Darkstone Code

Chapter 1254 - 1252: Straight Punch

Lynch was someone who was very good with words.

Back in that small place, someone had asked him how he managed to get in; after all, anyone who could get in had to be exceptional in some way.

Some people came from very good families, only to take a wrong turn halfway through.

Some were born very smart and could easily deduce how events would unfold.

Some were gifted at imitation; no matter who, or what, they could mimic it with ease.

Someone felt Lynch was utterly unremarkable and asked him what he was good at.

He told that person he was best at persuading others.

After Lynch’s little speech, the new-generation nobles were full of confidence; they chatted merrily, and everyone looked perfectly relaxed.

But Lynch knew all of this was an illusion; they had already acquired the most basic trait of a noble, and that was "to act."

Not easily showing your emotions on your face or in your eyes could be called the most basic, and also the most essential, skill of a noble.

They might be able to fool themselves, but they couldn’t fool Lynch; clearly at a time when they ought to be tense, they all looked so carefree—that was far too fake.

And this was also where these new-generation nobles were still somewhat immature—

You can’t always let others see only your carefully crafted, beautiful side; sometimes you also have to let people witness your true face!

Fake things, at certain moments, even if they’re exactly the same as the real, still lack that sense of reality and the impact that reality brings!

Lynch held his wineglass and watched everyone acting; he was waiting, waiting for a phone call.

As evening drew near and it was almost time for dinner, just when everyone was starting to feel a bit tired, the phone suddenly rang.

The somewhat noisy room fell silent in an instant; the young Count glanced at Lynch, and the latter gave a slight nod.

He took a deep breath and picked up the phone. "This is...," he announced his name.

In fact, he didn’t need to do that; would the person dialing this number not know whose hand the call would ultimately end up in?

No, they knew.

Announcing his own name was, in a certain sense, his way of affirming himself; it was a very particular and very complex state of mind.

On the other end of the line was the Duke of Phoenix.

"Your opponent has refused to negotiate. As for what happens between the two of you, I won’t interfere anymore."

"But I have to warn you, don’t go too far. I’ve said the same thing to the other side."

"Everything else, I’ll leave you to settle on your own!"

With that, the Duke hung up; he felt irritated.

At such a critical juncture, a whole bunch of people were actually thinking about infighting. Once they overthrew the Imperial Family’s rule, he was definitely going to reorganize the Noble Group from top to bottom.

As for the old nobles’ side... he was very displeased with them as well. That was an old noble house with a long family history, yet when facing some minor problems they were displaying such childish decision-making.

Decades without conflict among nobles seemed to have made some people degenerate.

True nobility has never been something conferred as a favor by the Imperial Family!

And a conferment granted as a favor by the Imperial Family can never be true nobility!

If you just trace history, you’ll find that none of those hereditary nobles were easy to mess with.

Every family’s ancestors commanded large forces and held vast territories, to the point that the Emperor felt threatened and had no choice but to grant them even more privileges to placate them.

Entities like Grand Duchies and Duchies—these "states within a state"—make the situation even clearer.

Perhaps it was time to wake those people up a bit, to stir what was buried deep in their bones!

On the other side, the young Count was not surprised at all by this outcome; this was exactly what they’d been hoping for.

Rather than wait until, after toppling the Imperial Family, the nobles of the Secretariat advanced from the Main Island toward Amelia carrying the posture and momentum of victors, to fight an unfair "war" against them,

it was better to rely on the Imperial Family’s help while those people had not yet secured victory. Even if they couldn’t completely suppress these old-line nobles, they had to at least make the other side feel their tenacity and their resolve to fight to defend their own power!

A noble produced a document and spread it out on the table. It was a map of the Imperial Capital, with various shops and symbols marked, and letters in different colors to distinguish their functions.

A map like this was something ordinary people could never get their hands on!

"Here, and here, here and here are all their main businesses, especially this place...," that noble said, pointing at a blue building near the center of the Imperial Capital.

"This is the financial company owned by the old Count’s family, on the third floor; the first and second floors are their leather-goods store..."

Leatherwork in Gafura is not regarded as a "lowly" trade; it was the same in the Middle Ages and even in antiquity. You could say that leatherwork in ancient times was a thoroughly upper-class occupation, and those engaged in it were the envy of many.

Back then there were very few people who knew how to tan leather, and even fewer who could turn leather into finished goods; in an era of constant war, good leather gear was extremely important equipment.

In a certain myth, a Divine King was reborn into human society, and before he had awakened his own Divine Power, his parents spent a small fortune to send him to learn the leatherworker’s craft, making him a cobbler!

In Gafura, a set of high-end formal wear could easily cost two or three thousand, and that’s just the more ordinary kind.

A single pair of fine riding boots alone might cost over ten thousand!

A leather goods shop plus a finance company—this was enough to cause at least a loss of over a million, and would definitely make them feel the pain for a while!

"What we’re doing is revenge, not slaughter."

"Rush in, drive everyone out first, make sure there’s no one left inside, then set the place on fire!"

Lynch watched these nobles laying out their action plan; in fact, the young Count’s idea was simply to light one big fire and burn the whole place down with the people inside!

He was still young, and having such thoughts wasn’t surprising at all; he was at the age when one is easily impulsive and burns with a fierce desire for revenge.

Lynch was no young man; he knew very well how vast the difference was between having deaths and having none.

One is irreparable; the other, it’s easy to find a way to excuse.

He pointed out a few people, and they all nodded in agreement.

This wasn’t a one-man job, it was a group effort; from the first move they needed to put massive pressure on the other side, make them feel that "if we don’t find someone to help us, we’re definitely going to lose."

Only then would the fighting group continue to expand, eventually influencing more than half the Secretariat!

And only in that way could the Imperial Family and the Royalist Sect end up standing with them and providing them with even more favorable conditions!

Then Lynch looked at the young Count. "You take some people and block their men; arrange for a few people to carry pistols, but the ones with pistols are not to fight."

"They’re only there as a contingency."

"Have the others carry sticks; use sticks to deal with our enemies. As long as you don’t kill anyone, everything else is not a problem..."

One item after another, Lynch arranged every last detail properly, he even assigned people to steal a boat!

Yes, Kipling had stolen the boat; now what the young Count had to do was take it back, with interest!

In the end, Lynch looked at these people who could barely contain themselves anymore and smiled as he said to them, "One last thing for everyone—hoist the banners. From today on, we’re going to make the Main Island, and even the whole world, recognize us!"

"This is our era!"

A little after six in the evening, it was the peak of rush hour; even with a cold wave sweeping in, the streets were still full of people hurrying home.

After an exhausting day’s work, at this moment more than any other they were craving crispy, browned chips, juicy fish fillets, and that first sip of beer that lets a person completely relax!

No one wanted to linger on the road for even a single extra second!

Just then, seven or eight cars pulled up fast outside a brightly lit leather goods shop, and right after that, a large crowd poured out of the vehicles.

They were all wearing black cloaks with hoods, their faces indistinguishable in the dark. They held clubs in their hands, moving quickly and forcefully as they went straight for the leather shop.

From the moment the first pane of glass was smashed, everyone along the street was stunned!

This was probably the first time most people had seen such a brazen act of violence; those men in black beat the staff and customers with clubs, driving people out...

One staffer rushed into a phone booth by the roadside, his body trembling slightly.

He had only been pitching a set of tack worth nearly a hundred thousand—saddle, barding, chamfron, bridle and so on—to two customers, when a group burst in and beat not just him but the customers as well with their clubs.

He suspected his arm had been broken; he couldn’t lift his left hand at all, and his body was shaking from fear.

He clamped the receiver between his head and shoulder and hurriedly dialed the Police Station, but just as the call connected, a hand suddenly pressed down on the switch hook!

The voice on the other end of the line instantly vanished!

He turned around trembling, and only felt something strike his head; in an instant, he lost consciousness.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he came to; the heavy blow to his head had briefly robbed him of his sense of balance.

Supporting himself on the phone booth, he staggered to his feet. Before he could even make sense of his surroundings, all of his attention was seized by the pillar of flame roaring outside the booth!

The raging fire was devouring his workplace, the place he had gone to that morning; tongues of flame licked out of every window, as if molesting the world itself!

The water from the fire engines’ hoses seemed useless in the face of such a terrifying blaze, and the people at the roadside just stood there, blank and stupefied, watching it.

Watching the fire grow larger and larger, watching it burn everything away.

A peculiar smell filled the air, somewhat acrid—that was the smell of money!

If this great fire brought anything positive to people, it might be the warmth it gave off as it burned, making it feel as if the temperature in the area had risen by several degrees!