Chapter 106: Don't Lose Face
The next day, while Li Lekang was still snoring away, Judy—acting as CEO on his behalf—had already begun negotiating commercial cooperation with the Holy Organization.
Stell’s religious identity was only one of many; he also held titles as entrepreneur, director of a major corporation, and supervisor. After a round of discussion, Judy secured the big film contract.
This pleasant business deal perfectly made Li Lekang’s New York trip far less tedious.
Li Lekang suddenly became both director and producer. He first arranged for Judy to fly back to Los Angeles on a private jet so she could discuss terms with LAA and prepare to bring a full professional crew.
Back in New York, Stell obtained every convenience from the top brass, allowing the bishop of the eastern diocese to generously hand over a house on Long Island for the duration of the shoot.
This same residence also served as the venue for the annual meeting. Once the layout was set, it would become the stage for the Messiah’s divine tricks, and funds would be spent without stint.
Li Lekang led a team to the site for inspection.
Regarding real estate, Americans showed rare humility.
It was called a house, yet in truth it was a palace.
The wealthy enclave east of Long Island boasted ample land, sparing it the congestion of Beverly Hills, so the Holy Organization’s “mansion” dwarfed even the California estates.
Li Lekang found himself at a loss for words. After all, one would never picture vineyards stretching across the horizon here—California was the only place he imagined such endless fields.
The property measured three times the size of the White House, its exterior freshly painted white and styled in Victorian elegance with pointed roofs that made it feel as though one had stepped into the world of The Great Gatsby.
The estate housed dozens of dogs and roughly ten horses, while more than fifty servants alone ensured the comfort of daily life, surpassing even that of the American president in the White House.
This was merely for venue scheduling; personnel could be mobilized at will, and both equipment and budget would chase the absolute pinnacle.
Li Lekang felt a pang of nerves about the entire endeavor. If the finished short fell short of expectations, he would feel he had failed the organization’s trust.
Yet his anxiety lasted only a moment. As long as the pose was correct, taking the money carried no shame! One could tire of Michael Bay’s explosive spectacles, but one could never deny this was still film art.
“Excellent. This is exactly the place I envisioned for artistic creation!”
The priest, having circled the grounds in an electric sightseeing vehicle, looked visibly pleased.
At least it concealed the fact that he held no clear vision in mind.
He merely hoped Judy would locate a director and screenwriter capable of delivering.
Yet he could not claim complete ignorance either; Li Lekang could simply cast the project as another grand magic performance.
Treating it as a spectacle, the rhythm flowed naturally in his mind.
The central focus remained the Messiah’s arrival at the annual meeting—the decisive moment for the illusion—and it must be recorded in full.
Live broadcast, multiple camera angles, high-speed capture: thousands or tens of thousands of frames for analysis mattered little; magic was magic.
Casually produce a few promotional videos as well; no rigid specifications were needed, only enough to explain why the entire budget had reached one or two hundred million.
One could not claim the footage was merely a recording of the meeting yet cost two hundred million dollars!
Even if Stell would not admit it, the shaved-head representative could never explain the expenditure to the organization.
Thus Li Lekang prepared several additional videos as insurance. When questioned about the funds, this archive of finished material would serve as proof.
After all, in Hollywood’s era of pure creative burn, a million dollars or ten million could describe the same magic-enhanced scene.
Once the cause and effect became clear, Li Lekang felt no pressure at all.
He could direct the film himself if he wished.
Just water it down.
It was not a joke; Li Lekang had already devised segments, including those featuring his assassin nun squad. The script’s core had taken shape.
Drawing on Americans’ longstanding arrogance and prejudice, he positioned himself as the world’s ultimate benefactor while casting all neighbors as villains.
The tale unfolded thus: neighboring Mexican demons ran rampant, gangs trafficked countless women and children, and the Holy faithful learned of the crisis. The Holy Charity Fund was instructed to send aid.
A company of nun sisters received the order and set out to investigate. They uncovered crimes along the route, the suffering of women and children, and resolved to fight evil with violence. Torn from their habits, they revealed tactical gear beneath, seized long guns and rocket launchers, and, in the name of the Saints, delivered the wicked to God.
The entire sequence could employ montage, with cause and effect conveyed through interspersed images and brief dialogue.
No lengthy exposition was required; only a cool, commanding style.
Key themes could be emphasized: the righteous mission of the Holy Charity Fund and the formidable security force embodied by the nun sisters. The advertisements would achieve their purpose.
Moreover, this timely presentation would resonate with a new generation of teenagers. They would not find it uncool, nor would they reject it. The image of the Holy Organization would quietly take root in their hearts, building favor.
It was merely the same subtle cultural transmission as American media exports—through film, game, and visual rendering rather than overt indoctrination. Just as some viewers now believed the U.S. military fought only villains because cinema and games depicted it so.
Yet the train of thought had wandered far. Li Lekang was, after all, merely a man eager to embezzle funds.
Half the investment landing in his own pocket was no mere figure of speech.
Upon returning to Los Angeles, Judy immediately reached LAA, coordinating scripts, camera directors, and the shooting crew; contracts were currently being drafted.
Li Lekang himself brainstormed several magic-script concepts: Savior: Descent, Holy Light of Faith, All-Powerful Father God, and the video piece Holy Sister tailored for his nun sisters.
The first three stage performances were effortless for him with his magical abilities.
As for the final script, it stemmed from one of his wild imaginings. He fleshed it out in detail and handed it to the director for filming.
His vision portrayed the segment in cool tones—black and white, with a cadre of stern nuns abandoning their conventional dogmatic image. They punished evil and rewarded good, violently upholding justice: absolutely cool and commanding.
It would even satisfy contemporary demands for female empowerment.
Such imagery would, of course, appear heretical. Yet in the twenty-first century, failing to keep pace truly meant falling behind.
The Holy Organization itself maintained an open stance; who knew whether this bold trick might work, especially as promotional material that could afford some exaggeration. Perhaps the young would love it.
That same day Li Lekang located Olivia and informed her of the plan: you will star in the promotional film—you will appear on television.
Olivia hesitated. She felt they lacked special acting talent and, to be honest, few had much experience before the camera.
“This will make no difference. Keep your usual natural demeanor; I have seen it, trust me—the most authentic is what emerges naturally. Come.”
Li Lekang’s praise gently coaxed her into the car.
It was too late to seek professional actors now, and fees would still consume a share of the budget cake. It was far better to cast these nuns with genuine skill; authenticity would explode off the screen.
Moreover, the piece focused on visual style—simply maintain a cool demeanor throughout. Line work was unnecessary, and dialogue would be minimal. He felt it was absolutely viable.