Blackstone Code
Chapter 321:

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Nagalier would no longer be as safe as it once was. As the pace of global development accelerated, countries like Nagalier could no longer remain overlooked for any reason.

Every nation was dissatisfied with the outcome of the last world war. They were biding their time, preparing for the next one. When that war broke out, all pretenses of civilization, morality, and etiquette would be torn apart in an instant.

People would no longer forgive anyone simply because they "didn't cooperate." In that era, when weapons spoke louder than words, no one could resist the demands of steel giants.

The rulers of Nagalier had begun to sense this shift. Initially, the High Priest intended to send his youngest son abroad to study in the Ameliea region, where he would also support him in becoming a merchant.

Ameliea would soon brim with opportunities, and it was the most critical overseas territory of the Gevra Empire. The empire valued it more than some of its domestic regions.

The High Priest was securing a fallback plan—for himself or for his children. But what about the Provincial Governors? Did they harbor similar thoughts?

Undoubtedly, they did. However, Lynch hadn't interacted enough with them to gain their trust or elevate his standing. These individuals wouldn't easily divulge their secrets to someone like him.

Still, through the High Priest's decision to send his youngest son abroad, Lynch had discerned certain underlying truths.

"What do you plan to do?" Waldric adjusted his posture, adopting a tone of inquiry. "If we push too far, even your so-called High Priest might abandon his favored child rather than fall into our trap."

"The indifference of rulers toward familial bonds is more terrifying than you imagine," Waldric explained further, ensuring Lynch didn't miscalculate on this point.

Simply threatening to control the High Priest by holding his beloved child hostage would be futile. Faced with such a scenario, the High Priest might sacrifice the child rather than become a puppet in someone else's hands. As long as he retained power, he could always produce more heirs.

This was a challenge. Waldric already had some strategies in mind but wanted to hear Lynch's solution—would it impress him as usual, or would it be disappointingly conventional?

Lynch smoked calmly, shifting his posture. He rested his wrists on the edge of the table. From the side, Waldric leaned slightly back—a posture known in behavioral psychology as a "defensive stance." Maintaining distance provided security and emphasized dominance.

In contrast, Lynch leaned forward, using gestures to assert pressure—a posture termed "aggressive" or "offensive." Through subtle body language, he aimed to overwhelm his opponent and compel agreement.

Such tactics were common in negotiations. Dominant representatives often employed aggressive gestures to bolster their persuasiveness, exuding an air of readiness to pounce at any moment.

On the other hand, those in weaker positions maintained a laughable "gentlemanly stance," sitting upright and distancing themselves from the negotiation table. They were like gentlemen trapped in a lion's den, desperate to escape.

Perhaps sensing Lynch's sharp, imposing aura, Waldric casually pulled the ashtray closer with the hand holding his Colofu. "Don't flick ashes everywhere…"

This seemingly trivial gesture and innocuous remark unexpectedly shifted the dynamic. Waldric subtly asserted a point—he was the master here.

Lynch chuckled, and the atmosphere lightened instantly. "Mr. Waldric, have you heard of something called the ‘gambler's algorithm'?" He paused, searching for the right term. "A mathematical model?"

Waldric shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not interested in math, but I'd love to hear your explanation."

Lynch nodded slightly. "Among gamblers, there's a saying: if they lose one buck, they'll bet two bucks the next time. If they win, they recover their initial loss and gain an extra buck."

This concept didn't surprise Waldric. He nodded politely to show he was listening.

Lynch continued with a smile. "If they lose again, they'll bet four bucks the third time, recovering all previous losses in one go."

"Eight bucks….." "Sixteen bucks…" "Thirty-two bucks…" "Until hundreds, thousands, or even millions."

"All it takes is one win," Lynch said, raising a finger. "Just one victory, and not only do they recover everything they've lost, but they also achieve their original goal."

By now, Waldric's expression had grown intensely focused. While this might merely be a gambler's strategy—or perhaps not—it didn't matter. It vividly illustrated a common phenomenon in finance.

Many companies, when faced with a suddenly deteriorating business, don't immediately withdraw. Instead, they increase investment, hoping to turn profits. But the more they invest, the harder it becomes to cut their losses.

Federal financial history was rife with such examples—even large conglomerates had collapsed after attempting to salvage failing ventures. What began as minor losses spiraled into devastating costs due to sunk investments.

These "minor losses" weren't inherently catastrophic; rather, the escalating sunk costs made the problem increasingly severe and difficult to abandon.

Waldric could now roughly grasp Lynch's meaning, though he still harbored doubts. He shouldn't have been uncertain, but unconsciously, Lynch had seized control, pulling him into "Lynch's time."

"So how do we ensure the High Priest loses every time and continues betting after each loss?"

Lynch shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Having conveyed his ideas, he relaxed his posture.

"We're not just players at the gambling table," he said with a smirk. "We're also the dealers, referees, and rule-makers."

Thoughtful expressions crossed Waldric's face. He realized Lynch's plan was far more ingenious than his own. Once the High Priest staked everything on the Federation, even if the Federation tried to expel him, he wouldn't leave easily.

He couldn't afford to leave. To survive, he'd have to submit to the Federation's control—or risk losing everything.

Not only that, but his transactions with the Federation would become the final straw breaking him. He'd have no choice but to comply with the Federation's terms.

Satisfied, Waldric nodded. "What's your plan?"

"Start with the boy," Lynch replied. "Of course, I'll need your assistance, Mr. Waldric…"

…..

After their private discussion, Waldric stood at the estate's gate to see Lynch off—a gesture of exceptionally high regard. Even members of Congress hadn't received such treatment, leaving the butler curious yet too intimidated to ask questions.

On the way back, Waldric suddenly asked, "Do you know the ‘gambler's algorithm'?"

The butler hesitated, shaking his head. "I'll find out immediately, sir."

"No need," Waldric said, pausing briefly. "I already understand. Also, Lynch and I have reached an agreement. In a few days, my daughter will attend an exhibition with him. Arrange for our people to protect her. Ensure they don't meet privately. Do you understand?"

The butler kept his head bowed. "I swear on my life that Miss Severella will leave and return untouched."

Waldric nodded approvingly. Though his words might sound old-fashioned or strict, it was far better than allowing his daughter to lose her virtue and become a laughingstock in high society.

This circle wasn't as noble or pristine as outsiders imagined. Beneath the surface, both men and women harbored ugliness, pettiness, and depravity. Rumors could ruin his daughter, and he wouldn't allow that to happen.

Next, he needed to persuade the board to approve his plan and convince several congressmen and presidential aides. Such international affairs required consultation with the highest echelons of federal leadership, given their diplomatic implications.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, a young man reveled in the Federation's decadence.

Girls with skin as pale as milk crawled around him in skimpy clothing. Rare wines from Nagalier filled a bathtub. Cigarettes, alcohol, and hedonism—nothing could be more perfect.

In just a few days, the seventeen-year-old had grown accustomed to this lifestyle and fallen deeply in love with it. He'd forgotten the poverty and backwardness of Nagalier. Suddenly, he felt his father's decision to send him here was profoundly wise. He adored everything about this place.

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