To Ivan and Bailey, what in the world could be more important than what was nestled in their own pockets? Nothing!

If human interests weren't lining their pockets, then even selling out humanity ten times over for a single sliver of personal gain was a profitable transaction.

Moreover, with so many like-minded individuals joining them in this corruption, they had formed a collective force, offering each other protection shields that made it nearly impossible for the human world to sanction them. Therefore, even a slight delay in joining this cake-cutting feast represented an immense loss.

As for whether human society would be annihilated by the Ancient Legion, they weren't concerned. With three hundred billion people available, how could they possibly lose to those ape-men with a mere ten million population?

As for when humanity's interests would be entirely consumed, that wasn't their problem to consider. Among those carving up the cake, adding the two of them or leaving them out made little difference; there were far too many people eager to eat, and if they didn't take a piece, someone else would immediately step in.

Bailey chewed his half-raw meat bite by bite. With an exaggerated motion, he swallowed the beef in his mouth and said, "The intervention of the Psionic Temple was once my greatest worry. If they had caught us lying, we would have been finished. Back then, in front of that ape-cult leader, Horas, someone dared to play both sides, hoping to slip through and then betray the Ape Worship Cult with a massive strike once back on Earth. But he was exposed on the spot. I still remember, Horas started by burning that man's toes, then spent half an hour burning off his entire outer skin, then the muscle, then the internal organs. It took him two full hours to burn that man to death—all because he uttered a single lie!"

A look of terror crossed Ivan’s face, and he accidentally dropped his cigar onto the tablecloth, scorching a hole in it. He picked up the cigar, tossed it away, and covered the ember with a silver serving dish. “Why bring that up now? Horas made over a thousand people witness that scene; I was among them. After that day, I had nightmares for a full week, losing over ten kilograms, and I could always hear that man's screams ringing in my ears. Even thinking about it now gives me the chills.”

“However, the Psionic Temple has an inherent weakness: there are simply too few of them. A mere ten thousand or so Psionics—what can they accomplish? The saying goes, 'Those not of my race have different hearts.' A small minority of outsiders trying to control the majority always fails. The resources of human society are controlled by us; we are the mainstream. No matter how strong those mutated monsters become, they can only be supporting players. We are only keeping them around now because we are fighting the Ancient Legion. Otherwise, dropping a few hundred atomic bombs, sacrificing a billion lives in the process, would be worth it to completely eradicate the Awakened!” Bailey declared, gesturing sharply with his knife and fork.

“Sacrificing one hundred million people to kill one person—they really think highly of themselves!” Ivan laughed heartily.

Of course, this billion people couldn't possibly be the upper crust like themselves. This was unspoken, an obvious fact known to both.

“Holding these things in my heart for too long recently was making me ill. It’s a good thing you came to listen to me vent; I feel much better now. You can rest assured about the Intelligence Department; I will tell them to moderate their actions. They should still grant me some face.”

As Bailey spoke, he reached into his pocket and felt a set of keys—the keys to a bank safe deposit box that Ivan had given him. Inside the box were one hundred million in bearer bonds. The recipient didn't need to state their identity; they only needed the key and the password to open the safe.

This was far more discreet than a bank transfer or a cheque payment. Bearer bonds were of a high denomination; one hundred million could be withdrawn in a small package. Giving it to a trusted subordinate to handle would be completely untraceable.

If there hadn't been sufficient incentive, Bailey would never have agreed to help based only on Ivan's request. Although all it took was saying a word to get the favor, what was fundamentally being used was connections—a resource of extremely high value that was difficult to buy with money. Cultivating those connections had taken him half a lifetime; they weren't meant for being a selfless helper.

After the meal concluded, Bailey tapped his wrist-mounted device. Two burly bodyguards entered the dining room.

“Thank you for the hospitality. If you ever need anything, feel free to call on me. I’m a very helpful person, hahahaha…” Bailey roared with laughter, straightened his stooped frame, and left, supported by his bodyguards.

Although Ivan had suffered a financial loss, he had also averted disaster. After letting the bodyguards in, he took out another cigar, trimmed the end with a cigar cutter, and had a bodyguard light it for him. Then, blowing smoke rings, he lumbered out with his heavy frame.

The empty dining room was suddenly pierced by a voice: “This is Ghost Agent Cyster. I have important intelligence to report. Preparing video data transmission. Please receive.”

...

The headquarters of the Earth United Government was situated on an artificial island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. This island, named Union Island, spanned ten thousand square kilometers, equipped with a fully functional large airport and port, where the government buildings stood in dense clusters.

The United Government Building, located at the island's center, was shaped like a perfect hemisphere, resembling half a watermelon inverted onto the ground, the spherical exterior symbolizing the entire Earth.

The building's surface was inlaid with reflective mirrors, constantly mirroring the sky's scenery. When the sky was clear, the entire structure shone with the blue of the heavens, as beautiful as the Earth seen from space.

At this moment, the Ministers of the Earth United Government were convening a meeting.

There were twelve Ministers in total, responsible for managing the bulk of the government's work. In reality, compared to the President, the Ministers held slightly more power. After all, Earth was a world of multiple ethnicities and countless conflicts, some spanning millennia. Under such a complex background, concentrating vast authority in a single individual was clearly unfeasible.

Under these circumstances, the role of the President of the Earth United Government was more like that of a coordinator. While possessing significantly more authority than the former Secretary-General of the United Nations, it was still far from absolute.

The Ministers of the twelve major departments were elected by the United Council, overseeing areas such as Defense, Commerce, Agriculture, Transportation, and Education.

It must be mentioned here that the Intelligence Department and the Joint Staff Headquarters were not among the twelve major departments. The Intelligence Department was a composite of several intelligence bureaus, responsible to numerous departments in both the government and the military. The Joint Staff Headquarters, subordinate to the Earth Military Command, operated under a separate system from the United Council.

Currently, the twelve Ministers were gathered around a round table in a small conference room.

The Minister of Industry presented a report: “Gentlemen, I hold the summary report of various industrial accidents over the past two months. The statistics are alarming. The accident rate has risen by thirty-two percentage points and continues to increase. This is clearly due to the massive mobilization of experienced workers into the military, leaving their replacements to be young and insufficiently skilled. The report indicates that many accidents resulted from low-level operator error—something almost unimaginable under normal circumstances!”

The Minister of Health and Welfare concurred: “It’s the same on my end. The military requires such large numbers of doctors that medical accidents in my department have become frequent, rising by fifty percentage points compared to previous years. This is a deeply worrying figure. What surprises me even more is that some newly promoted doctors haven't even fully grasped the basic curriculum!”

Both then turned their gazes toward the Minister of Education, as these problems were clearly related to schooling.

The Minister of Education frowned and said, “The current issue is that in preparation for the Saturn campaign, conscription hasn't stopped; it has intensified. To ensure the needs of the front lines, I had to agree to allow students in some schools to graduate early. They truly haven’t finished learning all the necessary knowledge and are entering the workforce without internships. But what else can be done? This cannot be blamed on the students, nor on me—the blame lies squarely on this accursed war!”

The three then looked towards the Minister of Defense. Marshal Duncan, the Defense Minister, was a veteran of the military. He had been serving in the Earth Military fifty years ago when the war against the Ancient Legion began. Now, the once robust young man had become an old man with white hair, having just celebrated his seventy-first birthday.

He cleared his throat: “So, what if we don’t fight this battle? What if we leave Jupiter as it is and humanity remains confined to the inner solar system?”

“How can that be?”

“Of course, that’s impossible.”

“Old Marshal, are you joking?”

The other Ministers immediately refuted the notion.

The Minister of Construction suddenly interjected: “Minister Duncan, the recent military expenditures have drastically cut our construction funding. Many large-scale local projects have been temporarily halted to make way for the war. And while the Jupiter campaign was won, the losses were catastrophic. Personnel compensation, treatment for the wounded, and the costs of recruiting and training new soldiers—all these things combined, even with insurance companies covering a portion, must be placing considerable strain on the treasury. Could you please tell us how much longer this state of war must continue?”

The Minister of Finance nodded in agreement; he was clearly siding with the Minister of Construction. He had been suffering headaches recently due to the colossal military budget requests. Although the responsibility for approving the expenditure lay with the Council, the allocation, auditing, and supervision of the funds fell directly upon him, making the last few days feel like years.

Minister Duncan pondered for a moment before answering: “Based on the opinions of the frontline commanders, combined with the data provided by the Joint Staff Headquarters, it will take approximately another six months. Once all preparatory work is complete, we will strike Saturn. Capturing Saturn will restore the strategic depth we held eight months ago. Then, we can take a breather, allow the treasury to recover, and subsequently plan the recovery of the Twin King Star defensive line.”

The other eleven Ministers reacted with varying expressions, each contemplating how the next six months would impact their respective sectors.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the air: “Six months is absolutely unacceptable. Saturn must be taken within three months!”