer see each other, Stan abruptly shifted to a grim, dark-faced demeanor, picked up the phone, and dialed out.

"Agree to all that guy’s demands. I want him hired today."

Ding—the elevator reached its floor. At that moment, the aura Tony had displayed dissipated instantly. He had spent hours studying his father’s videos yesterday to mimic that persona. Now, without an audience, there was no need to act anymore.

"Tony, how did it go? Did the agenda pass?" Pepper hurried to greet him.

"Don’t you trust your boss’s capabilities? It passed smoothly. From now on, start looking for suitable staff." Tony paused in front of Pepper, turned, and met her gaze. "Only one requirement—the candidates must have no ties to Stan. Understood?"

Pepper’s eyes sparkled. Today, she realized that Tony wasn’t incapable of running a company or suppressing a rival. He simply hadn’t bothered before.

"Understood. But it’s impossible for us to find suitable unemployed candidates so quickly," Pepper replied. Although Tony said there was only one requirement, she couldn’t just hire anyone—doing so would invite criticism and prompt replacements.

"Then poach people. From every research institute, poach researchers or management—whoever meets the requirements, just throw money at them!" Tony declared boldly. There was no point letting wealth go unused. If Stan succeeded this time, Tony might not retain his financial power in the future.

Research institutes—Pepper blinked, recalling a man whose temperament resembled Tony’s: Jess.

"Tony, have you heard of Hex Research Institute?" Pepper asked.

"Never heard of it. Must be a small, obscure place. Don’t worry about the size—just bring the people over first. When things are settled, I’ll dismiss whoever needs to go," Tony replied, setting the tone.