Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

After speaking with Wayne, he realized his understanding had some flaws, but wasn't entirely wrong either. Wayne didn't want to see Rhine Lab go under, but to him, a slight setback for Rhine Lab didn't seem like a bad thing. Chianti sensed that Wayne's schemes were far larger than he had imagined. But to her, none of that mattered anymore.

"Consider yourselves lucky, Rhine Lab. Since that person is still standing behind you, I probably won't see your death date. But don't relax. Your first test will come soon. The enemy is half of Columbia. If you can't even get through this, then it's uncertain whether that person will continue to favor you."

Henry chuckled coldly, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

Yes, who could have imagined that Rhine Labs had such a powerful figure standing behind it all? Even if it fell, Rhine Labs could still be reborn if that blond boy wanted to. But what about himself? Apart from receiving a sum of money from him and a promise to live in Victoria under the guise of political asylum for the rest of his life, his political career was over.

He's now like the "Snowden" that Wayne mentioned. His job is simply to carry out the tasks Wayne assigned him.

Wayne told him three things in total.

First, let's remind Rhine Life of the crisis they are about to face.

Second, write a list of evidence and a guarantee by hand, and sign it.

Third, in the future, we will work together to complete an exclusive interview with him.

The first matter concerns Wayne's plans. The second is likely that His Highness Wayne wants to leave a safeguard, as the Victorians value contracts highly, and breaking a contract, especially one with the Aslan royal family, would mean certain death. However, there's no need to worry about that; once he embarks on this path, he has no intention of turning back. The third matter is that so-called exclusive interview…

To be honest, Chianti had a strange sense of unease. He had a feeling that this interview... might very well be given to a mysterious man who had recently risen to fame across the entire Terra—[Joseph Pulitzer].

This person is dangerous.

He has been ranked four stars on the Colombian Federal Congress's list of dangerous elements, second only to the leaders of major powers, and on par with small countries like Minoan and Bolivar. Every report he touches is explosive news, and he himself has been labeled a messenger of justice, hailed by countless netizens as "the conscience of Terra."

If Wayne ultimately hands this interview over to a Pulitzer journalist, wouldn't that prove a terrifying fact—that Victoria and Pulitzer had a long-standing connection? Or perhaps, that Pulitzer was actually cultivated by Victoria, a peerless weapon used to dominate the media arena?

Then the Federal Parliament's previous assessment of the relationship between the Pulitzer journalist and Victoria was completely wrong! Has Victoria really gone so far as to sacrifice a duke to cultivate a pawn in secret?

This answer was somewhat chilling. In the past, Chianti might have immediately reported it to the Federal Parliament to gain political capital. But now…

Screw him! First he betrayed Victoria, then he betrayed himself. The more ungrateful Columbia, who grew up from betrayal, the better he dies!

Chianti's lips curled into a cruel smile. He glanced at Director Henry, who seemed on the verge of exploding, and shook his head helplessly.

This person has the means, but his vision is too shallow. He has lived for fifty years but his vision is still limited to the business world. Little does he know that in Colombia, a country controlled by monopolies, the business world is a battlefield and a political arena.

However, he had fulfilled his duty to provide the reminder. What happened to Rhine Lab next was no longer his concern as a former member of parliament.

"I hope you are well, Mr. Henry. I won't stay here any longer and pollute your eyes."

With a wave, Chianti turned and walked out the door.

Chapter Forty-Two: The Myriad Aspects of Life

“Mr. Henry, this is Rhine Life’s letter of termination.”

"Based on the assessment of the interim board, due to your mistakes, Rhine Life suffered heavy losses at this technology expo and is about to face bankruptcy reorganization. We have to make this regrettable decision - dismissing you is our last act of mercy."

"Farewell, Mr. Henry."

July 7, 1092, Colombia: Today is destined to be an extraordinary day.

Henry clutched a document in his hand, a dismissal letter handed to him by senior management of Rhine Life at the last minute. This letter, given to him by his closest friend on the board, was his final act.

Henry's mind replayed the events of that time. His face was filled with incredulous shock; his beard trembled, his teeth chattered, and when he heard that ninety percent of the shareholders were completely unconcerned about losses and defaults, choosing to withdraw all their shares, he almost collapsed, his legs giving way beneath him. He slumped back into his office chair, barely managing to lean on the desk in front of him as he asked:

"Didn't you stop them?"

“I tried to stop it, but what was the use? I have money, but can I fill the 90% gap in Rhine Life’s suddenly missing shares all by myself? Besides, how could so many shareholders withdraw their investment at the same time? Think about it, Henry, there must be someone behind them directing them.”

test?

Henry suddenly remembered the word Chianti had used.

Is this what they call a "test"? But if so, this test is far too much. Everyone knows the critical juncture Rhine Life Sciences is currently facing. A large amount of money has been invested in Project Savior, leaving Rhine Life Sciences with already stretched thin funds. And now, a new batch of inhibitors hasn't even officially hit the market. In this gap, Rhine Life Sciences has suddenly been drained of its resources. What will it face next?

The cash flow dried up, production was forced to stop, orders were defaulted on, huge default penalties were imposed, and in the end, the company was left hanging on an ever-increasing pile of debt.

Henry was momentarily dazed. He couldn't understand why, just yesterday he had stood confidently in Rhine Life's headquarters expressing his dissatisfaction to Chianti, he was now experiencing Chianti's feelings. Who was behind all this, and what benefit would Rhine Life's collapse bring him?

Weren't they doing good deeds? Why were they betrayed?

He tried to find Senator Chianti, only to learn that the senator had been deported and his whereabouts were currently unknown. The last person who might know the truth had also left. What should he do now? What could he possibly do?

A man wanders aimlessly through the streets of Colombia’s dream city, each step treading on shattered dreams.

The sky gradually darkened, thick clouds obscuring the heavens. Long-awaited raindrops pattered against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the high-rise buildings, blurring the neon lights and painting the earth with a hazy, multicolored glow. Henry stood on the street, watching hurried pedestrians rush past, each face contorted with rage, as if stopping for even a second would be a sin.

Cars honked their horns and sped past, followed by a strange scream from near the station. It turned out that rainwater mixed with mud had been splashed by the wheels, hitting the girl's coat. The man standing next to her seemed indifferent, completely ignoring her complaints and questions, until her incessant chatter finally annoyed him. He reluctantly put down his phone, glanced at the girl, and dismissively called her stupid.

Henry, wearing glasses, silently watched this scene, leaving the platform space to the seemingly unrelated couple, and waited for the bus in the rain. His face was full of fatigue, whether from pulling several all-nighters for work this month or simply from the weariness caused by the sudden change in circumstances, it was hard to tell.

The school bell rang in the distance, signaling the end of get out of class. He gazed into the distance, but not a single student emerged from the classroom. The blurry figure of the teacher remained on the podium, striving for the three minutes he had painstakingly pieced together. He suddenly remembered a few days earlier when he had hosted a group of students from Columbia University visiting the Science and Technology Expo. Henry had smiled and asked the dusty-faced boy from the countryside why he had come to the City of Dreams, what extraordinary dream he harbored. The boy hesitated for a long time before finally shouting out his dream: he vowed never to be like his parents, spending his entire life toiling in the fields.

He and the other students in the class burst into laughter, and he told them with a righteous expression that there was nothing wrong with being a farmer, and that people who spend their whole lives working the land are the greatest people in this country.

Were those words spoken from the heart back then? Henry couldn't tell, but only now did he realize his own hypocrisy. He had indeed mocked a child's dream, and now he understood the child's determination when speaking of it, that refusal to submit, that will to change fate. He found himself unable to even reach that level of youthful resolve; after falling from the upper class overnight, he couldn't even muster the thought of climbing back up.

He looked at the advertisement posted on the station platform. A small company was hiring a typist, offering a monthly salary of only 10,000 LMD, which was equivalent to a little over 2,000 to less than 3,000 Colombian dollars. With such a meager salary, he estimated that it would take at least ten years to buy a decent house in Silicon Valley.

Even with job postings like this, he'd seen countless people pass by, then turn back, jot down a phone number, and hurry away. Henry recognized the longing in their eyes; they were eager for the job. But to maintain a semblance of decorum, each muttered something like, "I told you it's pointless, but you insisted on writing it down," using fabricated excuses of friend pressure to ease their embarrassment. They simply didn't want to call the company in public.

Henry couldn't help but give a wry smile. He'd been tricked, tricked indeed.

This concrete jungle has never been a city of dreams; it has presented the wildest side of capitalism to everyone in the most rudimentary way. The law of the jungle has never gone away; the truth of the survival of the fittest is being played out again and again on this land. Only now, the predators have changed from beasts to capitalists, and the tools of predation have changed from sharp teeth and claws to exploitation and oppression.

Only when people truly see the real face of this city will they lament why things are different from what was advertised.

Everyone is busy making a living, everyone bows their heads in prayer, everyone is covered in wounds, everyone is all show and no substance. The clatter of gold coins against banknotes and the wails in the factory, the replay of the high-spirited opening ceremony speech of the technology expo on the high-rise building, and the middle-aged man soaking wet in front of the train station.

"Mr. Henry, it's clear you're not in a good mood right now?"

A deep voice came from behind him. Henry turned around and stood in front of him a tall figure that was a head taller than him and blocked out the light.

"you are?"

He patted the star on his shoulder and said:

“I am the General, and I am here to answer your questions and give you and Rhine Lab a chance.”

Chapter 43 The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind; little do they know that a bullet is beneath their feet.

Colombia, Lakenfende Memorial Cafe, private room.

Hanging on the walls of the private box is a commemorative oil painting depicting the Battle of Lakenfende, the most important and famous battle of the Colombian War of Independence. In this battle, the Colombian independence army defeated the Duke of Victoria's local garrison with a casualty ratio of one to ten, winning the war and completely shattering the myth of Victoria's invincibility.

Although the army they referred to was merely a colonial legion composed of local indigenous people, and was far inferior in number and equipment to the Colombian independence army, which had been instigated by the regular army of Victoria, Colombians highly valued the symbolic significance of this battle, calling it a "great victory."

The brigadier sat below the painting, while Director Henry sat opposite him, his face showing a mixture of doubt and anticipation.

Henry, the director, never dreamed that when Rhine Life suffered such a blow, the first to lend a helping hand would not be the bankers and capitalists who had invested heavily in Rhine Life, but the Colombian military, who were completely unrelated to them.

But it is indeed a strong backer. In Colombia, what could make people feel safer than the military that holds the reins of arms?

With the military's help, Rhine Life was able to transform from an ordinary private enterprise into a military-owned enterprise, elevating its status and prestige by more than one level. But the problem is...

All seemingly selfless assistance had already come with a hidden price tag. He didn't know what the military's purpose was in offering help at this critical juncture for Rhine Life, a company on the verge of collapse.

So, what's the cost?

"It seems Mr. Henry is quite interested in my proposal as well."

With his arms crossed, the brigadier general spoke slowly and deliberately.

"However, I think you should still find out why Rhine Lab has encountered such a change."

Henry frowned. The brigadier general's words had indeed hit the nail on the head. What he was most concerned about now was why Rhine Life had encountered such a thing.

A group of shareholders, a group of capitalists, actually forfeited a chance to make money, and withdrew their investment all at once on a simple count of 3, 2, 1. They have to pay breach of contract penalties, and they will also suffer losses after Rhine Life goes bankrupt. Why would they do this?

"You might want to take a look at this."

As the brigadier general spoke, he took a stack of manuscripts from his briefcase. The handwriting looked somewhat familiar, and after a quick glance, Director Henry spotted the surprising signature.

"Joseph Pulitzer? The Pulitzer journalist?"

He glanced at the press release and exclaimed in surprise,

"Is this a press release from a Pulitzer journalist?"

The brigadier general nodded without changing his expression.

"The Pulitzer reporter handed this press release to the editorial department of the Washington Post, hoping it would make the front page of Colombia tomorrow, but we have people in the editorial department, so we intercepted the press release. As for why the military intervened... well, how should I put it? There's some content in it that's really unsuitable for the news, which could easily have a huge negative impact on the impartiality of the Federal Congress and Colombia's image and credibility. Although we in the military have never been on good terms with the political world, we still stand on the same side on such matters of national importance. Of course, although it's not convenient to disclose it to the news media, I personally believe that you and Rhine Life, as parties involved in the incident, still have the right to know. So I specifically requested that this press release be given to you, Mr. Henry."

His words were impeccable, subtly implying that the contents contained damaging information about the political world and was closely related to the persecution of Rhine's life. At the same time, he subtly elevated the military's role in the matter, cultivating a positive image in Henry's mind and facilitating smoother negotiations.

The prop used was merely a forged Pulitzer Press Release.

Joseph Pulitzer was a great man, as some within the military once remarked. He left no identifying marks in his press releases other than his signature. Perhaps this was because he didn't want to be identified, but military advisors offered another perspective: perhaps he was trying to encourage other journalists?

Their idea wasn't wrong. Wayne didn't leave a clear identifying label for the Pulitzer journalist's pseudonym because he wanted to encourage other journalists. If they didn't have the courage to stand up and expose the darkness on earth, they could choose to hide in the light of the Pulitzer pseudonym and push everything onto the Pulitzer journalist. Wayne would let the Pulitzer pseudonym bear those things.

However, this also gave the military an opportunity. Forging a signature is not difficult for an Originium Arts user. Even ordinary people who do not know Originium Arts can learn to imitate handwriting after a period of training.

It's somewhat suspicious that the military is exposing the corruption in the political arena, since the two sides have always been adversaries. Their revelations won't have much effect; most people will just watch for entertainment. Moreover, they have to maintain a facade of peace with the political establishment and can't openly tear each other apart.

At this point, the Pulitzer journalist became a perfect candidate to expose the conspiracy and criticize the shadows, while the military simply followed along and reaped the benefits. After all, the military had been monitoring Colombian immigration and hadn't yet seen anyone who could be a Pulitzer journalist enter Colombian territory. He wasn't in Colombia, and he couldn't possibly parachute in to embarrass them, so they could use that identity as they pleased.

Moreover, the Pulitzer journalist might be quite pleased, having unexpectedly gained credit for "exposing corruption in Colombian politics." He might even come to Colombia to investigate, allowing the military to finally figure out who this mysterious journalist really is!

To curb the arrogance of the political establishment, gain the loyalty of Rhine's life, and uncover the identity of the mysterious Pulitzer journalist—killing three birds with one stone, with no harm whatsoever, why not?

The brigadier tapped his fingertips lightly on the table, his other hand holding a coffee cup, sipping his coffee slowly, his eyes fixed on Henry, whose face was growing increasingly angry, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.

Great news, great news, fantastic news!

The idiots in the political arena have always mocked the military as a bunch of reckless brutes who only know how to roll up their sleeves and get to work, but they never imagined that if these brutes started to think, then these political scumbags would have no reason to exist at all.

Like the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind, the Rhine Labs that you sought to maintain balance will be taken by our military.

The brigadier was ready to formally extend an olive branch to Henry, but little did he know that, like a mantis stalking a cicada, unaware of the oriole behind, the oriole stretched its neck to peck at the mantis, unaware that a bullet was beneath it!

Wayne is ready.

It's time to show Columbia the overwhelming power of the Lancaster family's capital, which controls 80% of all financial transactions in Terra and has been operating for generations—the core city of Londinium!

Chapter 44 President of Victoria General Medical Company

Columbia, Elizabeth Grand Hotel, top floor.

When Kal'tsit walked into the room with a solemn expression and picked up the remote to turn on the television, Wayne knew that something might have already happened.