Blackstone Code-Chapter 521: Helping Each Other Is the Duty of Friends

The same person, at different stages and in different states, can have many different thoughts.
The former Mayor Landon was willing to offend the governor rather than let go of the real power in his hands. But now, his thinking is rapidly changing. Contributing to the common people of the federation is far more noble than clinging to power, and society naturally rewards such values.
So when Lynch asked the question again, Landon didn’t feel offended. He casually nodded and shared his thoughts: “I’m not young anymore. Though I may seem young now, in ten years, kids will be calling me
grandpa
. In fact, some already do.”
“I’ve been seriously thinking lately—what does power really bring me, even if I hold it?”
He seemed reflective, as if overnight he had grasped some mysterious truth of the universe and become wise. “Power brings nothing. It can’t make me younger, can’t make everything go my way. There are many things power can’t achieve. It wears me out.”
“From now on, I want to dedicate my time to this country. Someone has to do something, good or bad, someone has to step up…”
“Actually, you gave me that inspiration, Lynch,” the mayor said warmly, looking at him as if every word was true. “You’ve solved many problems for us and offered constructive ideas. For example, the family workshops—you’re different from others.”
“They only think about how much they can get from ordinary people, but you think about taking on more social responsibility. Your selfless attitude moved me and helped me find my purpose in life…”
These words were not just empty flattery. In fact, the family workshops Lynch promoted have already helped many struggling households. As Lynch’s orders increase, more ordinary families will benefit.
Don’t underestimate the small profits of three to five or even just one Sol per product. A family can earn at least three Sol of pure profit a day, enough to support themselves.
Lynch nearly believed the praise, if not for the constantly changing numbers in his bank account. He really thought he was a noble man!
No, he was. At least he was nobler than most capitalists. So what the mayor said wasn’t mere flattery.
Lynch nodded in agreement. “You’re right…”
The mayor was momentarily stunned—he didn’t expect such honesty—but his composure remained strong. “That’s why I can let go. From now on, this is in your hands.”
He glanced at Ferrell and sighed, surprised that Ferrell had managed to pull Lynch in as his support. Without Lynch, this mayoralty might not have ended up in Ferrell’s hands.
Though this mayor was destined to
resign
, such an opportunity isn’t common. Two years of mayoral experience makes a politician’s résumé look impressive—proof of leadership.
Looking at Ferrell again, the mayor asked, “Lynch, is there anything you need us to do this time?”
Lynch nodded seriously. “Yes. I need information on some daily goods factories and their current production status.”
Seeing the mayor’s puzzled look, Lynch explained, “I plan to buy some factories to resume operations. We can’t just let those workers sit idle doing nothing; they need something to do. Wouldn’t that help reduce the government’s burden?”
The mayor didn’t let the lighthearted comment distract him. His focus was on Lynch’s plan to restart factories. What Sabin City lacks most now are jobs.
If Lynch really can do this, even without considering the direct benefit to ordinary people, just the action of
we’re trying
would earn high praise.
The mayor hesitated. “You’ll have to wait on this until after Ferrell takes office.” Ferrell’s expression shifted noticeably—he clearly heard the mayor’s words.
But he sensed something very different now. The mayor deliberately said this in front of Lynch and Ferrell to remind himself of the favor.
Ferrell had no choice but to accept, because the mayor could have withheld the opportunity but chose not to. Whether out of personal favor or politics, Ferrell had to take it.
“I’m about to resign. These things don’t mean much to me anymore. Ferrell, however, will stay here for two years. If he doesn’t have tangible achievements, it will be hard to deter some people here,” the mayor implied.
“Even with power, there are challengers. What’s the saying?” He looked at Ferrell as if asking for his input.
The two were very familiar. With just a glance, Ferrell understood and replied on the mayor’s behalf, “Challengers see all strong powers as the embodiment of evil. That’s from the opera Doomsday.”
Doomsday is a counter-mainstream opera, often labeled a cult classic. It was once banned because it promoted a provocative idea: “I am justice; my opponent is evil.”
This idea was mainstream then and now. Every cultural work has a hero who is unquestionably good, never portrayed as bad. But halfway through, the opera presents a terrifying question:
“Am I truly justice? Is the justice I represent really just? Is my opponent necessarily evil? Or are they labeled evil simply because they oppose me, making me appear just?”
In the end, the hero becomes a demon, while those he defeated become human protectors. This dramatic reversal and the opera’s social commentary made it controversial.
At that time, the absolute black-and-white view of justice made many uncomfortable and confused.
By quoting this, Mayor Landon wanted to hint at the deeper reality to Lynch.
For power, wealth, and all so-called interests, people become crazy. If Ferrell doesn’t show real results and doesn’t have Lynch’s support, people will launch unjust challenges to his authority and position. Though Ferrell isn’t absolute justice, he will face many challengers.
Lynch nodded slightly. “I understand. Let’s start with preliminary investigations. I might acquire at least four or five factories…”
Mayor Landon nodded and, curious, asked, “Just between us, is Nagaryll really as rich as some s and returnees say?”
Ferrell looked at Lynch, also curious. This was the mainstream belief in the federation—that Nagaryll is full of gold.
Lynch laughed, shaking his head. “No, it’s poor. So poor that a life costs only a hundred bucks.”
“But it’s also rich. For our civilized society, the most expensive cost is labor, but for a poor, backward, and savage place like that, surplus labor is the one thing they don’t lack.”
To clarify, Lynch gave an example: “If you had a factory and a hundred workers who don’t need wages, what would be profitable?”
Mayor Landon didn’t hesitate: “Anything would be profitable!”
Suddenly it made sense. He finally understood why everyone said Nagaryll was full of gold—because anyone could make money there since the locals don’t demand wages.
With this realization, he asked a new question, “You know Mark, my nephew? He’s not young either. I want him to find some decent work. Would it be suitable for him to go to Nagaryll?”
Of course it was suitable. In fact, Mayor Landon kindly suggested that Ferrell’s brother could join Mark in Nagaryll seeking opportunities, since he was good with people.
The meeting lasted over an hour before Lynch got up to leave.
Ferrell walked Lynch out of City Hall and awkwardly apologized for the mayor’s suggestion about sending his brother to Nagaryll. “I didn’t expect him to say that. My brother won’t leave the federation.”
“No, no need to apologize. I actually hope more people in the federation realize this—there are opportunities beyond the federation.” Lynch took out his business card from Nagaryll and handed it to Ferrell. “If your brother goes there, he can contact me. I’ll arrange a job suitable for him.”
Ferrell took the business card and kept it carefully. He knew this was a process every politician must go through in their career—the alliance between power and capital. There’s no avoiding it, not even the president can, let alone an acting mayor who hasn’t officially taken office.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me!” he said sincerely.
Lynch patted his arm with the same sincerity. “We’re friends!”