Blackstone Code-Chapter 404: Something Unheard Of

“Actually, the governor helped me quite a bit,” Lynch said naturally, mentioning the important role the governor played in his rise.

He expressed closeness toward the governor in a fitting, understated way. The current governor’s continued re-election was beneficial to Lynch, with no downsides.

Eminence was a good place, no doubt, often praised in glowing terms. But in reality, it was a massive slaughterhouse—a grinder.

Countless capitalists, politicians, and others fell here every year, losing everything, ending in ruin.

People only saw Eminence’s prosperity and nightlife, but not the heaps of bones beneath.

Among the federation’s well-known tycoons, none originated directly from Eminence. The place couldn’t produce major magnates because before anyone could rise, they were consumed.

Instead, local regions became incubators for tycoons—like York State. If the Liston Group hadn’t been hiding serious problems in their messy accounts and could survive this crisis, they might become a major tycoon originating from York.

Local and state resources leaned heavily in their favor, along with policies, making growth easier and providing advantages.

If Lynch ever had the chance to build a business empire, York State would naturally be his base. Cultivating good local relations was essential.

These thoughts were best kept quiet; hearing a 21-year-old fantasize about a business empire would likely provoke ridicule.

But Lynch knew it wasn’t a dream—it was a fact.

Edwin’s expression softened. His interests aligned with the governor’s—both personal and family interests.

Only by firmly controlling York State could they and their families grow stronger politically and economically.

Having achieved his main goal and received positive feedback, Edwin stood to leave. Lynch didn’t stop him. Just as Edwin reached the door, Lynch spoke in a subtle tone, “Lately, social behavior in York State has declined. I spoke with the governor; we will implement a rectification plan.”

Watching Edwin’s retreating figure, Lynch’s mind went straight to those scammers.

Some things couldn’t be hidden. For example, Lynch using local safety committee resources for his work was documented in official reports.

With police cooperation, the mayor quickly learned Lynch had mobilized public resources as a special advisor. The mayor informed Edwin.

This was the unfortunate reality for mayors in capital cities—they nominally ruled the state’s most prosperous city, but the state government and its agencies held real power over them.

After learning this, Edwin treated the handling of certain people as a favor, speaking openly about it.

This didn’t feel offensive. Rather, it made Lynch think Edwin and the governor behind him were savvy.

With judges from city and state courts supporting them, even without major evidence, those few could be jailed for a time.

Early the next morning, Lynch arrived at the company. Upon entering, he immediately sensed gloom.

People stood tensely, avoiding sitting. They wouldn’t even look at Lynch, younger than most of them. Heads bowed, they tried to stay out of his sight.

The sound of footsteps echoed like a heartbeat tightening the room’s atmosphere—each step heavier and more suffocating than the last, causing those with weaker nerves to feel dizzy. ȒΆΝ𝐨฿Ës

The footsteps stopped. A faint gasp followed, like someone finally exhaling after being suffocated, then silence.

Lynch glanced at the employees and entered the manager’s office. Richard stood nearby, his hand wrapped in bandages. Lynch was surprised Richard hadn’t reattached his pinky.

Though the federation’s medical technology wasn’t as advanced as the previous world, amputations and reattachments were routine. Even a severed palm could be reattached.

But Richard didn’t pursue surgery. Noticing Lynch’s gaze on his hand, regret immediately appeared on his face.

Lynch crossed the desk and sat. The office was tidy; the manager’s nameplate shined. From the décor, Richard clearly liked this office.

Lynch quickly shifted focus back to Richard and pointed to the chair across from him before asking a question Richard hadn’t expected.

“You want to go solo?”

Richard’s rehearsed excuses vanished. He fell silent, then nodded, then fell silent again.

The idea had grown since he arrived. He knew how profitable the Interstellar Trading Company was—profitable didn’t even begin to cover it, at least from his view.

With almost no capital, it moved hundreds of thousands or millions weekly—across all state cities, about two million flowed into company accounts every week.

The company had basically freed itself from the financial shackles of Gatner in used goods. Its reputation grew, and many ordinary citizens willingly brought in used items for sale.

Items with profit potential were kept; others rejected. With Lynch’s new used goods strategy, many cheap new items were disguised as used to expand the market.

Operating costs steadily fell, but profits remained stable. Around 300,000 to 400,000 flowed weekly into Lynch’s personal account. Another 200,000 to 300,000 was split among sales staff, including Richard.

After necessary expenses and inventory costs, around 100,000 to 200,000 went to shareholders as dividends and capital increases.

In other words, Lynch made over a million monthly profit—this was just what Richard saw; Lynch’s actual income was higher.

And there was virtually no risk. No matter business conditions, Lynch wouldn’t lose money. This business model made Richard eager.

He wanted to try starting his own company, using his talent for himself. That’s how he got trapped and obsessed with gambling.

At that moment, Lynch saw through Richard’s thoughts, leaving him dejected.

Richard knew what he’d done and guessed Lynch’s reaction.

If he were Lynch, he’d be furious if someone stole money to start their own company. Richard abandoned his prepared excuses.

He lowered his head, very dejected. “Yes, Mr. Lynch, I’ve thought about going solo.”

Lynch looked at him, expression serious.

When Lynch smiled, he seemed approachable and infectious. Without a smile, he made people nervous—his stern face quickened hearts and dried mouths.

“It’s normal to have such thoughts, but you shouldn’t build them on harming my interests.”

Richard looked up in surprise, finding it hard to believe.

In today’s federation corporate culture, loyalty is a crucial value. Coupled with the unwavering pension system, most employees are essentially willing to stay with one company for their entire careers. Frequent job changes mean they won’t qualify for the highest pension tier when they retire.

This gave rise to a strong corporate loyalty culture. Occasionally, you’d see people on TV, smiling broadly, telling the audience, I worked for this company my whole life—that’s my pride and honor!

So when someone suddenly talks about starting their own business, most people see it as going against the natural flow of society.

But Lynch didn’t seem to care much about that, which surprised Richard.

“Ambition and desire make you burn brighter. Sorry to use torch to describe you, Richard, but that’s the truth.”

“To me, an employee who only earns a fixed salary without bringing me real profits is far less valuable than a partner who lets me enjoy life with peace of mind.”

“You’ve misunderstood from the start—we’re partners, not employer and subordinate. If you want to start your own company, do whatever you want. Frankly, I don’t mind.”

“As long as you keep bringing me profits, I don’t care what you do.”

“But if you fail to provide benefits and harm my interests, then I’ll have to take action.”

He lifted his head slightly. “Looking at the sales over the past three weeks, aside from minor flaws, our profits are stable. So I’m willing to gamble with you again.”

“I’ll give you another chance, even a big gift. I’ll provide everything you need!”

“And as long as you keep bringing me steady wealth, any small rifts between us,” Lynch sneered slightly, “don’t matter at all.”

Richard swallowed hard, a spark of hope in his eyes. He’d grown used to this life; losing it would be unbearable.

“What do you want me to do, boss?”

Lynch pulled out a pack of cigarettes, flicked one out, and lit it. Richard immediately stood, grabbed a lighter, and lit it for him.

Lynch looked at him with a half-smile. “Have you heard of Level Five Ternary?”