Blackstone Code-Chapter 659: Posting from the Operating Table

Wealth moves hearts.

Since ancient times, how many tales of joy and sorrow, of justice and sin, have been rooted in the pursuit of wealth?

For some, trampling on laws and morals is barely a consideration when weighed against potential profit. All that matters to them is how much money they can make.

Lynch fully understood what Mr. Wadrick was implying—perhaps even more than what was explicitly said. For example… eliminating the one who dares to block their path to riches.

It wouldn’t be the first time, not in the past, not now, and not in the future.

In terms of power, Lynch was no match for those assassinated presidents—he held no real authority.

In terms of wealth and status, he couldn’t compare to the key figures on the boards of major consortiums.

He wasn’t one of those capitalists constantly appearing on the front page—the type willing to get their hands dirty.

If not for the armed force under his control, Blackstone Security, those people likely wouldn’t have even bothered to issue a warning.

After Mr. Wadrick finished speaking, he studied Lynch’s expression, looking for something—

Disappointment?

Frustration?

Resentment at his own weakness?

But there was nothing. Lynch remained as composed and calm as ever. His face never betrayed what was going on inside him—which only piqued Mr. Wadrick’s curiosity further.

Most people, upon hearing bad news, can’t help but let it show. Their eyes, their expressions, their gestures—all betray their emotions.

So what was Lynch really feeling?

Was he crumbling inside?

Or just holding it together?

Wadrick was dying to know.

After a dozen seconds or so, Lynch lowered his head slightly, took a sip of coffee, then looked up at Wadrick. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed the bitter liquid with its faint sweetness.

“Mr. Wadrick, you know, I once heard a saying…”

Wadrick nodded, signaling that he was listening and that Lynch should continue.

“It’s a short one—A man unbound by desire will never retreat in the face of anything.”

Wadrick furrowed his brows slightly and mulled it over. After a while, he relaxed and nodded with approval, maybe even a hint of admiration. “A phrase full of wisdom. You always seem to hear things others miss.”

“Because I’m a man of wisdom,” Lynch joked—neither too modest, nor arrogant.

Their laughter faded. Then Wadrick raised a question: “It’s a wise phrase, sure. But it doesn’t apply to your situation.”

“You do have desires. You want that order from the Governor of Amellia. You’re bound by your desires—and you will retreat.”

Lynch didn’t deny it. “You’re right, Mr. Wadrick. But I wonder if you’ve noticed something. I wasn’t using that quote to say I’m free of desire. I was pointing out that your people—the ones behind you—are just as bound by desire.”

“They want too much, and so they’ll keep shifting their positions and tactics to satisfy those desires. Which means, as long as the pressure is enough, they’ll yield.”

“And for people like us, what are we chasing after?” Lynch asked.

Wadrick answered without much hesitation, “Wealth. In the Federation, wealth matters more than power.”

Lynch nodded. “Then if I can make them feel pain, they’ll back down. And that’s when I push forward—and so can you.”

Wadrick set down the coffee cup he’d been holding. “What do you mean?”

Lynch’s smile shifted slightly. He interlaced his fingers and rested his hands on his knees. “What if those people behind you, who secured this six-hundred-million deal you mentioned, end up causing massive losses to the consortium?”

Instinctively, Wadrick dismissed the possibility. A successful consortium would have a fully competent legal department, well-versed in domestic and international law. The contract between Soren and the company was all but finalized, awaiting only signatures—nothing could change that now.

Behind it were the coordinated efforts of many people.

And for the consortium, it was a sure-win deal. As long as the products were manufactured, they would bring in returns. So how could there be massive losses?

The idea sounded as ridiculous as someone warning you to watch out for a falling star.

But some jokes depend on who tells them.

If the speaker lacks weight, even truth will be taken as a joke.

But if the speaker carries enough weight, even jokes make people think twice.

Wadrick thought seriously for a long while but couldn’t find the flaw. In the end, he just shook his head. “I’m not sure about any of this…”

“Then take it as a joke,” Lynch said with a smile. But could Wadrick really treat it that way?

Lynch continued in a casual tone, “Let’s take this joke and run with it. Say what I described actually happens. Would it help your standing within the consortium?”

He went on, “The board overruled your proposal and modified the project. If their decision leads to huge losses, what will they do? And what will you do?”

Wadrick barely hesitated before answering, “According to the rules, those who pushed the plan would be forced to forfeit some of their shares to compensate the losses. They’d also be kicked off the board and lose their voting rights.”

For members of a major consortium, losing a seat—and voting power—on the board would be a devastating blow.

But such cases were rare. Unless the losses were severe, votes to strip seats usually didn’t pass.

“As for me… it would prove my judgment was right. The board’s neutral members would likely side with me for a while. And I’d have a chance to increase my shareholdings.”

At this point, Wadrick’s cheeks flushed slightly.

He didn’t have many desires. His family was happy, his daughter capable enough not to ruin the inheritance, and he already had more money than he could spend. He didn’t care much for most things.

But when it came to shares in the consortium, he still had some drive. It was like buying insurance.

He could even insure those shares—entrust them to a firm for management. As long as the consortium existed, his descendants would enjoy dividends.

If the consortium lived on for generations, his family would benefit forever.

Everyone seeks something in life.

Some seek rewards in life.

Some seek legacy after death.

Some seek both.

Besides that, more shares mean more influence—this was key.

At that moment, Mr. Wadrick realized that whatever Lynch was planning was directly related to what he had just said. The consortium might be facing a serious blow.

Yet he not only had no intention of warning anyone—he was actually curious. He wanted to see how Lynch was going to pull this off, to push a long-standing financial giant into crisis.

“So, we’re aligned in our goals?”

Wadrick nodded. “At least for now, we have no conflict.”

“What do you need from me?”

Lynch stood, patting his legs. “Support me when the time comes. Support yourself. That’s all.”

After Lynch left, Wadrick returned immediately to his study. Internally, he was far more stirred than he had let on. This was an opportunity.

He wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could take control of the entire consortium—that was impossible. But increasing his influence? That was entirely achievable. He needed to prepare.

Lynch hadn’t told him how he intended to pull off such an impossible plan, but Wadrick believed he could.

Why? Probably because every miracle Lynch had pulled off in the past made the next one seem even more plausible.

Lynch didn’t mention meeting with those behind the scenes. That conflict was irreconcilable. Until a real confrontation happened, no one would admit defeat.

Three or four days passed in apparent calm. In Eminence, and even around the world, it was as if nothing had happened.

On one such quiet day, the Merrick Consortium held a press conference and a signing ceremony. The board member who had pushed the deal forward was present to sign personally.

This was technically irregular, but it didn’t matter—he simply wanted to solidify the credit and increase his influence.

To justify his presence, he borrowed the title of President from a sales company affiliated with the generator manufacturer.

What drew public attention, though, was the six-hundred-million-Sol contract and its economic impact. The consortium announced the deal would create at least 500 mid-level jobs. The public hailed Merrick and its subsidiaries as ethical, conscientious capitalists…

Backstage, staff were applying makeup to the board member who had made the deal happen. He looked at Wadrick in the mirror and said with a half-smile, “You didn’t need to come, you know.”

He wasn’t wrong. Wadrick wasn’t the one signing. His remark, casual as it sounded, carried a trace of provocation.

Becoming the company’s president meant he could sometimes make decisions without board approval. That rubbed certain board members the wrong way—they felt disrespected.

This was a chance for him to show off and exact a bit of revenge.

Wadrick just smiled and said nothing.

He folded one arm across his chest, the other hand toying with his wedding ring. He didn’t respond to the thinly veiled provocation—just turned away.

The board member chuckled, thinking he’d won.

Just then, two directors from the company’s legal department walked in and approached Wadrick, speaking in low voices.

“We’ve just finished reviewing the contract. It was altered,” one of them said.

He pointed out several changes—one especially critical: the penalty clause.

“Because of the contract’s size, we initially set the penalty low—18% of the total order, just over 100 million. But now it’s been changed back. The penalty is 150%—we’re looking at a nine-hundred-million payout if we default.”

The legal director glanced around. “This contract can’t be signed. It’s too risky. Of course, that’s assuming a breach occurs. If you or the board think default is impossible, then there’s no risk.”

Wadrick now understood where Lynch’s confidence came from: the penalty clause.

Not long ago, Lynch had used the same tactic to squeeze every cent out of Herbese, driving the old man to leap from a cliffside estate. Now, they were next.

He glanced at the board member at the makeup table and said gravely, “The Chairman may be attending. Delay the signing a bit.”

Before the board member could respond, Wadrick turned and went straight to the VIP lounge to start a conference call.

Within a minute, phones rang across the country. Surprised or curious, people picked up—and joined the call.

“This is Wadrick. I just reviewed our contract with the Amellia Provincial Government. Some clauses have been altered. I request that we halt the signing ceremony.”

Wadrick’s intent wasn’t to let Lynch destroy the Merrick Consortium. He just wanted to use Lynch to humble a few arrogant board members.

But if things went wrong, and they actually had to pay out nine hundred million—they couldn’t afford it.

Not that the consortium had no money. Its assets far exceeded that. But most of those were real estate or long-term investments—illiquid. That kind of liability could spell disaster.

The death knell for the consortium.

“What did you find, Mr. President?”

The voice was soft, warm, almost priest-like.

But Wadrick knew better. The man behind that voice was the true emperor of the consortium—the Chairman of the Board.

“Our penalty is too high. If something goes wrong, we can’t afford the consequences.”