Chapter 320: The Key to Opening the Door to the Future

Nagaryll has long been rumored to harbor gold and gem mines, and many believe these resources exist despite no official geological reports to date.

There are many reasons people are prevented from discovering and exploiting these resources, chief among them the Nagaryll government’s uncooperative stance, which discourages most from pursuing the idea.

Resource development isn’t as simple as declaring, I’m here. From early large-scale exploration to discovery, mining, transport, local refining, and finally international shipping through ports—almost every step requires local government cooperation.

Nagaryll’s refusal to cooperate makes these steps impossible to complete, and none can bypass local authorities. Thus, rumors remain just rumors.

Hearing Lynch’s somewhat provocative retort, Mr. Wadrick didn’t get angry; instead, he found the young man bold and intriguing. Most importantly, Lynch had grasped the core issue—profit.

With profit and benefit, Wadrick was the epitome of high society.

Without profit, or worse, a loss, Wadrick would be a ruthless capitalist.

His gentle smile showed Lynch had impressed him.

Gold and gold mines are crucial to companies and nations alike. Wadrick also believed Nagaryll held more than just gold.

Lynch daringly used this as bait, signaling a real possibility, which Wadrick understood clearly; otherwise, he would have made Lynch and other deceivers realize why some believers call the Federation a devil’s den.

Understanding aside, there were still many questions.

Wadrick pulled a rare pale gold Coluff from a box on the table—a solid color variant seldom seen compared to the usual red, blue, yellow, green, or purple Coluff.

It resembled a small spindle, thicker in the middle, tapering at both ends, wrapped in a golden foil that shimmered brightly.

This Golden Jubilee Edition Coluff cost over five hundred each and wasn’t available through normal channels. Annual production was limited to investors at the source.

Wadrick was undoubtedly one of these investors. Lynch, looking at the Coluff, recalled their conversation about gold.

“Very fitting!” Lynch took the cutter and lighter from Wadrick skillfully and inhaled briefly, surprised by the creamy sweetness and strong layered impact in his mouth.

He didn’t fully inhale—the solid Coluff didn’t support inhaling; only the multicolored ones with spiral white bands were for inhalation.

The intense mouthfeel was surprising and enjoyable, but inhaling would be disastrous.

He slowly exhaled, nodding, “A very special experience with a creamy aroma. I always thought creaminess had nothing to do with these things,” he waved the Coluff, “but apparently not.”

Wadrick was pleased and explained that the tobacco was handpicked and carefully processed by sixteen-year-old girls, including a special step: three rounds of washing and soaking in the first natural milk secretion of a certain mammal—not cow or goat milk, which some find hard to tolerate—allowing the creamy aroma to naturally infuse rather than using chemical flavoring.

This explained the low production volume, as large-scale manufacture was difficult.

The creaminess was distinct but didn’t overpower the original flavor, which developed gradually into a final burst. At five hundred a piece, it wasn’t overpriced.

Sometimes it wasn’t just a luxury for pleasure but a symbol of status.

“What are your plans?” Wadrick asked, lighting one himself from a box. He didn’t care if it was smoked slowly or just once.

He answered his own question, “We know some of what you said, but not everything. To convince others, I need something reliable. Understand?”

Lynch nodded. Though Wadrick was a major conglomerate director capable of influencing national policy, he still had to persuade others for them to believe him.

The higher the social level, the harder it was to convince people.

Young newcomers might only need slogans and visions of a grand future to motivate them.

But convincing the upper echelons required trust backed by facts, not empty talk.

“In Nagaryll, control over gold, jungle, and mining resources doesn’t lie with the central government or provincial governors but with the religious authorities…”

At that moment, Severella passed outside the study. She had just finished her etiquette lesson. As the Federation and international community deepened ties, the government received many foreign visits, and major conglomerates pursued international cooperation.

Recently, Wadrick’s conglomerate planned energy projects with a small nation’s royal family, cautiously stepping into international development.

To honor this cooperation, the Wadrick family—husband, wife, and daughter Severella—would accompany the delegation and stay at the palace.

To maintain face for themselves, the Wadrick name, and the Federation, Wadrick hired a palace etiquette instructor with twenty years of royal experience to teach Severella.

She had just bid farewell to her challenging teacher and was on her way to piano practice when she passed the study.

The door wasn’t fully closed; in this household, no one dared act out of line. Hearing Lynch and her father talking, she quietly pushed the door open a crack to peek.

Lynch sat relaxed opposite Mr. Wadrick, Severella’s father—the renowned capitalist—with a seriousness that showed how earnest he was.

Sunlight filtered through elegant curtains, no longer fierce outside, mixing with dust motes and rising blue smoke in a graceful dance.

The scene captivated her. She’d never seen a young man hold such composure before her father.

Her father had never treated a young man so seriously, and those youths never dared speak boldly before him—but this afternoon, everything changed.

Lynch’s confident demeanor filled the room: his subtle facial expressions, smoking gestures, faint smile—all painted an indelible picture in her heart.

“Cough…” Wadrick soon noticed his daughter spying outside. Lynch stopped and glanced back, waving and greeting her in Wadrick’s presence.

Wadrick glanced at Lynch, then at Severella. “It’s piano time. Don’t keep your teacher waiting, okay?”

Blushing, Severella apologized and closed the door. Wadrick smiled, “She’s mischievous.”

Lynch quickly corrected, “Energetic!”

The two men exchanged a look, then naturally resumed their discussion.

“Gold holds a special place in Nagaryll’s native religion. Everything golden is sacred. So the real key to mining development lies in convincing the high priests.”

“Did you know I brought a kid back with me this time?”

Mr. Wadrick shook his head, saying nothing about why he didn’t know—he had no interest in small players.

“He’s the favored son of the High Priest of the Magulana Province,” Lynch said, frowning slightly. “The High Priest is like our archbishop, holding absolute control over the religious power within the province. And it’s hereditary.”

Those words hadn’t moved Wadrick before—religious power struggles were no simpler than those among politicians or capitalists. Everyone has enemies, no exceptions—not even the president, nor Wadrick himself.

But Lynch’s last sentence revealed his confidence: a hereditary archbishop—could anything be more corrupt than that?

No. Nothing was more corrupt, but nothing was more powerful. It meant absolute authority—and now the key to that power was in their hands.

For a moment, Wadrick no longer saw Lynch as a young man, but as a decisive, cunning, and clever adult.

He didn’t know the phrase old and pompous, but Lynch gave him that feeling—as if facing an equal, a rival.

No longer contempt, but respect—and vigilance.