Blackstone Code-Chapter 683: The Call

The Defense Ministry’s hardline stance made it clear they were determined to achieve their objective. Faced with this, internal divisions quickly emerged within the Joint Development Company.

Some believed it wasn’t worth opposing the current federal government. After over a decade of isolationist policy, a president with an aggressive cabinet was finally in power—an opportunity not easily come by.

Federal capitalists had never held much regard for their Gephran counterparts. To them, those so-called peers were little more than lapdogs of power. In contrast, Federation capitalists considered themselves freer and more dignified: not only did they possess vast wealth, but they could also manipulate elections, push legislation through Congress, and decide who became president and which laws passed.

Still, that didn’t stop them from envying the Gephran businessmen. Backed by an irascible emperor and an aggressive nation, even the smallest provocation could lead to threats of war. That kind of state support was a powerful asset for any capitalist.

Despite being mere watchdogs domestically, once outside of Gephra’s borders, those businessmen acted with total disregard for foreign authorities. In contrast, most Federation entrepreneurs rarely dared to venture abroad, preferring the safety of home.

But the tide was turning. Displaying strength had become a trend. More and more radical young people hoped the Federation would take a leading role on the global stage.

If the Federation could fully control Nagaryll’s military, security would indeed improve—and it would serve as a warning to other nations.

Support naturally came with opposition, especially when personal safety was involved.

During a brief recess, someone asked Lynch for his opinion.

Given Lynch’s current status and the size of Blackstone Group, he held considerable sway within the Joint Development Company—and his shares weren’t insignificant either.

Lynch gave no direct answer, instead raising a new topic: joint military exercises.

“The global military landscape is about to change significantly…” Standing among the crowd, Lynch commanded attention. Despite his youth, he spoke with the composure of someone far older.

He neither pressed his own agenda nor stayed silent. He posed thought-provoking ideas, guiding others to think for themselves—without offending anyone, yet still conveying his point of view. He was, without doubt, an impressive young man.

“The Allied Powers’ joint military exercises will undoubtedly provoke the defeated nations of the last world war. If I’m not mistaken, some of them will soon announce major military reforms.”

“This last war exposed deep-rooted problems in every country. We may not see another full-scale global conflict in the next few years, but different forms of war—regional conflicts, friction—will certainly persist.”

Lynch spoke with passion. He had a rare gift: the ability to draw in his audience and hold their attention. This wasn’t just talent—it was charisma.

“A very promising young man,” Mr. Patric remarked from the edge of the crowd to Mr. Wadrick. “Clear goals, unique views, and insightful opinions.”

“International trade will inevitably become the dominant trend. We’ll rely on national power more than ever before.”

Mr. Wadrick nodded in agreement.

It was a predictable shift. In the future, whether capitalists could thrive on the international stage would increasingly depend on the strength of the nation behind them.

A powerful state could trample most so-called foreign laws.

A weak one would be trapped under xenophobic policies with no way out.

After the break, the meeting resumed. No one knew what the Defense Ministry and the military-industrial groups said to the opposition, but by the end, there was near-unanimous agreement.

Next, this plan would be written into Nagaryll’s reconstruction strategy. As members of the Joint Development Company, they were naturally expected to contribute.

That night, Lynch dialed the Governor of Magulana. The call was answered after a little more than two minutes.

This was the governor’s private line, known only to a few. So when he picked up, he didn’t sound like a man of authority—he sounded almost ordinary.

“This is Drag…”

“It’s me. Lynch.”

Two seconds later, the governor replied, “Mr. Lynch…”

He said nothing more—not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know what to say.

Emotionally, he had no reason to feel gratitude toward Lynch. After all, it was Lynch who baited him—and he had taken the bait. As a result, Nagaryll was finished.

That wasn’t an exaggeration. Once a new Nagaryll was established, it would, in essence, mean the country no longer existed.

The governor often regretted his choices. He had been too greedy, hoping to extract too much from Lynch, and ended up dragging the entire nation down with him.

But how could anyone have guessed that behind such a young face lurked such a cunning, calculating soul?

Lynch’s tone was calm and even. “I have a few things to inform you. I just attended a Defense Ministry meeting.”

“Given the current instability in Nagaryll, the federal government has decided to help improve the situation. The Federation will be stationing troops in Nagaryll to assist your police in maintaining public order and to protect those in power—along with our investors.”

“Personal safety. And asset security.”

Instantly, the governor’s blood pressure spiked. His face flushed red, and the veins bulged on the back of the hand gripping his chair’s armrest.

This wasn’t assistance. It was an invasion.

There was no doubt from Lynch’s words—Nagaryll was truly finished.

But even though he had anticipated this outcome, he hadn’t expected it to come so soon… and so irresistibly.

His tense body suddenly relaxed, collapsing into the chair. Sweat poured from him like rain.

The heavy breathing through the receiver revealed the governor’s inner turmoil. But to Lynch, there was neither guilt nor burden.

Weakness and greed always lead to the same ending.

“If… I mean, if, Mr. Lynch—what if someone doesn’t agree?” the governor asked, clinging to a final sliver of hope.

In Nagaryll, provincial governors were effectively local kings—the ruling elite. He couldn’t believe every one of them would agree to lay down arms and allow armed Federation troops to stand behind them.

Being mentally prepared was one thing. Living it was another.

It’s like when people say things like, How much worse can it get? or At worst, I’ll just die, when facing difficulties that haven’t yet arrived.

But when reality truly hits, they still grow afraid, still want to run. In the end, they have no choice but to face the worst outcome in a panic.

Lynch’s voice remained steady, just as before. “Then we’ll replace the ruler. You know, that’s very easy for us.”

That final sliver of hope shattered. Governor Drag felt a sharp pain in his stomach. When people face major life decisions, the tension often causes muscle spasms.

He leaned forward, almost doubled over, rubbing his face with one hand. Power was so alluring, and now, when it was time to let go, the reluctance overwhelmed him—it was nothing like the calm resolve he imagined he’d have.

After about thirty seconds, the pain eased. He straightened up. “I think I understand…”

“Mr. Lynch, once all this is over, I plan to pass my position to my son. I want to go to the Federation. I’m getting old, and this job keeps me from sleeping well. I have constant stomach pain…”

His voice carried a plea, worried that even this might be denied—that the Federation might not allow him to step down so soon.

He listed a few things he’d been experiencing—like the stomach pain, which was real. Doctors had told him his chronic anxiety had caused severe gastritis, though he still didn’t understand how emotions could affect the stomach.

It was time to leave for good, to sever all ties. Becoming a wealthy Federation citizen without a care in the world suddenly didn’t seem like a bad outcome.

As long as he and his descendants could enjoy a prosperous life, maybe that was the best ending.

Lynch didn’t object. “Alright. I respect your decision—but everything waits until this is over.”

“I understand. It shouldn’t affect anything if I start making some arrangements now, right?”

“That’s fine.”

After hanging up, Governor Drag collapsed into his chair. The stomach pain hadn’t eased after the call—it had worsened.

He opened a drawer and took out a small bottle of pills—Federation-made.

The doctor told him to take them regularly, but he didn’t. He instinctively didn’t trust them and only remembered them when the pain became unbearable.

He swallowed two pills dry. A minute later, the pain started to ease, and the grimace on his face began to soften.

He sat there in silence for a long time before forcing a bitter smile. Then he picked up the phone. “Send the young master to my study…”