Chapter 151: The Contract

"How could this be?"

Li Mochen actually wanted to refuse, but the will of the body's original owner was deeply moved, his entire body immersed in joy, eyes reddening, on the verge of tears.

Since the original owner's parents died, no one had cooked for him in over half a year. Especially Eastern dishes—he hadn't had a single one.

So he quickly took action, starting to shovel the contents of the basin into his mouth.

He had to admit, the soup was quite tasty. But as soon as it reached his stomach, Li Mochen felt a blazing fire surge up from within. He had to fully mobilize a supreme secret technique of his sect called the "Divine Thunder Supreme Unity Art," striving to refine the pure vital energy and demonic power absorbed into his body.

By the time Li Mochen had eaten about a third of the soup, along with the "ginseng," "blood ginger," "dragon meat," and other ingredients, he realized he wouldn't be sleeping tonight—he'd have to do a few extra sets of body-tempering boxing drills. And in the days ahead, he'd have to work even harder.

Longmai, on the other hand, was eating with gusto, lying beside another soup basin and gulping down the contents without restraint.

Li Mochen couldn't help but glance at it sideways, thinking: Go ahead, eat your fill! Don't blame me if you get a nosebleed or a stomachache later—I don't have time to massage, acupuncture, or guide this little guy. That whole routine would be exhausting.

And Lina Eldridge—why was she staring at him like that? As if he were her father's murderer? Could it be that Angela cooking for him had upset her?

But soon, Li Mochen discovered something even more terrifying at the bottom of the soup basin—

"Is this tiger marrow? Can't tell which kind."

Li Mochen poked at a lump of something resembling tofu at the bottom of the basin and asked weakly.

He recognized the Sacred Fire Bird heart because he'd seen it at the Targaryen magic materials shop; as for the tiger marrow in the soup basin, he was purely guessing.

Fire bird, dragon species, softshell turtle—all accounted for. The remaining ingredient must come from some kind of tiger.

"It's the marrow of a Level 16 Blue-Eyed White Tiger, so the soup is called the Four Symbols All-Nourishing Soup—"

Seeing Li Mochen eating with such relish, Angela's bright, sparkling eyes nearly disappeared into crescents: "Chef Li Sansi from Li's Private Kitchen in Chinatown taught me how to make it. He's a renowned chef across all of America, having cooked for many celebrities, all of whom praised him endlessly! Especially this Four Symbols All-Nourishing Soup—almost every fighting star competing in Atlanta orders from Li's Private Kitchen. They say it not only boosts cultivation but also repairs hidden injuries and restores vitality to some extent."

Li Mochen wanted to quip that Chef Li must not have told her this was a feast meant only for those above the legal level.

But before he could speak, his spoon had already scooped up the tiger marrow and stuffed it into his mouth.

Just as Li Mochen and Longmai were gulping down the last of the soup, a group led by Jessica Pearson walked in.

"Wow, you're eating so deliciously—any for me?"

Angela turned around and gave a slight smile: "Of course! I've already had the kitchen prepare a late-night snack for everyone."

William Jacques, who had just found a bar of chocolate in the room's snack box, nearly spat it out, thinking: Why didn't you say so earlier? He'd already eaten a whole loaf of bread.

Li Mochen lifted the soup basin, licked up the last remnants, then wiped his mouth and said, "You've reached an agreement, right?"

"Mission accomplished!"

Ms. Pearson found a seat and sat down: "Including Jacques's sponsorship agreement."

William's eyes lit up with joy. The reason he had stayed until now instead of going home was that he was waiting for the lawyers from Pearson-Darby-Specter LLP to negotiate his own sponsorship deal.

But he restrained himself from asking about the details of his contract, knowing that Li Mochen's deal with Nathan Sports Group might involve hundreds of millions of gold shields—far more important than his own.

"Can you give me a rough idea?"

Li Mochen looked expectant: "What percentage can I get? How much money?"

"Amo, what they said was actually right—we can't ignore the NHSAA competition committee's regulations. A 0.5% design fee split is already the limit. Unless you withdraw from the NHSAA competitions now, but that would mean losing the foundation for this contract."

Harvey Specter explained: "So the contract we signed is divided into two phases. The first phase is the first two years, where you get only a 0.5% share. Then the second phase, after you graduate high school, you become the spokesperson for the Lucky Bracelet product and receive 3% of total sales as endorsement fees. Payments are settled every three months per the contract."

Li Mochen thought to himself that hiring Pearson-Darby-Specter LLP was indeed the right move—this was far better than the terms Carl had initially proposed.

Then he looked at Carl Holton: "Carl, can you tell me roughly how much I'll get?"

"We've produced 150,000 Lucky Bracelets so far, originally priced at 14,999 gold shields. But thanks to Pearson-Darby-Specter's legal expertise, we might have to raise the price to between 15,499 and 15,999 gold shields."

Carl calculated quickly in his mind: "At 15,499 gold shields each, if all 150,000 units sell out, you'll get a total of about 11.62 million gold shields over these two years. And after two years, you'll get around 69 million gold shields. Of course, that's assuming everything sells out. But if it does, production will likely continue."

William Jacques was already stunned—over 11 million gold shields was an astronomical figure in his eyes.

"But 15,499 gold shields for a bracelet? That's too expensive! This is just a 6S-level competition magic equipment. At that price, it's practically a luxury item. Can it really sell out?"

"No one can give a definite answer until the products go on sale tomorrow."

Carl spread his hands: "But based on my market instincts, these 150,000 Lucky Bracelets will probably sell. You don't know how popular Amo will be among women, especially young women. He's from Wiltonshire, fitting the image of a prince charming; his parents' death will evoke sympathy and maternal instincts in many women. And his looks are top-tier among all fighting stars. He's even an honor student with a GPA of 3.7—if not for missing so many classes, it would probably be 3.9. Of course, the key is his fighting talent, which is truly rare in the world."

Li Mochen's lips twitched, and he said with some regret: "So most of this money won't be in my hands until two years from now, right?"

That was truly frustrating—he had thought his comic book plan could end here.

"That includes our 5% share—most of the income will come after two years."

Ms. Pearson still had a smile on her face. Although the money would come late, 5% of 80 million was still 4 million gold shields in revenue.

Harvey Specter was right—this Mr. Wiltonshire was a gold mine.

"But you're wrong, Amo. If you want to get the money early, it's not impossible. After signing this contract, you can go to the big banks for a loan—they'll definitely give you the best terms."