“We are willing!” the disciples roared in unison, their eyes burning with the fervor of new hires at a pre-IPO startup.

Sun Yi smiled, scanning the crowd. “You trust me that much? You’re willing to sign the contract before reading the scope of work? Aren’t you worried I’m sending you into a liquidation scenario?”

“I believe the Sect Leader has a vision!” one disciple shouted. “We trust the process!” another echoed.

Sun Yi nodded, satisfied. These were qualified workers—excellent human capital. In his mind, however, the calculus was colder. He wasn’t building a family; he was building a resource extraction engine. The stronger the sect, the more dividends he could skim for his own cultivation.

Heroism is a liability, he thought, suppressing a cynical smirk. I’m not some shonen protagonist rushing into danger to save the world. I’m the CEO. My job is risk management and sustainable growth. YOLO is not a valid business strategy.

Sun Yi raised his hand, silencing the plaza. “Rest assured. As your CEO, I have a fiduciary duty to protect my assets—and that means you. I do not waste talent.”

He paused for effect.

“The target for our next expansion phase is the Myriad Demon Forest.”

The silence was instantaneous. Then, the murmuring started, rising into a panic. “The Demon Forest?” “That’s a restricted zone! Even Nascent Soul cultivators don’t go there without a death wish.” “Is this a joke? He wants us to farm a Level 99 zone?”

Sun Yi watched the morale dip. The Myriad Demon Forest was a Red Ocean market—high danger, high competition from local wildlife. But high risk meant high yield.

“Are you afraid?” Sun Yi’s voice cut through the noise, amplified by his qi. “You should be. Without an edge, entering that forest is suicide. But we are not going in blind.”

He held up the Spirit Plate, the sleek surface catching the sunlight.

“This is our proprietary technology. Our competitive advantage. With this device, the Myriad Demon Forest is no longer a Forbidden Zone; it is a grocery store, and we have the only shopping list.”

The disciples focused on the device.

“This is the Spirit Plate,” Sun Yi announced, pitching it like a flagship phone release. “Real-time threat detection within a ten-kilometer radius. Resource tagging. IFF tracking. It doesn’t just show you where the monsters are; it lets you optimize your pathing to avoid them entirely. We are disrupting the ecosystem.”

“Is it really that good?” a disciple whispered. “The Patriarch used it. If it’s good enough for the Board, it’s good enough for us.”

Seeing the skepticism turning into curiosity, Sun Yi turned to Elder Jin Jue. “Operational logistics are as follows: Break the workforce into cross-functional squads. One Foundation Establishment manager and four Qi Refining associates per unit. Issue them standard survival kits—antidotes, scent masking agents, and emergency flares.”

Then, Sun Yi dropped the bombshell.

“Furthermore, unlock the Corporate Treasury. All Tier-1 and Tier-2 artifacts, talismans, and defensive gear are to be made available for immediate requisition.”

He looked Jin Jue in the eye. “Price them at 10% of standard value.”

“Ten percent?” Jin Jue nearly choked. “Sect Leader, that’s… that’s a 90% markdown! We’ll bankrupt the internal economy!”

Even Patriarch Qingxuan looked at Sun Yi as if he had lost his mind.

Sun Yi lowered his voice, speaking to the executives. “It’s not a loss; it’s asset utilization. Those swords and shields are gathering dust in the vault—depreciating assets with zero ROI. If we put them in the hands of the employees, their survival rate increases. Higher survival rate means higher resource yield from the forest. We are investing in our workforce to maximize production.”

He outlined the terms. “It’s a lease program. Cap the quantity per person. The gear is non-transferable. If they return it, we buy it back at the same rate. Effectively, we are loaning them the tools to make us rich.”

Realization dawned on Qingxuan and Jin Jue. It was brilliant. The sect wasn’t losing money; it was temporarily liquidating stagnant inventory to boost operational efficiency.

“One word: Genius,” Jin Jue muttered, shaking his head in admiration.

“In two weeks, we deploy,” Sun Yi continued. “Transport them to the periphery. Their KPI is simple: map the sector and extract resources. We split the revenue 70/30.”

“70/30?” Jin Jue frowned. “The House takes 70%? The squad splits the remaining 30%? Specifically, the Team Lead takes 10%, and the four associates split the remaining 20%? That’s… aggressive. The labor union might riot.”

Sun Yi smiled confidently. “Wait for the announcement.”

He turned back to the crowd of thousand disciples.

“Listen closely! The revenue sharing model for this project is set. The Sect retains 70% of all harvested resources. The Team Lead receives 10%. The remaining 20% is split among the squad members.”

The crowd erupted immediately. “70%? That’s robbery!” “We do the dying, the Sect takes the profit?” “Standard commission is usually 50/50!”

The dissatisfaction was palpable. Sun Yi let them vent for a moment before playing his ace.

“However!” Sun Yi shouted, regaining control. “To ensure you can actually survive to spend those points, I am authorizing a special employee perk. For the next two weeks, the Sect Treasury is open. All combat gear, talismans, and pills are available for exchange at a 90% discount!”

The thunderclap of silence was deafening, followed instantly by a roar of pure, unadulterated greed.

“One-tenth the price?” “I can finally afford a High-Grade Spirit Sword!” “Forget the 70% split! I can deck myself out in full raid gear for peanuts!”

Sun Yi watched the frenzy. He had successfully bought their compliance with their own future earnings.

“Elder Jin,” Sun Yi said, turning away from the cheering mob. “Start the paperwork. Phase One of the expansion has begun.”