Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

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After leaving the hospital, Chen Juefei went straight home.

The Q3 operational data analysis has been temporarily handled by the Vice President.

When he got home, he sat on the sofa in the living room.

The 200-square-meter apartment has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Lujiazui skyline, and sunlight streams in, illuminating the entire living room.

There was a glass of water on the coffee table, poured by the woman that morning. It wasn't finished; there was half a glass left.

Chen Juefei just sat there.

Looking at that glass of water.

Looking at the remote control on the coffee table.

Looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the tallest building, with a pointed top that reflects the sunlight.

Chen Juefei sat there blankly for two hours.

There's nothing concrete in my mind anymore.

All refunds have been processed.

But my chest still felt heavy.

Exhaustion, heaviness, heat, cold, pain—all of these were present.

Exceptionally clear.

He tried to take a deep breath.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale again, then exhale again.

Useless.

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The phone rang.

He glanced at it; it was his assistant calling.

Connect it.

"Mr. Chen, the meeting minutes have been sent to your email. Would you like to take a look when you have time?"

"it is good."

"Also, you need to attend the quarterly strategic review meeting at headquarters at 3 PM this afternoon. It will be chaired by General Manager Zhou, and all regional directors are required to be online."

Chen Juefei rubbed his face; it was expressionless, and pressing his fingers against it felt like pressing on someone else's face.

"understood."

After hanging up the phone, he stood by the window, watched the slowly disappearing white line for a few more seconds, then turned and walked towards the bathroom.

After taking a shower, he came out wrapped in a bathrobe, his phone lit up.

He picked it up; it was a message from his assistant:

"President Chen, headquarters has informed us that President Zhou has an urgent matter to attend to, and the afternoon meeting has been canceled. We will notify you of the rescheduled date later."

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At 2 p.m., my phone rang again.

Still an assistant.

"President Chen, urgent notice from headquarters. All P8 level and above personnel in Shanghai are required to attend a meeting at headquarters at 4 PM today. President Zhou will personally preside over the meeting, and attendance is mandatory."

It's 4 o'clock, we need to hurry.

Chen Juefei replied "Received", walked to the door, picked up his car keys, thought for a moment, opened the designated driver app, and placed an order.

……

Forty minutes later, the car stopped in the underground parking lot of the headquarters building.

Chen Juefei got out of the back seat, the designated driver handed him the keys, said "Take care, boss," and rode away on his folding electric scooter.

He stood still, looked up at the gray ceiling of the parking lot, took a deep breath, and walked towards the elevator.

After walking a few steps, a black Mercedes opened its door diagonally opposite, and a person got out.

Chen Juefei recognized him; it was He Yu, the sales director for the East China region.

P9, he's at the same level, and we often run into each other at meetings.

He was about to greet them when he suddenly froze.

Zhang Mingyu looked extremely pale.

It's exceptionally bad.

His eyes were dark and swollen, his eye bags were drooping, his lips were chapped, and he looked like he had been drained of all his moisture, and his steps were unsteady.

"Old He?" Chen Juefei blurted out, "What's wrong with you?"

"I didn't sleep well last night..." Zhang Mingyu's voice was hoarse. He looked up and saw Chen Juefei, immediately showing the same surprise: "Old Chen... what's wrong with you again?"

After turning the corner, there was already a person standing at the elevator entrance.

Zhou Cheng, P9, Deputy Director of the Group's Strategy Department.

Zhou Cheng stood with his back to them in front of the elevator door, motionless.

As he got closer, Chen Juefei could see his expression clearly.

Burdened by immense responsibility, unsure of what to do, yet forced to move forward.

Exhausted, heavy, in pain.

He was deeply troubled.

It seems like... I lost 38.5 yuan...

76 Heavenly Ladders

The meeting room door was open.

Cool white light streamed down from the ceiling, illuminating the huge oval conference table. The central air conditioning hummed, and the temperature was set a bit high.

When Chen Juefei went in, most of the people inside were already sitting there.

He stood at the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the area.

Several acquaintances at headquarters—those in the strategy department, finance department, and product department—are all P8s.

We only meet briefly at meetings and are just nodding acquaintances.

They sat in their respective seats, their faces ashen, their eyes sunken. Some looked down at their phones, while others stared blankly at their desks. No one spoke.

Several faces from the East China region also came in.

He Yu entered after him, found a seat by the window, and sat down without saying a word.

Li Nan from the operations department sat next to He Yu, with dark circles under her eyes.

There were also a few people who came from other branches on business trips—from the South China region and the Southwest region. They sat at the other end of the conference table, some holding their phones, some staring blankly out the window, their faces also gray.

Chen Juefei looked at them one by one.

Every face.

Without exception.

He found a seat and sat down, his gaze sweeping over the remaining faces.

Those people were quite familiar to me. Some were colleagues I had worked with at headquarters in the early years, who were later transferred to various war zones; others I often met in online meetings, and we inevitably had a few drinks together at the annual meeting.

More than twenty faces.

Exhausted. Weary. Heavily preoccupied.

It felt like something had hollowed it out and then stuffed in something indescribable.

Chen Juefei's gaze fell on the few people at the far end of the conference table.

Those are P9s, the highest-ranking one or two people in the entire conference room.

They leaned back in their chairs, faces up, eyes closed, lips slightly parted.

Their complexions were worse than anyone else's.

Much worse.

-

Another ten minutes or so passed.

The last few people took their seats.

Chen Juefei glanced at his phone.

3:18.

-

Three minutes later, the meeting room door was pushed open.

The first to enter were two assistants from the president's office, who stood to the side of the door to make way for the passage.

Then, someone was helped in.

Deputy General Manager Zhang, P9.

He was carried in by an assistant, almost dragged and supported, his legs were weak and he slumped with every step, his face was ashen and his eyes were blank.

Another one followed.

Vice President Li, P9.

They were both being carried, both had weak legs, and both had ashen faces.

Vice President Wang, P9.

His situation was slightly better; at least he walked in on his own, but it was only "walking in"—his steps were very slow, each step seeming to require all his strength.

The last person to enter was the group president, P10, Zhou Zhengyi.

He seemed to be doing fairly well, walking at a moderate pace, just like usual, his suit impeccably tailored and his hair perfectly styled.

But as he approached, Chen Juefei still sensed something was amiss.

Zhou Zhengyi walked to the head seat but did not sit down immediately.

He stood there, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the conference room, from left to right, and from right to left.

That look in his eyes was different from usual.

During meetings, Zhou Zhengyi's gaze is calm and composed, exuding a reassuring power.

He will look at you, nod slightly, and then speak slowly and deliberately, like a spring breeze, calming the atmosphere with just a few words.

Those eyes now, they're moving too fast.

When it swept over, Chen Juefei felt something scrape him.

Zhou Zhengyi sat down.

"Let's begin."

The director of the president's office, who came in with Zhou Zhengyi, took his seat at the host's table to the side.

The director's surname is Fang. He is in his early forties and has been with the group for seven or eight years. He has seen all kinds of situations.

At that moment, his face darkened, and he anxiously opened the notebook in front of him and picked up a pen.

"Please come over here, everyone. You should all have a general idea of ​​what's going on." Director Fang's voice was full of fatigue, far from his usual vigorous tone. "Now, tell me what's happening. I'll summarize it here and report it to the higher-ups later."

His gaze swept around the conference room, gesturing towards the area closest to the entrance.

"Liu Tao, you go first."

Liu Tao, Department of Strategy, P8.