Blackstone Code-Chapter 403: Begging for Mercy

Richard left awkwardly, clutching his severed pinky, but Lynch showed no intention of leaving.

He had already gathered most of the information about this group—a scam gang.

Unlike traditional scam gangs, their methods were more covert. Even if discovered, it was difficult to take action against them.

The four gamblers in the room were local entrepreneurs in name only. They gained social recognition by acquiring struggling small businesses, presenting themselves as legitimate business owners.

They were very active socially, frequently attending dinners and events, creating the impression of power and influence.

Newcomers—entrepreneurs and wealthy individuals eager to quickly enter the local business scene—needed helpful insiders.

These gang members showed enthusiasm toward new friends, chatting superficially about local business rules, maintaining a friendly façade.

Newcomers, sensing some hesitation but wanting to build trust fast, sought friendship eagerly.

Playing cards was the fastest way to bond. From the first game, attention shifted from business to the gambling itself, drawing them in deeply.

Some things naturally captivate people, making them hard to resist. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

This game was simple, fresh, thrilling, and fast-paced, stimulating nerves and driving obsession.

Some escaped, and the gang didn’t forcibly hold anyone, but most got dragged in like Richard.

He gradually forgot his original purpose of networking for business help and breaking free from corporate constraints.

Instead, he sank deeper.

Some tried to sue, but to no avail.

Firstly, they never forced anyone to gamble or lose money—it was always voluntary. Courts wouldn’t support claims to recover losses from gambling debts.

Secondly, most victims were newcomers with little local power or connections. Without legal support, private remedies were ineffective.

So this was not strict fraud. And if you accuse their dealer of cheating, do you have proof caught in the act?

This gang lived quite well through this scheme—luxury villas, expensive cigars, fine clothes, parties, and women.

Not only here, but in places like Eminence as well.

Their tactics varied, but the core was the same: exploiting people’s desperation to break into the scene, making them jump into traps willingly.

But the good times ended when they met Lynch.

“My foolish friend has left, but the game is not over…” Lynch shuffled the cards sharply, splitting them into piles, glancing toward the four pale-faced men in the next room. ŖΆ𝐍ȮβÈ𝙎

The bartender and waiters had been subdued. When Lynch showed his safety committee ID, resistance was pointless.

The men sat grimly, faces sour as if mourning a death. Lynch smiled faintly, gesturing, “Place your bets, gentlemen!”

Chips were thrown down, willingly or not. Lynch didn’t even glance at their cards. “Sorry, I win…”

He collected the chips and dealt again. Time and again, with the haunting phrase “Sorry, I win,” they lost everything.

“Mr. Lynch, we’re out of money…” The gang’s leader finally spoke. “Look, we’ve lost all our cash. I can’t continue. Maybe we can play again in a few days?”

A few days?

No need. Once Lynch left, they would pack up and move elsewhere. Their properties wouldn’t be forfeited just because of a short absence, and their bank accounts remained untouched.

But Lynch wasn’t done. He paused in dealing, then continued. “Did you see Richard cut off his own finger?”

The men exchanged nervous glances, reluctantly nodding.

Lynch finished dealing. “No money? No problem. One finger costs you ten thousand. One arm, a hundred thousand.” He chuckled. “Place your bets, gentlemen!”

Before dinner, Lynch had squeezed nearly three hundred thousand from their cash and bank accounts.

Whether they hid more didn’t matter.

Lynch knew this wasn’t all their wealth—the house, luxury cars, other properties, and investments counted too.

He wasn’t a ruthless gangster—he just wanted to teach them a lesson, so he let them go.

Truly a kind-hearted man.

That evening, Lynch ate a simple dinner at the hotel. Shortly after eight, the front desk called his room.

Minutes later, the door knocked. Lynch opened it to find Edwin, the governor’s chief of staff and his relative.

“Mr. Lynch, good to see you again!” Edwin wore a blue striped short-sleeve shirt and casual pants. After shaking hands, Lynch invited him inside.

Edwin’s face bore a constant smile—everyone found it hard not to smile pleasingly around Lynch these days.

His rise had been astonishing—not just wealth, but entry into the president’s circle, becoming a new elite.

And all because of Edwin.

The mayor of Sabin City had sent a report to the governor’s office, but the governor rarely had time to read it. His staff summarized it instead.

Edwin refined key points and handed the summary to the governor, quoting lines that caught the president’s attention. Lynch was invited to the president’s celebration.

Edwin played a quiet but crucial role—transmitting ideas that were accepted.

No one expected that merely attending the president’s event would be Lynch’s chance. Fate loves irony.

“The governor wants to talk to you when he learns you’re here. Are you free tomorrow?”

Lynch nodded. “Afternoon works.”

“Great, we can schedule it later, and you can have dinner with the governor too!” Edwin breathed easier, his smile more genuine. “Oh, and there might be photographers.”

“Can I know in advance what the governor wants to talk about?” Lynch asked. He didn’t think he had much in common with the governor, and with Edwin mentioning photos, he added, “You know, I rarely come here, and my business isn’t based here, so…”

“No problem!” Edwin replied enthusiastically. “This isn’t really about your business interests. It’s almost the end of the year, and next year is an election year.”

Edwin’s words suddenly made Lynch realize something. He blinked, then quickly regained composure. “I think I understand!”

Some things are best left unsaid. The federal governor elections are scheduled for the first half of the election year. The gubernatorial campaigns typically start around October this year. By February next year, each state elects its governor for the new term, followed immediately by the presidential election.

Governors in the Baylor Federation hold tremendous power, almost like kings of their own little kingdoms. In some ways, governors are even more influential than the president.

That’s because presidents can only serve two terms, while governors in thirteen of the seventeen states (excluding the four with special districts) can be re-elected indefinitely.

As long as they avoid tyranny and maintain public trust, they can remain governors for life—this isn’t a negative or cynical view, but rather the ideal every governor strives for.

However, not all governors manage continuous re-election. Most serve only four or eight years, which is enough time for citizens to judge whether their governor can bring them prosperity.

If they can’t, why should they stay in office?

In past years, most governors didn’t worry about this, but this time is different. The federation just went through an unprecedented economic recession. Every state is filled with unemployed people struggling to survive. Public anger is boiling over, and there’s a real chance all the governors might be voted out.

So now, governors are scrambling to secure support.

It’s not just Lynch—other major capitalists and social elites in York State will also be meeting with the governor soon. The governor aims to win them over.