Chapter 213 Violence
Violence is the nutrient that feeds capital, but it is also the rope that hangs it. The war between Port Morris and the Ruskin family dashed the Chamber of Commerce's hopes for foreign aid. The bandits were completely unreasonable, not targeting individual merchants but those with deep pockets. Without even giving them a chance to react, they declared their captors "enemies" who "oppressed workers, colluded with foreign enemies, and sabotaged production." They then forced some of the "oppressed" workers and slaves to publicly identify them. Many were declared "guilty" and subsequently beheaded.
It was clearly written in black and white in the contract, but it was the workers themselves who were lazy and couldn't finish the work, and couldn't pay off their debts, so they had no choice but to become slaves and sell their bodies. How can this be considered a crime?
However, the Chamber of Commerce's gold coins were no match for the guns and cannons in the hands of the robbers at this time. The most capable people in the Bloody Bazaar were all beaten into submission, and the only nobles left in the port were frightened. Didn't they see that the Ruskin family had never even set foot on the land of Port Morris?
The Chamber of Commerce president was so worried that his hair began to bald in patches, and finally he had to go to see the treacherous and cunning leader of the People's Party with a smug look on his face. But those damned slaves ignored him and refused to let him see them. In the end, he had to beg and plead, flatter, and bribe them a lot before they reluctantly arranged a time for him.
The person who took him to see the chief was a baby-faced young man who looked very happy and chatted with him all the way.
But the Chamber of Commerce president was deeply impressed by him. This guy had appeared in the factory many times, using his clever words to encourage the workers to riot. But he didn't even dare to glare at him secretly. In the middle of the fight, the other party calmly drew his sword and chopped off the neck of the man who suddenly shot at them. The bullet just grazed his ear and the head rolled over his toes.
"Oh, excuse me for laughing at this." Daniga, still smiling, stared at the Chamber of Commerce president's pale face and said pointedly, "These assassins have been coming out all the time lately, and I don't know who sent them. These people are really despicable. They really should be hanged from the mast - don't you agree?"
The smile on the Chamber of Commerce president's face was uglier than crying.
Before entering the chief's office, the group brutally searched him, their movements rough and rude, as if they were eager to strip him naked. It was a profound humiliation. They were just a bunch of lowly slaves... The Chamber of Commerce president secretly gnashed his teeth in resentment, yet he had to feign indifference when he needed help.
A young man with great talk but no idea of his own limitations—that's how he was described by the directors who had attended the meeting. After all, the young chief's promises were so outrageous that no one believed he could actually deliver.
But now the president of the Chamber of Commerce actually felt a little nervous, because the black-haired young man sitting at the desk in front of him, almost buried in documents, was not even a third of his age.
He couldn't help coughing, and then he met a pair of unpleasant, smoky-gray eyes. The man looked him over quickly, his entire body frozen, as if something cold and sharp had pierced his soul. But the man seemed to understand his intentions, his eyes drooping indifferently as he continued to write and draw on his paper.
Time passed by minute by minute, and the Chamber of Commerce President finally couldn't help but put on a fake smile and said straight to the point: "Dear Mr. Chief, I have brought you a business that is sure to make money."
He'll agree, the Chamber of Commerce president thought confidently. Don't be fooled by the slaves' current display of arrogance. A port city without the supply of merchant ships is like a fish trapped in a puddle on the beach. It may jump around happily now, but it will eventually suffocate to death.
Besides, things that can be solved with money are not a problem - not to mention that there are no politicians in the world who don’t love money.
But this time, the president of the Chamber of Commerce miscalculated.
Daniga glanced at the pale old man who passed by him with his lips trembling, as if he was about to faint at any moment, holding his chest.
Their chief gentleman still had that expressionless look on his face, not even raising his eyes.
Another guy instantly killed by the professor. Daniga couldn't help but tut a few times. He pulled out the bribe the Chamber of Commerce president had slipped him from his pocket and casually placed it on the black-haired young man's desk. The bag immediately made the thumping sound of gold coins colliding, clearly weighing a lot. The old man was quite generous.
There were no other outsiders here, so Daniga simply switched back to the most familiar address: "Professor, what on earth is he doing here?"
He couldn't just come here to get slapped in the face - the threat the professor had made to the Chamber of Commerce at the first conference of representatives from all walks of life had now almost completely come true. Daniga even felt a little sympathetic towards them.
"We want the Kuomintang to stop, invest, and then give us 40% of all the income." The other party answered concisely.
He glanced at the cloth bag on the table and poked it with a pen. Finding that he couldn't get into it at all, he nodded with satisfaction and said, "This will be confiscated and used as activity funds."
There is one thing the Chamber of Commerce president said correctly, that is, the People's Party is very poor, very poor.
"Even if we don't stop, those things are ours." Orel slowly emerged from the shadows and sneered disdainfully when he heard this.
Assassination attempts against members of the People's Party had been relentless in recent days. While the others were capable of self-preservation, the most important individual was a frail, ordinary person. The previous assassination attempt at City Hall had made Ole extremely nervous. He feared it would damage the Shadow Chasers' reputation, and he didn't want someone to come back and exact revenge on him. So, he simply took on the role of personal security while working, only calling in trusted individuals when he was truly unable to.
"So I rejected him," Nova sneered. After losing his assistant, he'd been so busy these days that his temper had skyrocketed. Meeting an idiot made him even more furious, ready to curse. He had no desire to play Tai Chi. "So what if there's no farmland? So what if there's no trade? If the mountain doesn't move, I'll move. Who says the People's Party has to stay isolated and foolishly guard Port Morris?"
"You mean..."
Daniga was stunned for a moment. After considering the other party's recent itinerary, his eyes widened and his voice trembled. "You want the Batalia Highlands?!"
How long has it been? Daniga thought dazedly. It seemed like only yesterday that he had chopped off the head of the Bloody Duke, and now they were going to fight for territory.
But besides being shocked, he was also faintly excited. The Batalia Highlands boasted some of the most fertile land in the entire Silver Iris Empire, and its mild climate made it suitable for growing a variety of crops, making it a major grain-producing region. More importantly, as long as they controlled the Kasa Strait, the voyage from Port Morris to the Batalia Highlands would only take three to five days.
Their leader simply calmly corrected him, "To be precise, it was the Limin Party that supported and directed the peasant uprising in the Batalia Highlands."
The two representatives from the Batalha Heights hadn't come in vain, nor had the life-saving rations they had brought. They had watched the entire Battle of Port Morris, and the professor had clearly sensed their increasingly heated attitude.
Loyal and powerful allies cannot be won by just a few words from one person; the value of united front work is always fought for.
Ole, standing by, couldn't help but cast a deep glance at the tyrant. He was an ambitious man, but he always managed to push those around him into the flames willingly, himself the most dazzling fuel within. His devilishly terrifying charm, while shuddering and terrifying, also compelled everyone to become obsessed with the depths of his soul.
...It's not unfair that I lost to this guy many times in my previous life, and it's not unfair that that guy got deeply involved because of him.
After Daniga left, Ole silently stared at the tyrant who had returned to his work. Seeing him touch the coffee cup again, for some reason, he subconsciously picked up the cup with only the bottom left.
"You've drunk enough today. If you suddenly die, I won't be able to explain it to anyone." Seeing the man raise his head and glare at him fiercely, the assassin leader was not afraid at all. He just shrugged at the man and said, "There's always work to be done. If you really can't help me, can you?"
"No, I'd rather do it myself than teach you." The other person rubbed his brow wearily, and sneered sarcastically, "The biggest help you can give me is if you do your job well."
Ole didn't like what he heard; it triggered his competitive radar—why couldn't he do what his friend could do? He grumbled, picked up a report, and stared at it, his brow furrowed, his face dark, as if lost in thought.
The professor said without looking up: "If you don't understand, put it down, please."
Ole: “…”
He silently put the report back, carefully placing it in its proper place. The two men's skill in mocking others was exactly the same, and even wore down the ruthless assassin like him.
That day, his friend’s answer to him was “lover”.
Honestly, Ole wasn't sure if his friend's definition of "lover" matched the one he was familiar with. His mindset was erratic and paranoid at times. More importantly, he couldn't fathom why the Tyrant had agreed, and he couldn't imagine him putting on a stern face and being sweet and affectionate with someone. It was downright chilling.
...Okay, there's another thing: he just doesn't like seeing his friend's smug look after getting what he wanted.
"Shut up."
"What—I didn't say anything!" Ole stared at the black-haired young man who was writing furiously with his head down, feeling frustrated. I swear by the greatest assassin since the end of the century, he didn't even breathe.
"Your micro-expressions are bothering me, and your eyes are as if they want to burn a hole in my face." The other party took the time to glance at him with unusual irritation: "Yes, we are in a relationship now - so could you please leave and stop bothering me here?"
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