Chapter 343: The New Rules

“Three hundred fifty thousand, Mr. Lynch!” Kane glanced at Mordick and gave a substantial figure.

This explains why many companies, despite good profits, hesitate to enter mainstream professional sports.

This is just the basic expense for a team newly entering the professional league. As the club grows, costs will only increase.

Lynch remained silent. Kane pressed on, “Besides new equipment, we need more specialized staff. Also, to develop our own star players, we’ll require funding for events.”

“Plus, now that the club’s back in the professional ranks, player salaries must rise accordingly…”

When the club was still amateur, the players earned less than trainees at top clubs.

Now that the team has returned to the professional level, Kane wants to raise salaries partly because it’s a customary practice—different league levels have different salary standards.

Though there’s no strict rule from the federation, everyone follows this unwritten code.

Also, higher salaries help attract potential talent, which is crucial in these tough times—nothing motivates better than pay.

Kane assumed Lynch wouldn’t object, but unexpectedly, Lynch interrupted, “Why raise salaries?”

Kane paused, unsure how to answer. After over half a minute, he said, “Because everyone does it. It’s industry standard.”

“That’s your rule, not mine,” Lynch shook his head. Sitting upright, he stared at them with a weight that made them uneasy despite his unchanged posture.

After about twenty seconds of silence, Kane broke, “Sorry, Mr. Lynch…”

Lynch raised a hand to stop him. “No need to apologize. We just disagree.”

“I’m different from others. What applies to most doesn’t necessarily apply to me.”

“I agree to raise player wages and benefits, but on one condition: rewards must come with penalties.”

“If we only raise salaries and let this industry culture infect our club, we’ll become just like them.”

He didn’t name names, but both men knew exactly whom he meant.

“So I accept your request—but with added conditions. Punishment must exist alongside rewards. Without consequences, players become lazy and complacent. Only with both can we keep them competitive and driven.”

“I understand your concerns—you fear other teams poaching our players with big money.”

“That’s what I’m about to address…” He flipped through Kane’s document. “We need to revise contracts. Everyone must sign new ones.”

Kane and Mordick were speechless, only watching Lynch.

Reading their doubts, Lynch explained the club’s next steps.

“Coach Mordick mentioned introducing advanced, tech-heavy equipment and top professionals to develop our athletes…”

Coach Mordick nodded, feeling a bit uneasy. “Yes, Mr. Lynch.”

“That means investing more resources into players’ growth. So, I need a separate contract—one where players agree to training and development.”

“Training, improvement, building stars—it costs money. While the player’s own effort matters, the club’s support is key.”

“If we develop an ordinary athlete into a star, we must offer high salaries and better benefits to prevent them from jumping ship at any offer. This is the most toxic culture in pro sports—no exceptions.”

“When training skilled workers in cutting-edge fields, we sign strict contracts to protect our investment. Pro athletes need the same.”

Many elite tech workers receive generous pay and conditions but are bound by minimum work periods and non-compete clauses to safeguard the company’s investment.

Star athletes are no different—they get the best industry support but often shirk corresponding responsibilities.

Some stars jump ship when offered more money elsewhere, wasting years of club investment in money and effort. This is unacceptable.

Lynch wanted to change that. If a player enjoys the club’s support and becomes a star here, they must honestly contribute to the club.

Want to leave?

Sure—but only if the club is paid. How much and who pays is another matter.

Lynch laid out his terms. Kane and Mordick exchanged looks, unsure how to respond.

Was Lynch’s demand excessive? Not really—they agreed the club deserved protection and returns on investment.

But such contracts hadn’t existed in this industry before.

Kane finally said, “This has never been done…”

“Now it has,” Lynch said firmly. “New contracts will be drafted by lawyers. Only players who sign the training agreement get access to our best resources, professional advice, and a chance to become stars here.”

The matter was settled. Kane forced a smile. “Players might have objections…”

“Then let them leave. There are plenty of healthy young people lined up at job centers. We’ll pick the ones we want, the ones who fit.”

“Kane, remember: this world doesn’t need anyone. We’re the gatekeepers. We control who becomes a star.”

With that, the topic ended. After a moment with no further objections, Lynch stood. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go. I have a meeting with the mayor later.”

In Baylor Federation, modesty is scorned. Low profiles are frowned upon.

Being high-profile isn’t negative—if you have power, why hide it?

Kane and Mordick escorted Lynch to the club entrance. Once Lynch was in the car, he rolled down the window. “The accountant and I will come by with the funds in a few days. You’ll have new colleagues then.”

Club operations were back on track. Funds were growing; leaving things unattended was no longer an option.

Kane and Mordick clearly understood, though they felt somewhat helpless.

About twenty minutes later, Lynch met Mark at his villa.

“Congratulations on your team winning the championship!” The mayor of Sabin City greeted him with a smile.

The mayor’s smile was genuine. A championship was truly good news—during tough times, any positive event lifts spirits, especially the club’s return to the professional league.

It showed Sabin City’s resilience and fighting spirit.

“When will the support funds arrive?” Lynch asked as they sat in Mark’s study.

“By tomorrow afternoon at the latest!” the mayor replied playfully.

Besides the city’s financial allocation, the federation would also provide a bonus fund to encourage and support the club’s role in developing professional sports.

Together, the funds totaled about eighty thousand—modest but significant, and recurring annually. As the club rises in rank, the amount will increase.

After discussing this minor matter, the mayor looked at Lynch with satisfaction. “Lynch, do you think we have a chance?”

The question was abrupt—most would be caught off guard, including the mayor, who had prepared to explain what he meant.

Surprisingly, Lynch understood immediately.

He nodded and said, “Of course we do…” His relaxed posture, almost too casual, reflected his current status.

The mayor asked with curiosity, “You know what I’m referring to?”

“Nagaryll!” Lynch answered.