Chapter 218: More Greedy Than Greed

“Money is never the main cause of problems!” Lynch leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together resting on his lap.

The lawyer’s face brightened with a smile. Perhaps it was just an illusion, but his posture seemed less rigid.

After sitting down, he took a small double-sided desk clock from his bag and placed it on the table. Pressing a button, the second hand began spinning rapidly. “How can I assist you?”

Under the influence of wealth, a man in his thirties, a university graduate and a licensed lawyer—considered one in a million—lowered his head respectfully to a young man of just twenty-one, using formal speech.

Lynch handed the lawyer a court notice and a sales agreement. The lawyer immediately focused on his work.

He carefully reviewed each clause, marking different parts with various colors. After about fifteen minutes, he set down the papers. “This agreement is very well done. You can tell it came from a skilled colleague.”

The lawyer curled his lips. “Though I’m not used to praising peers at work, this one is really well-made.”

“So, what’s your question, Mr. Lynch?”

Lynch asked something the lawyer never expected: “How can I get these goods detained longer?”

He didn’t ask how to recover his losses, only how to extend the seizure period. The lawyer hesitated, unsure how to respond.

He twisted his wrist holding the pen, eyes shifting from certain lines of the contract back to Lynch’s young face. “You could sue them, or you could withdraw. They knowingly sold you goods of questionable origin, promising their nature—this is fraud, and you’re the victim.”

“So…” He flipped through the documents again, “if you split the two cases and sue separately, rather than combining them as supplementary claims, the goods must be kept in a judge-designated area until both cases are resolved.”

Lynch thought briefly, then took out three crisp twenty-Sol bills from his drawer and handed them over, extending his hand. “Thank you for your professional service. This is our agreed commission.”

The lawyer was puzzled. The whole issue was resolved within twenty minutes with just a few words—not what he expected.

But Lynch clearly signaled the end of the meeting, so the lawyer stood, shook Lynch’s hand firmly, and said, “It’s a pleasure serving a successful man like you. Do you need further legal services?”

He introduced himself again, “Currently, I lead in contract litigation win rates in Sabin City, at the top of the field—and my fees are much cheaper!”

Lynch smiled in a way the lawyer couldn’t read, stuffing the lawyer’s unclaimed money into his jacket pocket and said in words hard for the lawyer to grasp, “You’re the expert in law, but I’m the expert in capital. It’s been a good conversation; I’ve learned a lot. Goodbye.”

The lawyer let go, packed up, and left quickly.

Back in his chair, Lynch dialed Asel’s number. “Help me check the company Nail used to work for and his partners. I have a new business plan.”

After hanging up, Lynch sat at his desk, legs crossed, thumbs touching while other fingers intertwined, forming a circle resting on his raised leg.

His eyes fixed on the office door—but if anyone were in the room, they’d know he wasn’t really looking at the door.

His gaze penetrated the narrow concept of space, seeing far beyond, even piercing the mysteries of time.

Capital is never docile. Some say capital best fits social development, as only the fittest survive, the weak are eliminated, and society progresses.

That may not be entirely true, but it’s not entirely false either.

For any capital to grow quickly, it must expand within legal boundaries—big fish eating small fish, or small fish eating big fish. As long as it doesn’t break rules, or only skirts them slightly, it’s accepted.

Lynch’s focus wasn’t just the workers’ houses or their belongings, but the workers themselves who continuously create value, their former employer, and the three million about to come into his hands.

If he could take all of that at once, his wealth would leap dramatically, and his voice in Sabin City would grow louder.

Meanwhile, the factory owner Lynch was targeting was dining in a high-end restaurant, no longer panicked. The impending huge compensation would help him weather the financial crisis.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected the bankruptcy crisis to be resolved this way. The workers naïvely thought it wouldn’t cause problems, but the outcome was far worse than they imagined.

This massive strike was unprecedented, the largest destructive strike wave since the Baylor Federation was founded. After resolving some issues, the federal government decided to set an example and hold people accountable.

In part, this was also to appease capitalists, whose losses were severe.

The government understood better than most that society relies on capitalists; without them, society would stagnate like a stagnant pond.

Sitting opposite the factory owner was a seemingly ordinary young man—but not quite ordinary—wearing a badge proving he was a licensed lawyer.

“I worry those dirt-poor people can’t raise this money. Should we reduce the compensation claim?”

After a satisfying meal, the factory owner voiced his opinion. He thought the three-million compensation demand was too much. Even with a judge’s support, the poor wouldn’t manage to pay him.

He also feared desperate reactions could lead to something terrible.

The lawyer disagreed, “I spoke with the union’s lawyer. If you agree to waive Mr. Heck’s liability in this case, the union will support your claim.”

“As for the compensation…” The lawyer paused, “One can always gather money by selling everything. If it’s truly impossible…”

The factory owner generously added, “Then consider it my charity.”

He laughed, seeing the financial ruin of dozens of families as trivial—only his own interests mattered.

The lawyer had to remind the overconfident employer, “Sir, our compensation is based on those orders. We’re still in a risky period. Avoid public outings in such places.”

“This could put you at a disadvantage. You understand?”

The owner thought, nodded. “I get it. Until this is over, I won’t go to high-end places.”

Though not completely accurate, the lawyer felt reassured. Their lawsuit wasn’t entirely secure; its basis was that the owner had several orders in hand.

The raw materials in his warehouse were for those orders.

But due to economic downturn, the merchants placing the orders delayed payments, so the factory couldn’t blindly produce.

These companies had paid deposits and couldn’t cancel orders but couldn’t afford follow-up costs, so the deals dragged on.

This was a key reason the judge trusted their huge compensation claim.

After all, the owner had lost goods worth millions, plus raw material repurchase and reorganizing production costs—three million wasn’t excessive.

Both believed the main risk was with those placing orders, but everyone was struggling and unlikely to force the factory to resume production immediately.

After leaving the restaurant, they went to the factory. In the office, the lawyer prepared a list of questions and answers for the factory owner to memorize word for word.

Once the trial begins, the workers’ lawyers will try to prove the owner isn’t shirking responsibility by asking questions.

What the lawyers saw as trivial could lead to unknown consequences if answered incorrectly. To resolve the matter quickly, the factory owner must not make mistakes during questioning.

The simplest method was to memorize the answers. If asked something he didn’t know, he would refuse to answer, claiming the question was unreasonable or unanswerable.

Thinking of the three million soon to be in his hands, the factory owner felt a surge of strength.