Chapter 211: The Second Impeachment

Some things cannot be hidden.

Not long after Lynch got home, Ferrell came to visit.

By now, some people, including the mayor, already knew Lynch and Ferrell had a good relationship.

This was common—everyone had their own circles and friends. Lynch understood Ferrell’s purpose; it was no different from what he had done before.

As long as it didn’t harm his interests, he wouldn’t interfere with their relationship. Sometimes, such connections even made it easier for the mayor to get things done.

Like now.

Ferrell declined Lynch’s offer of coffee and asked directly, “What did Edward want when he called you?”

Such a question could only be asked between close associates. Even if Ferrell had asked, Lynch wouldn’t have answered unless their relationship allowed such straightforwardness.

Lynch had the maid prepare him a cup of coffee. After drinking, he needed to sober up; he actually preferred tea, but that didn’t exist here.

After some thought, he casually said, “He plans to push his ideas and has gathered some people to his side. They intend to meet with the union in a few days to try to resolve the current issues.”

Ferrell’s expression immediately grew serious. Without a doubt, Edward’s private, unauthorized actions were disgraceful. Matters like this should be handled by city hall, not a state assemblyman. Edward had overstepped.

What annoyed Ferrell more was that if Edward succeeded, he would gain huge prestige in Sabin City, laying a strong foundation for a possible mayoral campaign.

From the current perspective, Edward was a rival to the mayor. If successful, he’d make the mayor look as ineffective and foolish as rumors suggested.

From the future’s perspective, Edward was Ferrell’s competitor—he had clearly shown intentions to run for mayor, a formidable opponent.

And this opponent had already begun acting ahead of time.

“This news is important…” Ferrell couldn’t sit still. Once Edward’s momentum built, any achievements from the mayor’s behind-the-scenes work would be credited to Edward’s efforts.

He stood to leave, but Lynch gestured to the sofa, stopping him. “Stay a few more minutes. I have a new idea we might discuss.”

Ferrell looked at Lynch for a moment, then sat back down. “I hope your idea won’t be too long.”

Lynch laughed heartily—Ferrell rarely complained. If he had made it this far in this job, complaints were rare. But now he did, which was amusing.

After laughing, Lynch’s voice became steady. “I want to take over the power company.”

Ferrell was stunned. “That won’t be easy. The power company is backed by state figures…”

Such a vital and profitable business rarely fell into the hands of outsiders. It had long been part of the state’s interest network.

Behind Sabin City’s power company was a holding group closely tied to the governor and Progressive Party leaders. Taking it from them would be extremely difficult.

“But they’ve clearly chosen the wrong side. In times like these, they should stand on the right side…” Lynch paused, realizing the situation was more complicated than expected, involving the governor and top party officials.

After some thought, he changed approach. “What if I start a new power company that supplies electricity to the city grid at a lower price?”

Ferrell considered it, then nodded. “The central grid people only care about money. If you show goodwill, they won’t refuse.”

The Central Grid was a publicly traded company—not government-run, but a corporation. Alongside it were Eastern, Western, Southern, and Northern grids—originally one federal grid.

When antitrust laws took effect nationwide, the federal grid was split into five regional grids, each controlling the largest, densest networks in their areas.

Their power remained concentrated—they belonged to certain individuals, families, or interest groups.

Through cross-shareholding, the trust appeared dismantled publicly but in reality had blended deeply with the public.

Companies at this level didn’t care who supplied their electricity, only how much profit they made. Their power was beyond easy local government interference.

Even a city- or state-wide blackout could force leaders to compromise.

Seeing Lynch’s calm, Ferrell shot down his plan. “I’m not optimistic. The federal environmental agency rarely approves coal power now. Even if the local government interferes, they won’t relent. Be prepared.”

Sabin City’s current power came mostly from coal plants. Besides energy sources, they burned city waste—a common urban method.

Big cities produce too much waste for landfills alone. Burning it to generate power was easier.

Burnable materials were used for electricity; metals were recycled. With subsidies and sales, the power company still profited.

But coal power’s pollution was a huge problem. The environmental agency rarely approved coal projects. Connections didn’t help.

Poor communities could resist financial pressure. Without their approval, projects couldn’t get permits.

Lynch shook his head without elaboration, then asked Ferrell to leave.

His plan wasn’t coal power but hydroelectric. He even wanted to get involved in the water company.

Hart told him the lake next to Hart’s houses, which they got using club land, might be artificially expanded within five to ten years to become Sabin City’s new water source.

The current water source was near capacity. If the city’s population grew and the economy improved, a huge water shortage would arise, requiring new sources.

A stagnant lake couldn’t serve as a water source. To make it viable, it would need inflows and outflows. Building several small hydropower stations using the terrain’s elevation changes could manage this, and he could take over the water company as well. He believed this was entirely feasible.

If the current water company disagreed?

Impossible. Lynch would act as the representative of the few dozen lakeside residents, insisting they only recognized his company’s legal right to use the water.

The next morning, Sabin City’s situation suddenly shifted. City hall announced it would select fifteen strike worker representatives from various trades to meet face-to-face with the mayor to resolve the issues.

The announcement instantly calmed the chaotic city, showing no one wanted the unrest to continue.

Everyone hoped for a satisfactory resolution.

Meanwhile, in Eminence, the federal capital, protests also took place.

On the night of November 22, some young people broke from the registered march without notice. Violent clashes erupted with riot police.A young man was shot four times and died on the spot. Another was hit eleven times and died in the hospital despite efforts to save him.

Several other young people suffered varying degrees of injury.

Although the riot police claimed these youths had strayed from the protest route, attempted to vandalize a store and steal from it, and even threw Molotov cocktails at the police, the public could not forgive them.

“The weapons meant to protect the people have become the executioner’s axe, taking innocent lives!”

Suddenly, the entire federation felt like a boiling pot of hot oil; a drop of ice water fell into its center and it instantly boiled over.

At the same time, congress members reintroduced impeachment proceedings against the president. The process officially began, moving into the voting phase.

After weeks of silence, public opinion started speaking out, blaming the federal president’s cabinet as the root of the problem. The president was busy purging political opponents while ignoring the rights of the people, deliberately allowing such tragedies to occur.

Accusations of presidential incompetence filled the federation, turning it into a global joke.

In this post-war, relatively calm international scene, people needed news like this to stir things up.

Of course, this did not include those directly involved.