Chapter 178: Autumn Resolve

“International trade…”

Edwin thought seriously for a moment, then shook his head. He knew more than anyone else in the room.

The federation currently lacked the basic conditions for international trade. Many countries were deeply dissatisfied with the Baylor Federation’s neutral stance during the war. Beneath this dissatisfaction lay even deeper reasons.

During the world war, as a neutral country, the federation naturally became a refuge for capital escaping the conflict, accelerating its economic growth.

While many countries were torn apart by war, their populations dwindling and lands deserted, the Baylor Federation’s neutrality made it increasingly prosperous.

This caused an indescribable resentment among many warring nations. Even the victors felt that neutral countries like Baylor had stolen the fruits of their victory, so they showed no goodwill toward the federation.

These victorious countries, relying on their wins over half the world, ignored the neutral federation and refused to honor bonds, deliberately making things difficult.

The defeated countries, meanwhile, fulfilled obligations only superficially, making the repayments technically possible but effectively meaningless.

Caught in this diplomatic dilemma, the idea of expanding international trade remained just a notion.

Perhaps it truly was a good way to solve the federation’s current problems, but the time wasn’t right—it hadn’t matured.

Edwin glanced at Lynch a few more times. This young man was indeed different. He immediately saw through the situation. Similar discussions had happened within the Progressive Party, and their conclusions were roughly the same as Lynch’s.

Reviving the economy was simple in theory—just ensure the factories had stable buyers.

The domestic market was saturated, so why not look to the international market? With 2.4 billion people worldwide, what couldn’t be consumed?

But it wasn’t possible now. The international community’s dissatisfaction with the federation’s stance made it difficult to operate globally. Without major changes soon, this would last for a long time.

Edwin jotted down some private symbols in his notebook as reminders.

He had been a stenographer in his youth. In this world where technology was rapidly advancing but still lagged far behind another world, meeting notes were mostly handwritten by secretaries.

Human handwriting was slower than speech, so stenographers developed their own codes to avoid missing words.

After writing, Edwin didn’t further discuss Lynch’s ideas, which made others look at Lynch more kindly.

After another half hour, the meeting ended. Edwin shook hands with everyone, thanking them for their efforts at the late meeting. If the governor made any decisions, these people would be the first informed.

Each attendee politely shook hands and said it was their duty. At that moment, there was no trace of the ugliness shown when they exploited workers—only grace and elegance.

That night, Lynch stayed here. The next day he left in the mayor’s car, exchanging business cards with others, including Senator Green.

Senator Green served in the state senate but didn’t often live in Sabin City. He was only here to provide some services and would leave after Edwin’s departure.

On the way back, the mayor suddenly broke the silence in the car. “Are you confident in what you told me last time?”

Lynch thought briefly and immediately understood. “Mr. Edwin’s attitude already told us everything, didn’t it?”

The ideas others proposed last night were always discussed by Edwin with the group, even if some seemed utterly foolish, he considered and debated them seriously.

Only Lynch’s idea was not discussed, no alternative views offered, no debate started.

From the start, Edwin already understood this idea thoroughly—no need to elaborate.

People might discuss foolish things, but when found worthless, discussions stopped promptly. Only ideas deemed valuable were explored deeply.

If this idea had no value, the governor’s chief of staff wouldn’t have studied it thoroughly.

The mayor said no more but began seriously considering the feasibility of Lynch’s suggestions. It was tricky, especially changing the current employment system—a minefield and taboo that could cause huge problems.

He didn’t mention it again. Silence returned, but both men were lost in thought, wondering how long this situation would last.

With September’s arrival and the widespread shutdown of the Liston Group, once relatively prosperous Sabin City quickly declined.

The streets filled with grim-faced people, aimlessly wandering with crossed arms. Groups whispered in corners, casting chills on passersby.

A luxury car slowly stopped outside a bank. Some children and young people immediately reached out to Lynch as he stepped out. Lynch casually tossed a handful of coins on the ground.

About seven or eight, maybe ten coins in total. He didn’t care much.

Better to let their hands get dirty than ruin his thousand-Sol clothes. The money wouldn’t even cover cleaning.

The crowd shifted toward the sidewalk and curb, bending or crouching to pick up the coins, clutching them tightly. Outside, Lynch heard curses and cheers. Some even fought over the money.

Inside the bank, peace and calm returned, especially when the doors closed. The street noise was like silent mime behind glass—no longer able to distract Lynch.

Refusing the clerk’s help, Lynch went straight to George’s office. He was here about a plot of land.

Sabin’s real estate market remained lukewarm, and land prices kept falling. Hart had thought Lynch would change his mind after some time, but after half a month, Lynch had shown no sign.

Hart himself grew restless and decided to accept Lynch’s offer and finalize the deal.

Hart had been under great pressure lately. His previous project had failed badly, and investors and creditors were pressuring him.

His only hope was securing a steady income to calm them.

Sometimes, he thought, partnering in business wasn’t easy. When profits came, partners demanded more; when losses hit, they shouted for compensation. They seemed less like investors and more like starving wild dogs.

George was packing as Lynch entered. The bank wasn’t a place for talks; they planned to go to a private venue later. Lynch came by coincidence, and George had matters to discuss too.

“Have a seat…” he greeted and continued packing. Lynch casually sat on the sofa.

Curious, Lynch glanced at several ledger-like books George sorted—full of names.

“What’s this?” Lynch asked. It didn’t look like an account book or bank passbook.

George didn’t stop working, quickly signing and flipping pages, then said, “It’s the list of approved personal credit loans for the first phase.”

He flipped a book and pointed, “See, this guy named Tom got a 1,300 credit loan from the bank with no collateral. Once applied, the money goes straight into his account. He only pays about 0.2% interest weekly.”

Lynch sneered and stopped paying attention to the papers. This was a monster.

Credit loans themselves weren’t a bad policy, but implementing them now was ill-timed.

It was simple: people used credit loans out of poverty but had to pay high interest. Without jobs, once their cash ran dry, they’d face the harsh reality of having their assets auctioned off.

Banks didn’t care about humanity. Their legal departments were filled with devils in human skin—once, they even pulled two gold teeth from an old woman’s mouth to recover a loan.

Struggling families could be crushed even further. Everyone knew auctions never sold at full price, especially for secondhand goods. They would lose far more than they gained.

Soon George finished up and left the bank with Lynch. The crowd outside had been dispersed; only two police officers remained.

Except for a few dried bloodstains on the ground, no one would know a conflict had just taken place.

George glanced at the shocking red stains, then looked away, chatting with Lynch as they got into the car and slowly drove off.