Blackstone Code

“Interesting.”

As soon as Geruno said this with a smile, everyone in the room turned their attention to him.

As arguably the most powerful man in the Federation, countless eyes watched him daily, analyzing every word, movement, and expression.

The higher a person’s status, the more restrained they appeared at work—this was why.

They couldn’t show too much emotion or too many gestures; any such display could lead to wild speculation and potentially uncontrollable consequences.

There was a war caused by a smile is a well-known saying in Gephra. It refers to a count who smiled at a married noblewoman—a smile others saw as suggestive.

Someone witnessed it and told her husband—another noble.

The husband confronted the count, accusing him of an affair. The count denied it; he didn’t even know the woman and claimed it was just a casual smile.

But in the eyes of others, it was ambiguous.

The husband, feeling betrayed and humiliated, killed his wife in public and declared war on the count.

That war lasted a full year, with over twenty thousand casualties, and had to be mediated by the aristocratic council.

If a mere smile from a count could spark such chaos, imagine what a sentence from Mr. Geruno—along with an intrigued expression—could trigger.

At that moment, everyone in the room was thinking about three things:

What is he smiling at?

Why is he smiling?

Who is he referring to as interesting?

The first and second questions may seem similar, but they’re not. What refers to a specific incident—like laughing at someone who tripped. A concrete reason.

The why reflects an internal emotional response—it could stem from anger, happiness, or something else entirely.

And finally, who did Mr. Geruno find interesting?

The dozen or so gentlemen in the room were all deep in thought, searching for clues and expanding their interpretations.

Seeing the thoughtful expressions around him, Geruno withdrew his smile.

“Do you know how an arms dealer successfully sells a handgun to someone who doesn’t need it?” he asked suddenly, prompting everyone to shift mental gears.

Someone with quick thinking answered, “By creating a sense of crisis. For example, linking it to recent violent incidents and telling the person that buying a handgun will protect themselves and their family.”

Some nodded in agreement. Others kept thinking. Geruno looked around, “Anyone else? It’s just a simple discussion.”

Despite his words, everyone knew that the right answer would leave a lasting impression.

The Duncan family was vast, wealthy enough to reproduce without restraint.

A regular household might struggle to raise two or three kids, but for them, children were raised by professional institutions within the family—a filtering mechanism to identify outstanding descendants.

There were many talented individuals. Once someone had proven themselves excellent, future success no longer depended on knowledge or performance.

No one could know everything. But the Duncan family’s wealth allowed them to hire experts in any field.

So how did they choose future leaders of the family?

It came down to impressions—how memorable someone was to the current patriarch. Maybe, on his deathbed, when it’s time to name a successor, would he recall your face?

Someone else spoke up: “We could bundle the weapon with another product and give it away.”

A few nodded. This kind of tactic was trending.

Want a hair dryer?

Buy a hair dryer and get a free oven!

To the customer, the oven seemed like a gift. But to the capitalist, every item had a cost and a price. That oven was still sold.

No one else spoke.

Geruno leaned back in his chair, casually playing with an elegant fountain pen. “You’re all right, but not good enough.”

“Creating a crisis can work—but only when it relates to defense. Most people aren’t naturally aggressive. They won’t buy offensive weapons just to protect themselves. They’re more inclined to buy defensive tools.”

He pointed at another person. “Buy one, get one free seems viable, but I’ve only ever heard of buying a gun and getting free ammo. Never a steam iron with a free handgun.”

“That might work in arms deals, but it’s not scalable. It has limits.”

He set the pen down on the table with a clack.

Then he looked up.

“In truth, it’s very simple. No matter who the person is—give them strong hatred and a burning desire for revenge, and they will buy a handgun without hesitation.”

“They could be a farmer, a janitor, an office worker—anyone.”

“Anywhere, anytime—if they feel the urge for revenge deeply enough, they’ll buy a gun. No exceptions, as long as the hatred is real.”

“So what we’re selling first isn’t the handgun. It’s hatred. Make the gun a necessary purchase that follows naturally.”

“You’re all probably wondering what I meant by interesting earlier. I was talking about Lynch.”

“We had already achieved our goal with the Overseas Security Act legislation. But he managed to push the atmosphere even further.”

“The idea that we have the right to take revenge and the belief that we must take revenge are two completely different mindsets—and he captured that perfectly. The six million was well spent.”

From initiation to development, nearly all of the work had been carried out by the Duncan family. But what it lacked was… how to put it—soul, backbone.

There was no core.

To the average Federation citizen, the Overseas Security Act was just another version of the “security threat theory.”

“Hey, someone got hurt. Shouldn’t you buy a handgun to protect yourself?”

Some agreed. But most people still believed such things wouldn’t happen to them—or if they did, there were other ways to stay safe.

The desire wasn’t strong enough. Even if the act passed, people would still grumble that it was just another scheme orchestrated from behind the scenes.

But Lynch brought the entire initiative to life. He didn’t say, If you don’t buy this damn gun, you might be in danger. Instead, he stabbed the invisible blade of fear right into people’s chests—making them desperately want to protect themselves.

Then he appeared, holding the handgun. That’s when the desire to buy became irresistible.

That’s why Geruno had found Lynch interesting. He hadn’t even thought of it at first—Lynch had.

No doubt, the six million was worth it.

“When the Overseas Security Act passes, we’ll form the family’s first publicly acknowledged private armed force. That task will go to…”

He casually said a name—it might not have matched the person he had in mind. He could’ve been wrong.

After all, the family had thousands of members. He couldn’t possibly remember everyone’s face and name. He was old, and couldn’t afford to waste his energy memorizing photos.

That’s exactly why leaving a lasting impression was more meaningful than simply performing better.

He smiled again. “Truly interesting.”

He knew Lynch’s rise to power. As one of the fastest-growing new-generation capitalists, Geruno had always kept an eye on him.

Compared to others who’d risen quickly through manufacturing or finance, Lynch’s path was a bit wild—hard to understand.

He chose what most people saw as the hardest road: leaving the Federation entirely to build his empire overseas.

Many didn’t think he’d succeed. But in doing so, he avoided the cutthroat competition at home.

Back then, trying to enter domestic finance or manufacturing was nearly impossible.

The financial sector was a battlefield of titans, devouring each other. Traditional industries were in decline. No matter which path he chose, he had no way forward.

But he made it anyway. Nagaryll’s transformation had become a textbook example of capital operation.

There were even rumors the Saint Harmony Society planned to include it in the Federation’s curriculum. Geruno supported that too—he could have his name in the textbook as well.

Some kinds of fame spread easily; others were less convenient. This kind of legacy was safe.

Lynch had never followed the script. It might’ve looked like Geruno got the better end of this deal—but Lynch had won too.

He didn’t just earn back his six million. He also secured a massive wave of orders.

Like Geruno had said earlier: before danger strikes, before hatred is felt…

Would people rather buy a handgun for self-defense, or pay professionals to protect them?

The answer was obvious. Instead of forming their own security teams, most would rather pay for the solution.

And in the Federation, which company offered the greatest assurance?

Without a doubt:

Blackstone Security.

Solid as a rock.