Chapter 12 - 12 The Greatest Crisis

Words : 705 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

Chapter 12: Chapter 12 The Greatest Crisis John rose from his chair and turned toward the wall adorned with rifles—guns spanning back to the late 18th century. Each piece was a relic he had meticulously acquired, hoping they might serve as inspiration for his craft. Selecting one from the collection, he inspected it closely. "A Springfield rifle, discontinued more than 20 years ago. Likely the M1861 model. Simple in design, but a hassle to load and lacking proper rifling. It's the kind of firearm that'll end up in museums in a few years. They didn't produce many of these, so it's a wonder you managed to find one." John finished his evaluation and placed the rifle on the table. "Step back for a moment," he instructed. The moment I complied and moved toward the corner, a loud sound filled the workshop. Bang! Crack! Crash! Startled, I widened my eyes in shock as John slammed the rifle repeatedly with a hammer, shattering it into irreparable pieces. Shards of metal and wood scattered across the table, a mess of what was once a firearm. With a calm smile, John remarked, "Now, who would believe this was ever a rifle?" "What... what are you doing?" I stammered, frozen in disbelief. The sudden, violent act caught me completely off guard. John's grin widened. "Let me tell you a story, my friend. You see, my homeland, America, is truly a capitalistic nation. During the time of westward expansion, we needed to push the Native Americans off the land, but here's the fascinating part: we sold them guns." My brows furrowed in confusion as he continued, his tone both casual and chillingly matter-of-fact.@@@@ "The Natives used those same guns to fight against us. But when they ran out of bullets, they would gather animal hides and return to American traders to buy more ammunition. Now, who do you think made the most money in this scenario?" "But what about the rare, incorruptible inspectors?" I asked. "The ones who wouldn't fall for bribes. How did the fruit merchants handle them?" John smirked. "Oh, those types? Simple. They had someone else fight on their behalf—citizens desperate for the fruit. In the dry, barren West, fruit was a necessity, and the merchants turned public sentiment into their shield." Of course. Even the strictest enforcers couldn't stand against the will of the people, especially when democracy framed it as an act of justice. The plan was perfect. "Thanks, John. I have to go now—tonight is going to be busy," I said as I hurried out the door. John waved me off with a chuckle. "Good luck, Fang Ming. Maybe I'll take this opportunity to work on some guns myself. My hands are getting itchy from all this talk." Leaving John's workshop, I headed straight for the company office. Though the evening had deepened into night, my thoughts were ablaze, oblivious to the passage of time. The existing business strategy would need a complete overhaul, but that didn't bother me. The foundation was already in place—I just had to refine it. "I'm not a fruit merchant," I muttered under my breath. "But I can learn from them. I'll craft a method unique to me." Grabbing pen and paper, I began drafting plans, the lessons from John's story fueling my every thought. For hours, I wrote furiously, filling dozens of pages with ideas, organizational structures, and contingency plans. A knock at the door broke my concentration. "Sir, it's nearly eleven o'clock. Shouldn't you rest for the night?" one of my security staff asked. I glanced at the clock, startled by how late it was. "Ah, you're right. I was just about to leave." Gathering my papers, I donned my coat and stepped outside. The night air was brisk as I climbed into the waiting carriage. As the vehicle made its way down the wide boulevard, I caught sight of my home in the distance. The house was brightly lit, the warm glow spilling from every window—a stark contrast to the dark streets outside. "Yuna should be asleep by now," I murmured, curiosity rising. Something was different about tonight.

Chapter 12 - 12 The Greatest Crisis

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