Chapter 6: The First Step Toward Legend

“Today’s money…”

Mr. Fox fell silent as he looked at the moneybags Lynch had carried over after making two trips, clearly with great effort.

To be honest, his people had been watching Lynch closely, so he already knew how Lynch had managed to collect all those coins. He found Lynch’s mind both curious and astonishing.

What kind of person could come up with such a clever way to gather coins quickly, without causing any noticeable disruption in society?

He could easily adopt Lynch’s method himself and save 10% in transaction fees—but he didn’t plan to.

Suddenly, he realized that Lynch’s mind, which kept producing such brilliant ideas, was far more valuable than the 10% savings. That mind was the real treasure.

“Want me to count it?” Lynch asked as he stretched his back, plopped down ungracefully into a chair, lit a cigarette, and took a relaxed drag. “I can wait.”

Mr. Fox shook his head and gestured for his men to take the coins away. They would be sent to the Federal Tax Bureau later for counting, registration, and taxation before being deposited in the bank.

For people like Mr. Fox, there had never been a good way to handle this kind of issue.

Frankly speaking, most people in his line of work were not social elites. They lacked higher education and knew little about anything technical—some were barely literate.

Their business didn’t require much beyond guts and a willingness to take risks, which led to many problems.

In recent years, the Baylor Federal Investigation Bureau and the Federal Tax Bureau had been closely monitoring people like them—not only for criminal activity but also for the money in their pockets.

Without legitimate businesses, they often found themselves in trouble. Having money but being unable to spend it had become a silent torment.

To address this, Baylor Federal had enacted several laws to restrict large cash transactions. Any cash deal over $5,000 had to be reported, and those over $50,000 had to be audited.

Even depositing large amounts of cash into a bank required advance notice of the source and intended use of the funds, along with sufficient tax documentation to prove the money was clean.

With airtight regulations and tax agents watching every move, life was hard.

Even with vaults stuffed with cash, they couldn’t spend it. Enjoying a single luxury could trigger targeted inspections. Life under this pressure was brutal.

But in Lynch, Mr. Fox saw something special—not just a way to deal with coins, but a glimmer of the things he had always longed for.

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Lynch, shrugging. “I should pay you…”

“Round it off—$560,” Lynch said generously, shaving off a few bucks to build trust.

Mr. Fox smiled, opened his drawer, and revealed stacks of bills, including $50s and $100s.

As he reached for the $100s, Lynch cleared his throat lightly. “I think fives and tens would be better. Don’t you?”

Mr. Fox nodded without changing expression and counted out $560.

$100 bills were rarely used for daily transactions. They were mostly seen in business settlements or officially reported large cash deals. This was still a society without digital banking—many loopholes in the banking system drove companies to prefer cash over bank transfers, especially interbank ones.

If someone tried to use a $100 bill in public, they would immediately attract attention. People’s sense of civic duty shouldn’t be underestimated.

Store owners were often educated—via pamphlets or word-of-mouth—on what to do when receiving $100 bills, what benefits cooperation could bring, and the consequences of ignoring such guidance.

This made it almost impossible to spend $100 bills in lower and middle-class circles. If someone had a lot of them, even a judge might approve a search warrant despite weak evidence.

That was the most painful part for people like Mr. Fox—the money was right there, in drawers or hidden spots, yet they couldn’t spend it or even give it away.

His act of reaching for the $100 bills had been a test. If Lynch had said nothing, their business would have ended with coin transactions only.

Someone who couldn’t distinguish the stakes, who lacked caution and vigilance, wasn’t worth deeper involvement. But Lynch passed that test smoothly.

Mr. Fox rested his arms on the chair and tilted his head slightly, studying Lynch. “This speed is too slow. Do you have a better method?”

Without counting, Lynch stuffed the bills into his pocket. “In a few days, the flow will grow. And soon, your treasures will finally see the light of day.”

Mr. Fox didn’t press further. He simply let out a breath. “I look forward to that day.”

Lynch was in Sabin City, a small second-tier city within the Baylor Federation, with a population under 800,000.

Yet this city sold at least 100,000 newspaper copies daily. Even if all of them were local editions at 50 cents each, that still meant $50,000 in coins circulating.

And Lynch’s plan didn’t rely solely on newspapers. There were also retail industries and more.

The main currency in use across society was coins and $1, $2, and $5 notes. Although $2 and $5 rarely showed up in laundromats, $1 bills were common.

As Lynch’s influence spread, he could siphon off most of the city’s small change—but this couldn’t last forever.

The Tax Bureau would eventually take notice. The Investigation Bureau would start probing his ties to people like Mr. Fox.

He didn’t want to become someone like Mr. Fox, hiding forever in the shadows. He wanted to be a magnate—a legend.

He wanted to stand under the spotlight, basking in admiration. That was the life he dreamed of.

Everything he was doing now was just to ensure a perfect beginning.