Chapter 420: The Gathering
Lynch’s admission interview and enrollnt process went smoothly and quickly.
Though he was not yet a major figure, for his age and achievents, he was among the few outstanding peers. The school didn’t treat him as an ordinary student. When Lynch ntioned he might frequently miss classes, the principal and board mbers expressed understanding.
To thank them for their openness, Lynch promised to donate a sum to the school upon graduation as a gesture of gratitude.
After finishing the formalities, Lynch left in a hurry—he truly had important matters to attend to that afternoon.
Following the negotiation teams and the Nagaryll delegation finalizing a series of aid agreents—more like disguised capital exploitation contracts—capitalists had grown clever, hiding their ambitions and packaging themselves as benefactors.
With the cake in the capitalists’ hands, it was ti to divide it. This also marked a chance for those about to assist Nagaryll in realizing the Federation dream to gather, talk, and exchange ideas.
For a long ti, these people would form a special cooperative relationship—not openly, as competition might persist on the surface, but fundantally they stood united.
This was the president and Truman’s directive: they could allow the capitalists to take so profits, divide the cake, but only on the premise that national interests were protected.
Thus, a salon-style cocktail reception was necessary. Lynch, as a key player and beneficiary of Nagaryll’s large-scale developnt, was invited.
Many hoped to learn from him so insight on how to disguise their intentions.
Capital and capitalists had long been part of human history, evolving with society. Stripping away deception, the core of capital remained unchanged: cunning and ruthless acquisition. Different eras required capital to mask itself according to prevailing values—Lynch’s remarkable disguise skill was highly valued.
This reflected the greed of capitalists—they wanted not only money but also good reputation.
The event was held at a golf course outside Eminence, chosen for its spaciousness to set up cocktail tables for over a hundred guests to mingle freely.
Given the large number of attendees, many would want private conversations, and the venue allowed people to move apart as needed. So could also play golf while conducting business.
The golf course owner willingly hosted the event—an expensive affair costing tens of thousands, but a worthwhile investnt. Inviting so many social elites was far more effective than advertising.
At 2:30 p.m., Lynch arrived punctually. About a hundred ters from the gate, the once two-lane single driveway was congested.
Luxury and limited-edition cars filled his view. A group of eager reporters sward the gate, treating the event like the social highlight of the year.
This was natural; such a gathering of elites had far more influence than any celebrity.
“I’m a bit nervous, boss,” said Li, sitting beside Lynch, fidgeting as he adjusted his bow tie in the rearview mirror.
The successful strike against Gephra currency was impressive, and many in Eminence’s financial circles profited.
Losses in copper ore were negligible compared to forex gains.
Unbeknownst to most, Lynch’s copper futures trades were profitable, not loss-making.
People praised Lynch’s financial acun and sharp instincts, and Li, managing Lynch’s accounts, gained attention as well.
This newfound respect was a drastic change. Forrly untouchable figures, like Li’s ex-boss at a brokerage firm, now addressed him respectfully as Mr. Li instead of kid. ????Ｎ??????S
Forr female colleagues who had never given him a chance now frequently invited him out.
Lynch once told Li he had seen Eminence’s darkest nights and promised that seeing its brightest days wouldn’t be hard.
Li once doubted this, knowing rising in Eminence was difficult, but Lynch gave him a dream. Despite doubts, Li pursued it, and now understood Lynch hadn’t lied.
In this city, rising to the top depended on controlling huge sums of money—even if those funds weren’t yours, you could still beco a top player.
People idolized Lynch and Li as having the magic to turn stone into gold, though most didn’t realize Lynch’s profits ca not from instinct or superior algorithms, but from manufacturing his own opportunities.
Many like him existed, embedded across industries—those well-inford insiders who exploited private information to make vast profits.
Lynch was no different, except he frad his insider info as support for the resistance against Gephra’s tyranny.
This was why sociologists said capital’s core never changed: capitalists’ sole aim was more money, with all other actions serving that goal.
For Li, the cocktail reception was eagerly anticipated; for Lynch, it was just a process of dividing territory and resources.
After more than ten minutes of slow progress, their car stopped outside the golf course gate. A red carpet laid out felt awkward to Lynch, but since others paid for the event, he had no right to complain.
Under a barrage of cara flashes, Lynch and Li quickly crossed the carpet and entered the course, where the owner greeted them.
Normally, hosts would stay further inside, but the golf course owner’s status wasn’t high enough here, so he personally welcod guests—a key reason he hosted the event: to expand contacts and elevate his social standing. There were no true philanthropists.
“Mr. Lynch, welco…” The owner appeared around 35-38 years old, upright and tidy, hair slicked with wax, wearing a warm smile. He showed no disrespect despite Lynch’s youth.
His warm, firm handshake left a good impression.
After brief greetings, Lynch moved inside, followed by Li, who politely introduced himself to the owner.
“Don’t be nervous. Treat this like the exhibition we t at. Everyone here is a potential client,” Lynch said, taking two wine glasses from a waiter’s tray and handing one to Li. “Find your opportunity. I won’t pay you this ti, but you can take five percent commission from any funds you secure.”
Li paused, surprised. His gaze quickly shifted from hesitant to aggressive. Such was the power of money.
All the vast sums Li handled belonged to Lynch. Everything Li had was an illusion—once Lynch discarded him, he would be worthless.
But now, Li had a chance—a real opportunity to own his own life.
After watching Li go off to secure funding partners, Lynch scanned the venue and imdiately spotted Mr. Truman surrounded by people near the cocktail table.
As the lead negotiator for this diplomatic eting, Truman was regarded by Federation capitalists almost like a deity—half god, half money.
They caught each other’s eye, raised their glasses in a silent toast, and Lynch took a sip before turning and lting into the crowd.
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