The Billionaire's Multiplier System
Chapter 106 - 107: Quiet Foundations – A Reckoning of Power

Chapter 106: Chapter 107: Quiet Foundations – A Reckoning of Power

The night after the summit dissolved into whispers and veiled glances, Lin Feng sat in his office, the cityscape beyond the glass wall shimmering with artificial starlight. The room was silent except for the rhythmic ticking of a vintage clock—a recent gift from Gu Qing.

Despite the calm, his thoughts churned. The Apex Council had concluded in his favor, but Cassandra’s maneuvering wasn’t just a challenge—it was a message. And that message now had context.

A foreign-backed entity.

He tapped the armrest of his chair lightly, eyes scanning the encrypted dossier that Wen Yan had discreetly delivered that afternoon. Cassandra’s connections were far more sophisticated than mere wealth and social sway. She had been acting on the subtle funding and influence of a Luxembourg-based shell consortium, itself a front for an intelligence network rumored to have ties with an elite economic warfare division.

Which meant her goal wasn’t merely status or revenge.

It was infiltration.

"System," he whispered.

[DING! SYSTEM ONLINE. BALANCE REMAINING: ¥6,320,000,000,000]

[SPECIAL NOTICE: Anomaly in regional influence metrics has triggered Strategic Realignment Protocol eligibility. Would you like to review available strategic modules?]

"No," Lin Feng muttered. "I need to fix the foundation first."

He leaned forward, fingers steepled. Before he could face a battle of ideologies wrapped in silk and champagne, he needed to eliminate internal fragility. The core team had been stretched thin—some divided by ego, some uncertain in the face of Cassandra’s veiled charm.

And some, perhaps, tempted.

He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Mu Qing," he said softly when the line connected. "Assemble the inner team. No advisors. No assistants. Just the original circle. Rooftop lounge. One hour."

She hesitated only briefly. "Understood."

The rooftop of Lin Feng’s central tower wasn’t luxurious in the traditional sense—it was spartan, walled with glass, softly lit, and intentionally minimalistic. A long wooden table stood beneath the stars, surrounded by chairs upholstered in deep obsidian leather.

By 9:40 PM, they were all there.

Mu Qing—elegant as ever in a cream suit. Xue Yating—leaning back with her usual air of aloof rebellion. Ning Yeyu—visibly tired but alert, dressed in clinical grey. Liu Zhi—arms crossed, watching everyone like a tactician studying a chessboard. And Gu Qing—seated calmly, expression unreadable, hands folded over a silk notebook.

Only Su Xinyue was missing. Still overseas.

Lin Feng walked in last. No grand entrance, no preamble.

He sat.

No one spoke.

Then he said quietly, "Cassandra is backed by a foreign economic network. Not investors. Not criminals. Strategists."

A sharp intake of breath from Ning Yeyu. Liu Zhi’s fingers twitched. Gu Qing blinked once, then nodded slowly. Xue Yating didn’t react. She’d already suspected as much.

"I will not allow this project to be hijacked," Lin Feng continued, voice calm. "Not by outsiders. And not from within."

A pause. His eyes scanned each of them.

"From now on, access to key fiscal corridors will be recalibrated. I’m segmenting operational authorities based on loyalty metrics, not just capacity."

Xue Yating raised an eyebrow. "So we’re being graded now?"

"No," Lin Feng said. "You’ve always been graded. I’m just disclosing it."

Mu Qing smiled faintly. "And how do we fare?"

Lin Feng didn’t answer directly. Instead, he tapped a button on the table. A holographic map unfolded in the air—an org chart layered with red, amber, and green nodes. Only a few were green.

The only fully green markers: Mu Qing. Gu Qing. Liu Zhi.

Ning Yeyu was orange—her dual loyalties to the medical community and philanthropic commitments had left her susceptible to influence. Xue Yating? A flickering yellow.

"Really?" Yating said, smirking. "I’m that risky?"

"You’re independent," Lin Feng replied. "And that independence can be strength or weakness. Depends on where pressure lands."

She didn’t argue.

He continued, "I’ve triggered the Strategic Realignment Protocol. Over the next seventy-two hours, departments will quietly reshuffle. Cassandra has talent. She also has ambition. What she lacks is legacy. We have to move faster, deeper, and smarter."

Liu Zhi finally spoke. "How do we handle her soft diplomacy? She’s winning hearts in the secondary tier. The people who don’t sit at this table but who still make decisions for regional platforms, startup selections, charity endorsements... they like her."

"She’s charming," Gu Qing murmured. "And she doesn’t need to prove herself yet. She only has to disrupt. That’s easier than building."

Mu Qing’s eyes glinted. "So we start building harder."

"No," Lin Feng said, shaking his head. "We start owning."

The next morning, before most of the city had stirred from its sleep, Lin Feng was already deep in the underground data nerve center—an off-grid facility designed by Liu Zhi during the first quarter of their expansion. Here, algorithms tracked emotional trends across social platforms, political narratives, market anomalies, and even closed-loop communities.

Wen Yan stood beside him, reporting.

"Cassandra’s engagement rates across mid-tier business forums have spiked 28% in two days. Three of our secondary-tier allies—YunTech, Paragon Bridge, and Five Bells Ventures—have begun exploratory contact with her liaison team."

"Who’s leading it?" Lin Feng asked.

"Qin Xue," Wen Yan said. "She’s reshuffled the liaison group and brought Cassandra into a central advisory role—unofficially. On paper, it looks like a private exchange forum."

Lin Feng’s jaw tightened. "Qin Xue’s move was too silent. She’s aligning them behind the scenes. Which means I need a new frontline."

He turned to Wen Yan. "Prepare full dossiers on the next-generation leadership cohort. I want to meet five rising mid-level female founders personally. No PR. Just strategic dinners."

"Understood."

He paused. "And send Ning Yeyu on an official health infrastructure trip to Kyoto. It gives her space to refocus. Let her choose her next commitment—she’s not a pawn."

Wen Yan hesitated. "And Xue Yating?"

Lin Feng smiled slightly. "I’ll handle her myself."

Later that evening, Xue Yating stood on the terrace of the east wing, smoking.

"You really are dramatic," she said as Lin Feng approached.

"I prefer the term ’methodical’."

She glanced at him. "What do you want?"

"I want you to stop pretending you don’t care."

She didn’t respond, only flicked ash over the glass railing.

"You’ve built part of this empire with me," Lin Feng said. "Don’t let your pride isolate you from the outcome."

"Is that what this is?" she asked softly. "Pride?"

He paused. "Isn’t it?"

She turned to face him. "I don’t like Cassandra. I don’t trust her. But I understand her. She doesn’t beg to be needed. She makes herself essential. You admire that."

Lin Feng was quiet.

"And maybe," she continued, voice lower, "maybe I resent that you admire it."

A long silence passed.

Then Lin Feng said, "Cassandra reminds me of the past. You remind me of the future."

Xue Yating blinked.

"I don’t need more soldiers," he said. "I need anchors."

She stared at him for a beat, then stubbed out her cigarette and walked back inside. But not before murmuring, just loudly enough to hear, "I’m still yellow on your little chart."

"Not for long," he replied.

The next 48 hours were a flurry of quiet, surgical moves.

Two board members in Cassandra’s orbit were suddenly appointed to new offshore subsidiaries—positions with no real influence. A popular think-tank hosting her upcoming roundtable discussion received a last-minute inspection notice from the Ministry of Finance. Gu Qing initiated a closed-door alignment with three traditional families whose loyalties had wavered. Mu Qing secured data rights to two blockchain verification layers—systems that would subtly shift validation of key digital contracts back under Lin Feng’s control.

And most crucially, Lin Feng met five new female founders over a single dinner.

Each conversation was tailored. Each question deliberate. He wasn’t building support—he was building a new generation.

And for the first time in weeks, he felt the tide was shifting again.

Quietly. Precisely.

In his favor.