My American magical life
Chapter 839 - 839 47 The King's Game End Continue the madness 11K votes please!_6

839: Chapter 47 The King’s Game End (Continue the madness, 11K votes please!)_6 839: Chapter 47 The King’s Game End (Continue the madness, 11K votes please!)_6 But outside, there were two Vietnamese holding guns.

The black muzzle emanated a cold glint, extinguishing the joy of those rushing towards freedom.

“Go back, wait!” one of the Vietnamese said.

Wang Weiheng attempted to negotiate, but a Vietnamese fired a shot at his feet; the bullet ricocheted and hit the arm of someone behind him.

“My arm, ah, my arm!”

In the terror of death, Wang Weiheng felt a warm sensation between his legs; he had wet himself.

At this moment, with a gun pointed at him and bullets piercing the air so close, he finally understood America was not what he thought it was.

Unfortunately, it was all too late.

The conqueror’s throne is built on skeletons; the king seated upon it cannot hear the cries of the white bones beneath him.

The capitalist system and the human system are two incompatible sets of systems; the core difference lies in whether human values or capital opportunities take precedence.

Putting people first is a slogan, but it’s also the most inner desire that everyone is born with, engraved in their subconscious, or perhaps, an instinct.

Putting capital first is not a slogan, but it’s the universal principle that all capital abides by quietly.

Cheng Daqi could not hear Wang Weiheng’s cries; if he truly heard them, even though Wang Weiheng was but a pitiable and pathetic figure, Cheng would still feel agony.

He knew someone was crying, but he needed to move forward quickly.

With the trolley dilemma, Cheng’s answer was to take the fastest path, no matter how many unlucky ones lay upon it.

This is the decisive method a ruler should possess, but it does not mean Cheng Daqi lacks a kind heart.

—————–

Cheng Daqi stood over 1.8 meters tall; Mi’er was around 1.8 meters as well.

Both were not short, even Mi’er had been called a ‘monster for being too tall’ by Cheng’s fanatical female fans.

But embracing Achilles, the scene was awkward like a dwarf hugging a giant.

Achilles was the best interpretation of the Carama family’s generations of gene optimization; smart, strong, and brimming with energy (perhaps pushed along too), any person, male or female, would be touched by his vibrant vitality.

“You should have told me you were coming so I could arrange someone to receive you.”

Achilles was not at all stand-offish; his attitude was genuinely familial towards Cheng and Mi’er.

“We were afraid of troubling you, and I’m familiar with this place, no tour guide needed, but thank you.”

Whether Mi’er had let go of her intentions to compete with Achilles for the inheritance, Cheng Daqi didn’t know, and neither did Achilles, but she seemed rather friendly at the moment.

“Mr.

Achilles, have you been less busy recently?” Cheng Daqi asked.

“Ha-ha, you guys are important.

I was just in Israel, not far from you, so I came over to see you.”

Achilles took Cheng and Mi’er away from the beach, and they drove towards the Carama family’s castle.

“I’m here to see grandfather, I’ll leave in two days, brother.”

Sitting with her brother, the raven-haired heiress did not know how to start a conversation, so she used their mutual grandfather as a shield.

Achilles looked deeply at Mi’er, then turned to Cheng pensively and replied,

“Let’s go together, we’ll have dinner together tonight.

I haven’t been back here for a while, ah, grandfather has been gone for ten years now, time flies.”

Even now, as a super wealthy man, Cheng occasionally envied the old-money families like the Carama’s.

Super luxurious and modernized castles, just standing there, maintenance staff and servants earning salaries for doing nothing, and they did not care.

“No, eleven years.”

Mi’er’s correction caused Achilles a bit of embarrassment.

He laughed it off and turned the conversation towards Cheng, saying with amusement,

“Chan, are you here to enjoy an early honeymoon?”

The elder uncle liked to pressure them about marriage; from Achilles’ perspective, once Mi’er was married, she would completely lose any chance to cause trouble for him.

“No, business trip, and then accompanying Mi’er to rest in Greece.”

The raven-haired giant fell silent for a moment, not pressing Cheng for further details, instead, he casually inquired,

“Any insights from the inspection?

I’m looking forward to you sharing something interesting; after all, a smart young man always has more creativity than middle-aged people like me.”

He understood humor, and this cold joke was as chilled as they come.

Cheng Daqi, however, managed to smile and started talking about his experiences in France.

“The most profound impression was from France; their Left-Wing Party has been governing for many years, is there influence from America in this?”

Cheng Daqi didn’t state his view but instead asked a question first.

“Yes, the CIA hasn’t been idle in stirring things up in Europe, but America doesn’t have the power to directly interfere with the change of government parties, it’s mostly capitalists and institutions that guide things behind the scenes.”

There was interference, but not much; Achilles seemed quite candid.

Most of the Green Party in Europe and various NGOs largely have America’s shadow behind them; by stirring Europe into chaos, they can make these allies more obedient.

“The right-wing forces in France are now gaining significant momentum; in my assessment, the right-wing will grow to challenge the French political situation in the next few years.”

The right-wing can simply be understood as populist; in a region like France, traditionally left-leaning, for the right-wing to gain momentum is actually very difficult.

Extreme-left, center-left, left-leaning, left-leaning neutral, left-right mix are the majorities in France.

“Do you think this is a good or bad thing for us?

You know what I mean,” Achilles continued to ask, he had a testing undertone.