Chapter 949: The Power of 1.5 Billion Silver Coins

Chapter 949: The Power of 1.5 Billion Silver Coins

Thanks to the massive sales of the two-wheeler, Lasov's factory finally resumed production.

Though the promised canteen was gone, every young man along the Ravenka River still thought him a good man and, letting bygones be bygones, praised Mr. Lasov's generosity.

After all, this generous tycoon from Golden Gallon Port had given them a 20% discount on the bicycles sold to his employees, and even allowed them to lock their precious rides in the spare warehouse to keep them safe from bike thieves from other tribes, returning them at the end of the shift with fresh oil applied.

Whether the oil was actually applied, they didn't know, but at least there was a repairman sitting at the warehouse door watching over them.

Of course, if these lads ever learned that the wholesale price of a bicycle originally priced at 200 silver coins was only 30 silver coins, the next time a mob got trapped in the factory, it wouldn't be the Wilant people but the Boro people.

But they would never know.

After all, Lasov and the others from the Industrial and Commercial Federation had already agreed to set guide prices for several specific categories of goods.

Everyone makes money together; Boro people don't cheat Boro people—no one would ever start a price war.

Selling bicycles was just a minor episode.

Lasov didn't linger on making quick money. After sending off the bicycle master who had earned a fat bonus, he threw all his energy back into his own trade.

The first order came quickly. The client was a traveling merchant from Eternal Night Port named Meta.

This man was generous, placing an order of 5 million at 10% above the market price.

At the dinner table, Lasov studied him, feeling he seemed less like a merchant and more like a warlord's broker.

Sure enough, after three glasses of vodka, the fellow named Meta casually revealed his affiliation with the Family Council.

Lasov offered a stream of flattery, expressing his admiration for the Family Council with a few cheap pleasantries, but inwardly he didn't take it seriously.

His clients included General Jeha from Tiger Province and the head of the Black Panther Army; compared to them, a lackey of a "little brother's little brother" from Abusek wasn't someone he'd treat as a true hero.

A merchant, after all, navigates between various powers—just mind the etiquette and get the deal done.

He didn't care who became the Grand Commander; they were all equally foolish anyway. To truly save the Boro people, it would have to be up to industrialists like himself.

At least, that was his view.

While Lasov was observing this Blue Family member, Meta, seated at the table, was observing him in return.

Compared to the former's rich inner monologue, the latter's assessment was far more incisive and ruthless.

This man was a pure soul.

Or rather, a simple one.

Knowing he had found the right person, Meta set down his wine glass, a warm smile on his face, as if facing his own kin.

"Our Family Council and your Federation are one family. With victories on the front lines, the war is nearly over. Industrialists like you are exactly what we need—what the families need. We'd like to invite you to set up a factory in Snake Province. What do you think?"

This casual compliment was far more effective than any flattery, and it didn't seem forced.

To be fair, Lasov did fall for it, though he wasn't blinded by vanity.

Setting up a factory in Snake Province...

That would require more money than one knew what to do with.

He'd rather donate money and goods—that would be good for everyone.

"Setting up a factory isn't so easy. It requires local infrastructure and industrial support. You can't just move the machines over and have the factory running."

Seeing Meta about to press further, he smiled and continued.

"But don't worry. Though my factory is overseas, when the Boro Province needs me, I won't hesitate to help!"

He spoke diplomatically, leaving room to maneuver. The man across from him looked troubled but indeed dropped the factory topic.

Yet he didn't realize he had already fallen into a trap.

Meta knew full well what Snake Province was like.

He had never expected to actually persuade this big boss to go there; he was just testing the waters.

His real aim was to retreat in order to advance, getting this passionate industrialist to do another favor for him.

"We understand your difficulties. I was rash to bring up the factory—forget I said anything."

Meta toasted him and downed his drink.

Feeling a bit guilty for refusing such a warm invitation, Lasov softened his tone.

"It's not that I don't want to build up my homeland. But even the best cook can't make porridge from stones. I alone can't do much. Still, it's not entirely hopeless. For instance, I think Lion Province has a decent industrial foundation. When the time is right, I'll go there for an inspection."

Meta smiled.

"No problem! We'll give you a grand welcome then!"

Lasov smiled but said nothing, clearly not believing the Family Council had that authority, though he didn't show it.

Meta paused, then continued.

"Let's set aside the factory for now... By the way, I hear the Ravenka Industrial Zone has the Southern Legion's armored production line. Could you find a way to get us the blueprints for the Conqueror X?"

Lasov was taken aback, hesitating for a moment.

"That... would be quite difficult, I'm afraid."

He had thought about it before, but only in his fantasies.

Though it wasn't top-secret, the Ravenka Industrial Zone Autonomous Committee hadn't said it was free for the taking.

His business was doing well; he didn't want to take such a big risk.

Whether legal or reputational.

This time, Meta didn't back down. He looked at Lasov earnestly.

"Please, this is very important to us! We know you're an industrialist who loves his homeland. We only ask you to help us with this one thing. We won't treat you poorly. Tell us any difficulties, and we'll solve them!"

With things said to this extent, and having already refused them once, Lasov hesitated, sighed, and said.

"Let me think... The blueprints might be tough. The Federation has some sway in the Autonomous Committee, but our cause is just starting—we don't carry much weight yet."

"Give me some time on the blueprints. However, there's a batch of nearly finished tanks on the production line. If you're interested, you could buy those. I've checked—they're assets approved for sale by the Autonomous Committee and the Development Foundation."

Meta's eyes lit up with joy.

"Could you introduce me to the person in charge?"

Lasov smiled.

"No problem. That's a small matter. I can handle it directly for you."

Meta raised his glass again, drank heartily, then looked at him solemnly.

"We will never forget your kindness today... And please keep an eye on the blueprints. Whether for entertaining guests or other expenses, we'll cover whatever it costs."

Lasov quickly replied.

"You're too kind. Let me also contribute to the Boro people's cause!"

Meta shook his head.

"That's a matter of principle. Mr. Zaid said we come to benefit our families—we must not let our families spend a single coin more."

Watching this ambitious man, Rasov couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

Truly, comparing people drives you mad, comparing goods makes you want to throw them away.

If only the esteemed Grand Leader had such grace, perhaps the Heavenly Capital Federation wouldn't be laughed at as a "wife-less wife cake" by so many...

...

Meanwhile, on the other side, after obtaining permission from the Alliance's representative, Hope immediately began sweeping reforms. He urged the Autonomous Committee to draft plans while injecting 700 million silver coins to establish the Ravenca Industrial Zone Development Bank to coordinate with the committee's bidding.

In some matters, those who control money are indeed more motivated than those who control power.

Antoine was the type who wouldn't act without the Alliance representative's nod, but Hope was not only quick-witted but also efficient. In just three days, he finished a week's work and presented a development blueprint at the second meeting that left no room for rebuttal.

In his blueprint, the banks of the Ravenca River would be filled with skyscrapers, stretching along the highway from the industrial zone into the Great Wasteland, using visible achievements to attract all wastelanders envious of their prosperity to join their ranks.

And the railway network across that 2.7 million square kilometers of land would become the backbone of their grand ambitions, with a steady stream of resources supporting their cause to end the Wasteland Era.

Though it was an economic work meeting, Hope had a flash of inspiration and even drafted an action plan, integrating it with the Alliance's initiatives.

Fang Chang didn't care about the pies this guy was painting; he only watched what he actually did.

At least for now, his abilities were worthy of recognition.

Although completing the entire blueprint with only 700 million silver coins was far from enough, money had a snowball effect.

As long as the money wasn't thrown away but used to buy something or turned into something, it could be used as collateral for further loans from the Alliance's banks.

This was a very basic operation.

After all, the Alliance's banks had to pay interest to depositors, pay interest on wealth management products, and repay their own interest. The money in their hands had to go somewhere.

If the Ravenca Industrial Zone had good investment targets, they wouldn't mind lending money to let their own snowball roll along.

Hope had planned everything, except for one thing his deputy raised an objection to.

"This is a grand plan, but it will also bring a huge wealth gap... You and I both know what the locals are like. They might run because of your plan, but by the time they come to their senses, they might already be several laps behind the Vellant. And at that point, what if the Workers' Brotherhood shows up?"

His name was Nash, a Vellant like President Hope, and he agreed with Hope's "Eternal Night Port Model."

But agreement aside, he had to consider the potential problems of that model.

For Nash's objection, Hope had already thought of a countermeasure and said with confidence.

"As long as we don't make the locals too poor, they won't be able to do anything even if they come. Golden Gallon Port is the best example."

Nash smiled bitterly upon hearing this.

"Not making the locals too poor... Unless we confiscate their bank cards, even if you give them money for free, it's useless. They'll spend it all the next day."

"We do need to give them money, but we can't let them have cash. Use your brain, Mr. Nash. We're working for the Alliance now; we can't be as rigid as before."

Hope tapped his temple with his index finger, then pointed out the window at the endless oasis.

This was the only oasis for a hundred miles, with a winding river turning sharply from the northwest to the south, flowing through a rugged alluvial plain into the sea.

"There will be tall buildings there. We'll take the lion's share and live in the tallest and biggest houses, then give the second-tier houses to the natives, making them our moat—rise together, fall together."

"You mean... compensate them with fixed assets instead of cash?" Nash frowned, puzzled. "But what if they just sell the houses?"

"Trust me, no one sells assets that keep rising in value. And in this process, wealth and poverty can coexist," Hope said with a smile, patting his shoulder. "As long as survivors from the Great Wasteland keep pouring into our settlements, we can keep this positive cycle going, letting more animals into our farms. As for execution details, we can set some restrictions on transaction thresholds—that can be adjusted."

"Anyway, our primary task is one thing—make the animals run!"

Nash stared blankly at Hope, unable to imagine that this former little accountant could think of so many things, and that the Southern Legion had completely missed his talent before.

Was this the power of 1.5 billion silver coins?

Compared to Hope, who seemed pumped full of aphrodisiacs, former District Chief Antoine, who couldn't even raise his hand, was like a castrated rooster. Perhaps soon the Autonomous Committee would become a puppet of "the ambitious Mr. Hope."

Maybe this wasn't the Golden Gallon Port model or the Eternal Night Port model, but the early Free State model.

But regardless of the model, the entire Autonomous Committee agreed on one thing.

If they didn't want the "wild animals" here to become prey for outsiders, they had to make them run.

"...You don't need to think about that far ahead now; that's my concern."

Hope patted Nash's shoulder and handed him a document.

"There are a hundred Conqueror tanks here. If not for the Alliance's planes, they'd almost be on the front lines... According to the Alliance engineers, selling them as tanks is better than scrapping them for iron. A quote above 30 million silver coins is reasonable."

"The war in the Boro Province isn't over yet; General Gurion is still fighting desperately. The Alliance has only one requirement: they can't be sold to the Southern Legion. That means we can sell them to any client except the Southern Legion. Find a buyer while the war's still on—let me see what you've got."

Would anyone want a loser's tanks?

Nash thought to himself, but still nodded seriously.

"I'll do my best to sell them."

...

Capacity transformation and clearing backlogged inventory were the two most urgent tasks for the Ravenca Industrial Zone.

As for how to divide the 2.7 million square kilometers of land and whether to merge the Ravenca Industrial Zone with Eternal Night Port, those could be studied slowly after the war ended.

Nash took the list Hope gave him and went to the warehouse. Looking at the unwanted junk, he worried about where to find a sucker willing to shell out 30 million silver coins for these things.

He had met representatives from the Boro Kingdom and the Mammoth Kingdom, but unlike Hope's assumption, those two weren't fools. As if by agreement, they said they wouldn't continue arms purchases and were instead interested in the outdated production lines.

The Ravenca Industrial Zone was indeed interested in transferring those outdated capacities, but that wasn't Nash's business, so he had to reluctantly introduce those representatives to the person in charge.

But just as he was worrying, a Boro person from the Industrial and Commercial Federation came to him and introduced a mysterious buyer.

This person not only took all the equipment without question but also offered terms that made his jaw drop—

They were willing to buy all the tanks at 10% above market price.

As long as the Ravenca Autonomous Committee could provide the relevant technology for producing the Conqueror 10 tank.

Nash agreed almost without thinking.

No kidding.

The entire Legion had gone to hell; he had no obligation to take their secrets to the grave.

Not to mention that these people were enemies of General Gurion!

Without any hesitation, he stamped the documents and personally went to the factory site to receive this generous buyer.

And while Nash was cheerfully introducing the Southern Legion's "doomsday weapons" to Meta, the Vellant engineers in the nearby factories were curiously watching the commotion.

"Who's that guy? Looks like a big deal."

The business owners from the Industrial and Commercial Federation had all gone to cheer him on, and from Nash's attitude, he seemed ready to roll out a red carpet at the factory gate to welcome him.

An engineer under Rasov, smoking a cigarette, squinted and said.

"That guy's called Meta. I hear he's from the Family Association."

An engineer from the tank assembly plant nearby looked at him blankly.

"Family Association? What the hell?"

Rasov's engineer explained.

"It's the Family Association, little brother of Abusek's little brother, a branch of a branch of the Federation. It's complicated to explain... Just think of it that way."

An engineer from the aluminum plant frowned and asked.

"What is he here for?"

The engineer from Lasov explained.

"They want to buy back the finished Conqueror X tanks in bulk, to use against Gurion."

He didn't care who those tanks were used against; after all, he no longer made armor steel but had switched to producing gas cylinders.

As for why he knew so much about the Family Society's affairs, it was mainly because that Meta kept visiting their factory, cozying up to their boss, and then ingratiating himself with them, always hinting that the Family Society was good and trying to lure them to Snake Island.

But he wasn't stupid—how could he be led by the nose by a Boro man with just a few words?

As a Vellant, he knew all too well what his compatriots had done in the Boro Province.

He had reason to believe that what happened once in the Ravencar Industrial Zone could very well happen again in West Sailport, and this time there would be no Alliance people to save them.

He wasn't the only one thinking this; his boss also scared them privately, hinting that the Boro Province was full of hungry wolves waiting to devour them.

He could see his boss wanted to cozy up to that Meta, but that didn't mean his boss was generous enough to empty his own pockets.

This steel mill was his boss's wallet, and it was visibly turning into a cash cow.

After hearing his explanation, the group of engineers all laughed in unison.

"Is this guy crazy?"

"Do they even need this to fight Gurion?"

"By the time these tanks reach them, they probably won't even have learned how to drive them before the war is over."

The engineer from Lasov also laughed.

"Who cares what they think? Anyway, they're offering a high enough price—1.1 million per tank, 100,000 above market value, and they agree to pay in silver coins. Since we were just going to convert them into tractors anyway, might as well sell them to them. The money from selling them is enough to buy three tractors."

In fact, it was more than three.

The Alliance had cheap tractors, costing less than 50,000 silver coins, the early wood-burning type, and also the best-selling model in the wasteland.

One Conqueror X could sell for 1.1 million silver coins...

A hundred of them... wouldn't that be over a hundred million silver coins?!

Where did a small local power get so much money?!

Everyone did the math and was stunned.

The engineer from the aluminum plant swallowed his saliva, looking incredulous.

"Where did they get all that money?!"

The engineer from Lasov shook his head, looking unconcerned.

"Who knows, who cares? Maybe it's savings from trade, or maybe other Boro people donated it. Anyway, they're dead set on getting these Conqueror X tanks. Maybe there are other deals behind it."

Watching that Boro man standing straight-backed before Vice Chairman Nash, pointing and gesturing, the group of Vellant engineers shook their heads, sighed, and murmured.

Times had truly changed.

The engineer from the aluminum plant was green with envy, suddenly feeling motivated to make money.

"Damn, they're so rich..."

As the crowd was talking, Blue Family Meta and Vice Chairman Nash had already completed the transaction—cash for goods.

The two had moved from the factory to the dinner table, and the former was showing off his drinking capacity to the latter.

Those invited to the banquet included not only the officials of the Ravencar Industrial Zone Development Foundation involved in the arms sales contract, but also the foreign workers and engineers who usually couldn't get a seat at the table.

Most of these workers with core technical skills were not local natives but survivors from the Bartoya Province who had followed the Vellants to the banks of the Ravencar River.

But as Meta put it, everyone was a citizen of the Human Federation two hundred years ago—all one family.

That statement wasn't wrong.

Though the Vellants had never seen the Age of Prosperity, their bloodline was also a product of Human Federation-era technology, and that was what they were most proud of.

Unlike the proud Vellants, the foreign workers were moved to tears.

Oppressed by the Vellants all along, when had they ever felt such respect?

Not only did they not feel it, even the ordinary Vellants of the Southern Legion didn't feel it themselves.

And so, after a few glasses of vodka, one by one they patted their chests and promised to teach the Family Society's technical personnel everything they knew, passing on the technology for producing and maintaining the Conqueror X without reservation.

After all, it was useless to them now; better to let the Boro people take it and defeat General Gurion, atoning for their past sins as accomplices to the invaders.

In fact, the carrier of a great technology was never a few thin blueprints, but the people who mastered those core technologies.

These things couldn't be taught in a few words or with a hard drive, unless a group of people wholeheartedly and unreservedly taught another group.

Seeing those generous workers, Meta was moved to tears at the banquet, downing his vodka in one gulp.

Whether or not he would acknowledge this debt later, he had finally gotten what he wanted, and the Ravencar Autonomous Committee had gotten the money they desperately needed.

The deal was done, and both sides were pleased. Meta even started eyeing the shallow-water heavy gunboats.

But curry had to be eaten one bite at a time; too much at once would burn the mouth and alert some people...

At that moment, the wave of capacity transformation and massive infrastructure construction in the Ravencar Industrial Zone was in full swing, while the war at the front continued.

After a month of fierce fighting, the Enterprise's 100th and 101st Divisions had finally dealt a heavy blow to the Southern Legion's frontline forces, and after a three-day siege, annihilated the Southern Legion's 177th Ten-Thousand-Man Corps.

This unit seemed to have been newly formed; from officers to enlisted men, the average age was no more than eighteen, and there were even children of eleven or twelve.

Vellants were born warriors; a twelve-year-old could already carry a rifle and was no less capable than a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old wastelander.

Looking at those grimy, head-down youths squatting in the corner, Tang Feng, with a Rick Five cigarette dangling from his lips, felt a complex mix of emotions.

Now a battalion commander, he was no longer the rookie who was both green and eager to show off.

Seeing these young lads, he couldn't help but think of himself on Ten Peaks Mountain.

The deputy battalion commander walked up to him, squinting at the prisoners squatting by the wall.

"Their Julius turned them into humans, and they turned themselves back."

Tang Feng shook his head.

"I don't think it's their fault. The fault lies with those who brainwashed the children."

Without arguing the point, the deputy battalion commander got straight to the point.

"What do we do with them?"

Tang Feng thought for a moment.

"Send them by train to the Ravencar Industrial Zone. Our allies seem to be doing well there."

That was also the command's suggestion.

This 2.7 million square kilometer colony was sparsely populated; setting up a POW camp on the spot would be like leaving them to fend for themselves.

The deputy battalion commander smiled.

"Indeed, better to leave it to the Alliance people to handle. They're best at this."

With that, half of the Southern Legion's 2.7 million square kilometer colony had been liberated. The coalition forces had pushed to the equator and were about to enter the Northern Hemisphere.

This was a narrow strip of territory along the coastline, supported by the South Sea Alliance fleet offshore, with roaring fighter jets overhead—they were virtually invincible.

However, seeing those young and inexperienced faces, Tang Feng felt not a trace of joy in his heart.

He only wanted to quickly fight his way to the homeland of the Southern Legion and end this insane war...

As time passed day by day, soon it was the end of December.

It was at this juncture between the years 214 and 215 of the Wasteland Era that a conference destined to decide the future of the wasteland commenced at the Great Rift.

Attending the conference were not only the Academy's Chief Technology Officer, the representatives appointed by the Council, the administrators of the Alliance, but also the Archon of Triumph City, and the leaders of various survivor factions.

The Great Rift promised to guarantee the safety of all parties involved and provided transportation services for those survivor faction leaders or foreign ministers who found it inconvenient to travel to the Great Rift on their own.

This conference should have been convened three months ago, but it had been postponed for too long due to various reasons.

Now, at last, there was no further delay...