Chapter 119: Boundless Love — Lord Lynch

Inside the club, Cook faced colleagues who had worked together for at least three to five years, some over ten, his face pale.

The looks they gave him were complex — disgust, hatred, and something hard to describe, a mix of fear and resentful flattery.

Everyone else was dismissed, but Cook remained. Even harder to accept was that Cook became the executioner ultimately responsible for carrying out the dismissals.

It was understandable why the plumbers and electricians stayed—their technical jobs improved with years of experience, making it easier to find satisfying work.

These veterans could solve any problem, big or small, with ease.

But the others weren’t so lucky; Cook had summoned them all and cut off their last hope.

The club felt as heavy as if a memorial had just been held, everyone wearing the sorrow of something buried deep.

Cook looked down and apologized softly.

No one answered; they just stared at him or looked away.

Soon, the coach stood up, his bottle empty and reeking of alcohol. “Still here? Want to make a joke out of yourselves?” He beckoned to his assistant coach, who helped him leave amid his curses.

Everyone expected the coach to be fired, but none expected to become part of the plan themselves.

Gradually, more people stood and silently left; they already had other jobs. Their ties to the club were only for subsidies.

The athletic federation’s subsidies for professional athletes never stopped, but there were rules—they had to be affiliated with a club, even an amateur one.

Losing that subsidy hurt, but they wouldn’t beg for it. Without it, they wouldn’t starve; with it, life wouldn’t change much.

So they left willingly.

Those remaining were either deeply attached to the club or truly had nowhere else to go. They wanted to see Lynch and hope for a chance to save things.

In the afternoon, nine trucks rumbled into the club’s parking lot. Their imposing presence left Cook and Cook, the leader, bewildered.

Around 3:30 p.m., Lynch’s luxury car entered the club. Cook led the remaining dozen or so members to greet him.

Lynch showed no sign of being the villain who had just crushed their future at the club—no disdain or contempt. Instead, he was warm and familiar, like a neighbor’s or relative’s young, cheerful, energetic child, smiling brightly.

The contrast felt surreal. Could such an optimistic youth really give such harsh orders?

“You are all valuable contributors to the club!”

In the small meeting room, Lynch’s first words acknowledged their contributions, his expression sincere, voice full of deep emotion.

Some grew teary, recalling the club’s past miracles—witnessing both its rise and fall.

The pain deepened.

Lynch’s gaze lingered on each person. “A new dynasty must rise from the ruins of the old, and so it is with this club.”

“Unreasonable structures, flawed management, and poor hiring brought fleeting glory and then a downfall.”

“I’m here to save it from the abyss. I won’t waste my money. To revive this club, to renew public passion for Sabin City’s rugby, I must cut away the rot.”

“My heart aches, too.”

“You are the club’s greatest asset, but we face hard choices.”

“I recently spoke with the mayor. The club will relocate. I’ll build a more professional sports center, with better teams and humbler, more reliable athletes.”

“We will create new glory, new history, and miracles in the national league.”

“You will all witness this, even if you’re no longer here.”

Lynch’s voice softened, then brightened. “To thank you, I will establish a Hall of Fame. Your names will be honored, and you will become lifetime honorary members.”

“For all our games — rugby, tennis, polo, baseball, hockey — you will always have free admission and the best seats.”

“You can visit the club anytime, see our daily progress.”

“Though you’ve lost your jobs for now, recruitment will reopen soon. If you meet the new team’s standards, you’re welcome back.”

Their anger toward Lynch vanished; some even felt glad, seeing his actions as just and right.

The club had long suffered from apathy and neglect; many were there only for subsidies, including the coaching staff.

In hindsight, the club might never have recovered without their efforts during the investigation.

The federation’s support guaranteed basic operations, and with continued success, a better future awaited.

But those who only aimed to coast had doomed the club. Without cutting the rot, there was no hope.

Some even thought Lynch’s plan was to purge some, then rehire them to lead the club to new heights.

Their resentment toward Lynch faded, though they still resented Cook. Overall, they felt satisfied — honored to enter the Hall of Fame and receive such respect.

As Lynch painted a hopeful future and discussed current struggles, everyone left grateful and moved, shaking his hand.

They didn’t notice cameras recording everything.

After seeing them off, Cook grew emotional, realizing Lynch had shared things he hadn’t known.

Unable to hold back, he asked, “Boss, you said we’ll have a new place…”

Lynch glanced at him sideways and nodded. “At least two hundred acres, maybe more. The club won’t just run rugby but many mainstream sports.”

In this era, the commercial value of sports and their related brands was not yet obvious; people had not recognized the business opportunities—not just in sports themselves, but Lynch was fully aware.

News of people robbing shoes at gunpoint on the streets was the best proof. They didn’t even want money—just certain special shoes.

In this desolate world, many things were still in a vague early stage, making it the perfect time to lay industrial foundations.

It might take a long time before any rewarding results appeared, but once these industries matured, they would generate overwhelming profits and influence that no one could ignore.

Cook didn’t fully understand the depth of Lynch’s vision. For now, he felt the insults he’d endured for Lynch were worth it. He cared only about rugby, not the other sports.

Seeing Lynch in good spirits, he cautiously asked, “You mentioned recruiting those colleagues earlier…”

Lynch chuckled lightly—a sound that made Cook uneasy. “Of course, but only if they meet the new team’s standards. We don’t support slackers… no, we don’t support useless people.”

He corrected his words quickly because he was about to sign a cooperation agreement with the local association for people with disabilities to promote hiring and care for them.