Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet

"I'll be waiting for your call, Mr. Lawrence," William said, squinting at the chubby Lawrence.

"Of course, Mr. Devonshire, I won't bother you any further." With that, Lawrence hurriedly pulled his equally startled son away.

Once they reached the back of the auction house, Lawrence pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat off his face and whispered to Mickey, "Don't mess with him, Mickey. Whatever you do, don't provoke William Devonshire. My God, it seems the rumors in the black market are true."

"What's true or false?" Mickey snapped back to his senses, confused. "Father, he's just got a bodyguard built like a bear. It's not like we don't have capable fighters."

"Shut up, Mickey," Lawrence scolded, seeing the eagerness in his son's eyes. After a moment of thought, he decided to tell Mickey the truth, hoping it would prevent him from crossing a line they couldn't come back from. Leaning in close to his ear, he whispered, "There's a rumor in the underworld that seven or eight months ago, William Devonshire took out dozens of mercenaries in Montenegro. It's also said that the Albanian gang that was wiped out a few months ago was his doing."

"How is that possible?" Mickey's face turned pale with fear. The incident where sixty or seventy Albanians were killed in one night had sent shockwaves through the French underworld. Mickey had been so spooked that he laid low for a long time before daring to resume his carefree lifestyle. "He's a world-class billionaire! How could he personally take down over a hundred people?"

Shaking his head, Lawrence explained, "Many people are certain that the incident in Montenegro was William Devonshire's doing. I used to think it was impossible, just like you, but when I got close to him just now, I could feel that intense, overwhelming smell of blood. It's something I've learned to recognize after thirty years in... certain circles."

"If the Montenegro incident was really his work, then it's certain that the massacre of the Albanian gang in France a few months ago was also him."

"Why?"

"Because," Lawrence swallowed nervously, his eyes filled with fear, "William Devonshire has a very peculiar habit."

"What habit?" Mickey asked anxiously, noticing his father's trembling voice.

Lawrence composed himself and said, "My God, when William Devonshire kills, he has a specific method. He prefers using a Glock and aims for the head. If he can shoot the head, he won't bother with the body. Over ninety percent of the people killed in Montenegro and those Albanians in Paris were shot in the head."

"Good grief!" Mickey, now fully alarmed, glanced nervously at William, who was sitting in the VIP section, laughing and chatting with Wilson. He wiped his forehead, even though there was no sweat. "Is this guy insane? Why only shoot people in the head?"

As Mickey continued to watch, he suddenly saw William look up and give him a sinister glance. "God, Father, do you think he can hear what we're saying?"

Lawrence also noticed William staring at them. "N-No, that's impossible. There's no way he could hear us from this distance."

Suddenly, Lawrence's phone rang, startling both father and son. With trembling hands, Lawrence answered the call, beads of cold sweat forming on his brow. On the other end of the line, William's voice came through clearly. "People who talk too much don't live long, right, Mr. Lawrence?"

"Y-Yes, Mr. Devonshire, I understand."

"Good. I like smart people. Oh, and one more thing. If I hear that you or your son are damaging Chinese antiques again, I'll send someone to have a little chat with you. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Mr. Devonshire. I promise that won't happen again."

"Good. Oh, and one more favor—please take care of my little spider for me. Thank you."

"Spider?" Lawrence looked at the phone in confusion. What did he mean by spider? When he looked up, he noticed a small spider, about the size of a fingernail, on Mickey's shoulder. He was about to warn his son when William's words flashed in his mind. This... is the spider?

"Don't move, Mickey," Lawrence said, reaching out as if to pick up the spider. But before he could touch it, the little spider raised its front legs, waving them like sharp blades that gleamed with a metallic sheen. Lawrence immediately withdrew his hand. After a moment's thought, he placed his palm flat on Mickey's shoulder, and the robotic spider crawled onto his hand.

Both father and son were now able to clearly see that the spider was actually a robot. Mickey, still in shock, asked his father, "Is this a robot?"

"Of course. What else could it be, a real spider?" Lawrence rolled his eyes at his stunned son. Just as he was about to say more, Mickey suddenly pointed out, "Father, Mr. Devonshire's bodyguard is coming over."

Antonov approached them and said, "Mr. Lawrence, thank you for your help." He extended his hand towards Lawrence.

"It's no trouble, no trouble at all." As soon as Lawrence handed over the spider, it retracted its eight legs and in just two seconds, transformed into a small round ball. It rolled up Antonov's palm, and with a barely audible 'click,' it merged seamlessly into the bracelet on Antonov's wrist.

The sight left Lawrence and Mickey speechless. It was clear to them that the beads on Antonov's bracelet were all such robots.

"Thank you again, Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Devonshire asked me to remind you that if you don't keep your son in check, you'll regret it."

"I understand. Please thank Mr. Devonshire for his advice. I'll make sure to properly educate Mickey." Despite the warning, neither Lawrence nor his almost thirty-year-old son felt offended. On the contrary, they were thrilled to have a connection with William.

After years in their line of work, both father and son knew that William revealing such advanced technology to them wasn't just a warning. It also meant they had some value to him.

"Goodbye, Mr. Lawrence." Antonov nodded at the two of them and returned to William's side.

Mickey's eyes gleamed as he looked at William from a distance. Excited, he said to Lawrence, "My God, I used to think all those rumors about Mr. Devonshire being a genius were exaggerated. But now I truly admire him."

Lawrence shot a disdainful glance at his son, but inwardly, he couldn't help but agree.

"Ah, if only I had a sister," Mickey said dreamily. "I'd introduce her to Mr. Devonshire. Then our family wouldn't need to bother with making forgeries or dealing in black market antiques."

"Shut up, Mickey!" Lawrence almost had a heart attack at his son's shamelessness. "My God, how did I, someone so smart, with a wife even smarter than me, end up with a son like you? If I had another child, do you think you'd still be in line to inherit my business and fortune? I'd have given you some money and sent you far, far away."

"You're not that smart either," Mickey muttered under his breath, glancing at his father.

Just as Mickey finished speaking, they heard a noise behind them. Turning around, they saw five or six Asian men entering the venue. Listening carefully to their conversation, Mickey excitedly said to Lawrence, "Father, another group of Chinese people has arrived!"

"I know, idiot. Don't forget, I'm the one who taught you how to speak Chinese."

Lawrence was just considering whether to go up and introduce himself when he saw the group scan the room. They immediately made their way toward the VIP section where William and Wilson were sitting.

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