Chapter 271

“It seems Truman appreciates you,” Mr. Wadrick joked from afar, smiling. “But being appreciated by him isn’t necessarily a good thing—he’s not like us.”

Lynch recognized it as a well-intentioned warning. He looked at Mr. Wadrick with seriousness and curiosity. “Why?”

“Why?” Wadrick glanced at Truman in the distance. “He comes from a military family—his grandfather’s grandfather, his grandfather’s father, his grandfather, his own father, and even himself all served.”

“Truman performed exceptionally in the military. If he hadn’t chosen to return to civilian life, you might be calling him ‘General’ now.”

Though Wadrick’s tone was neutral, Lynch could sense his underlying dislike for Truman. This slight elaboration was a subtle way of seeking agreement—by highlighting someone’s least likable traits to provoke shared sentiment.

“He brought that military style into the presidential office—it’s hard to say whether that’s good or bad. You know, I heard a joke: on Truman’s first day in office, he ordered the presidential security team to do daily drills like soldiers. The chief security advisor argued with him over it.”

Wadrick clinked glasses with Lynch. “His style is hard to appreciate.”

In mainstream society, whether generals or foot soldiers, politicians and major capitalists generally disliked the military. They still held prejudices, imagining soldiers to be like those centuries ago—thieves, bandits, social dregs prone to violence, lacking culture, and needing greater violence to suppress them.

This bias was reinforced by frequent military scandals—people saw the military as small, independent kingdoms, hard to tolerate. But more intolerable was their rigid style. Politicians, capitalists, and others always needed flexibility. In society, flexibility had become a norm. Standards were a bottom line, not an exact line.

But for soldiers, one is one, two is two—no compromise.

Wadrick didn’t know the full story. Truman had left the military and given up a promising future because he realized it couldn’t fulfill his ambitions.

Truman was a militaristic nationalist. Despite his service, he realized that even as a general or Marshal of the Federal Army, he’d never have real power. He’d still have to follow the Department of Defense and the President—no matter his rank.

So he resigned and aligned himself with the new president. The Progressive Party had always had strong ties to the military, which had essentially become a mouthpiece for the radicals. Truman quickly rose within the party.

He used his military experience, connections, and capability to stand out. Especially when his analysis of international warfare and diplomatic trends proved accurate, the new president appointed him head of the newly formed International Affairs Policy Research Office.

Truman always kept his ambitions hidden. He was waiting.

He knew many disliked or even hated him, but he didn’t care. He deliberately showed people only the parts of himself that would be disliked—his strict military style—while hiding his true self.

After finishing the topic, Wadrick paused briefly, then shifted the conversation. “I heard you have a big plan in York State—building idle goods trading centers in every city?”

Lynch nodded. “I noticed city planning in the Federation lacks such spaces. Current secondhand trade often deals in stolen goods, and buyers can easily get into trouble.”

“There’s a market, there’s demand—I’ll do it. It’s that simple.”

In the slums or roadside stalls, most high-end secondhand sellers were burglars or robbers with no stable fencing channels, so they sold on the street. If caught, the police would first recover the stolen goods. Buyers often got tracked down.

Then the police would confiscate the item and return it to the rightful owner. Buyers would be given two options:

One, pretend nothing happened and accept the loss. The police were already letting them off by not charging them with buying stolen property.

Two, sue the thief to recover the money. Whether the legal fees exceeded the item’s price was a separate issue.

Either option was hard to accept. Most people just let it go.

Wadrick nodded in agreement. “You’ve identified a great opportunity. Would you accept investment?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Lynch replied quickly, then followed up.

Wadrick thought for a moment. “If I put in two million in cash, how much equity would I get?”

“If there are no additional terms, about ten percent at this stage.”

The company, spun off from Interstellar Trade, had only completed internal funding from Old Antique and hadn’t gone public yet. Based on actual received funds, Wadrick’s offer exceeded 50% of the company’s current asset value.

But such deals weren’t purely numerical. Part of Wadrick’s two million would be used to purchase shares from Lynch, and part would be invested directly into the company as capital increase.

If all of it went to buying equity, the money would end up in Lynch’s pocket—a simple transaction. Wadrick would get shares, Lynch would get money, but the company itself would gain nothing. Its net worth would remain unchanged.

But with a capital increase, part of the money bought equity, and the rest directly boosted the company’s assets—instantly increasing its net worth.

As a result, all shareholders benefited, because their shares became more valuable.

Such investment structures were common. Investors didn’t object. While it might seem like a slight loss for Wadrick now, in the long run, it was a gain.

Details like equity adjustments and buy-sell clauses would be spelled out in the full contract to ensure the investment wasn’t a loss.

Maintaining a steady rate of capital injection was a powerful way to quickly raise a company’s net worth before it went public—making financial reports look better.

Wadrick’s investment in Lynch wasn’t impulsive. Perhaps he thought well of him—but only to a point.

For people like Wadrick, investment was a way of life.

Even if he seemed to gain nothing but shares in Lynch’s company, he could later convert them into cash or exchange them for stakes in other companies when needed.

To major capitalists, anything of value was reduced to numbers. Regardless of how it appeared, everything was just numbers now.

After confirming the investment, Mr. Wadrick clinked glasses with Lynch once more before heading off to handle his own social engagements. Lynch had his own matters to attend to as well.

His prominence attracted others with similar thoughts to gather around him, discussing international affairs and the upcoming boom in global trade.

Before long, the conversation shifted from a mutual exchange to attentive listening. Lynch made full use of his strengths and once again became the center of attention.

Regardless of whether the event itself was a success or if the president achieved his desired outcome, Lynch had accomplished his own objectives.

He had shown his face before a crowd of influential figures, secured an investment, and subtly planted a dangerous idea:

Profits earned through honest business would never come as quickly—or as abundantly—as those taken by force.