Blackstone Code-Chapter 560: You’re All Losing Money—Only I’m Profiting

Some cooperated with Lynch; naturally, others didn’t.
The old man who once shouted,
I’d rather go to hell than sell my factory to you!
and
You and your greed can go to hell!
was now experiencing something very different.
His factory had been completely sealed off. Bank staff pasted notices on the gates, and a large team entered to begin liquidation.
All of this had been approved by the Sabin City court and its judges—in other words, the city’s entire judicial system backed the bank’s actions.
After all, people understand the principle: if you owe money, you must repay it—especially such a large sum.
Most crucially, he had rejected Mr. Lynch’s goodwill.
Lynch tried to help him, out of kindness and sympathy. Not only did the man refuse, he even accused Lynch of orchestrating the whole mess.
The truth was, these people simply couldn’t admit failure. They borrowed the money, they spent it, and they made the decisions to expand and scale up.
They also made the decision to hoard raw materials when prices seemed
cheap
. Some even prioritized higher-paying customers over those who had already paid deposits, resulting in excess inventory that no one wanted—one of the key reasons the factory failed.
The old man now stood blankly outside the factory. He was no longer allowed in. From this moment on, the premises were restricted, and the property legally belonged to the bank. He was now just an outsider.
A few workers rolled out a cart full of raw materials, setting them on an open lot. Liquidators recorded everything for valuation.
The old man watched as nearly new materials were cataloged. Then the assessor called out: “Rodent-bitten, insect-eaten—scrap batch!”
Now, not only had he lost the factory, but he also faced massive debt. He, his family, and anyone who benefited from the loan’s prosperity would be legally considered joint debtors.
They would be forced to work to pay off the bank.
Of course, none of this had anything to do with Mr. Lynch or those who had accepted their fate. For them, a new life and a new chapter were just beginning.
After Ferrell took office as mayor, he immediately brought up Lynch and went on TV to promise Sabin citizens that starting next week, a selected group from the city’s most struggling families would begin working in Lynch’s factories.
Announcing this on inauguration day instantly silenced doubts about Ferrell’s capabilities. Some even became staunch supporters overnight.
It was all about jobs and employment.
“We’ll start up operations after clearing the old inventory. No later than the third week of this month,” Lynch said, standing beside Ferrell, speaking to attendees from various sectors. This was Ferrell’s celebration event, marking his ascent to mayor and adherence to formal traditions.
Though the crowd around him wasn’t large yet, Ferrell had inherited some of Mayor Landon’s capital network. Local businessmen unwilling to relocate had already begun rallying around Ferrell.
Combined with Ferrell’s own contacts and support from social circles, Lynch even spotted a few middle-class attendees.
A new mayor meant new opportunities. Some people were overcoming obstacles they could never cross alone. A new
ecosystem
was forming.
People were curious how Ferrell secured jobs from Lynch. So Ferrell pulled Lynch over to speak directly.
Lynch’s confident tone sparked disbelief:
“Mr. Lynch, every time we open a factory now, we lose money. Can your factories even break even?”
Lynch shook his head. “It’s not about breaking even…”
At that, many exchanged glances—this was reality.
Opening a factory in this climate meant guaranteed losses.
That sounded strange, but it was true. With the economy depressed, distributors no longer paid deposits or paid upon delivery. To minimize their own risks, they now demanded to sell first, pay later.
This meant factories had to pay workers, consume raw materials, and cover logistics—without any guaranteed payment in return.
Many businesses collapsed under this cash flow burden. That’s why most would rather sit idle than start production.
On top of that, shifts in supply chain power made factories go from dominant to weak. That, too, cut into profits.
No product line ever sells out entirely, unless it’s a hit.
In the past, distributors bore the risk. Buy 100 items, sell 80, discount the rest—still a net gain.
Now, with post-sale payment, unsold inventory risks are dumped back on factories.
Twenty unsold items can wipe out profits from eighty sold ones.
Distributors had become the strongest link in the chain, unlike before, when factories controlled everything. Now, factories bore greater risk.
Lynch’s apparent willingness to operate at a loss to support Ferrell made rumors of their close relationship seem more credible.
But then Lynch’s next words stunned the crowd.
“…What I care about is how much profit these factories and their products can make me.”
Shock rippled through the audience. Everyone else was talking about losses and hardship, and here was someone focused on profit—it sounded like he was trying to show off.
“Forgive me, Mr. Lynch,” a shoe factory owner stepped forward. “In this situation, how can you guarantee profit?”
Others watched closely to see Lynch’s response.
Lynch smiled. “I’m not selling these products domestically. If I did, I’d definitely lose money.”
He paused, scanning the crowd. His pace was slow and his enunciation clear, so everyone could hear and understand.
Maybe it was the size of the crowd. Maybe the message was spreading. More people began gathering.
“But if I export them abroad, I might not just avoid losses—I could even make a profit.”
“If you pay attention to recent headlines, you’ll notice a term appearing more and more frequently: ‘globalization.’ Globalization is already part of our lives.”
“Rapid technological development has shortened the distance between us and the world. We can now easily sell our goods abroad—to the entire world.”
“If you’ve been paying attention to international trade policies, you’ll know that exports now qualify for tax rebates, and some goods even receive additional subsidies.”
“All of this greatly reduces our pressure, and the international market is far larger, deeper, and more multidimensional than the domestic one.”
“Every product has a suitable market—we just need to find it and ship the goods there.”
The unnamed man who raised the question followed up, “Mr. Lynch, are you referring to Nagaryll?”
Lynch glanced at him and nodded. “You could say that, but not necessarily. What I’m saying doesn’t mean Nagaryll is the only place that meets our profit goals as businessmen.”
“I just personally believe Nagaryll is the most suitable. Think about it, ladies and gentlemen—it’s a country with a population of 200 million!” Lynch smiled and used hand gestures to illustrate the scale.
“We are cultivating this country, this market.”
“Once a market of 200 million people is developed, if each person spends just ten Sol a year on goods from the Federation, that’s a two-billion-Sol market!”
“But gentlemen, in a materially underdeveloped country, their demand for goods won’t stop at just ten Sol—it’s far more than that.”
“It could be twenty, thirty, fifty—even a hundred Sol!”
“We’re cultivating this market to better fit our needs and then…” Lynch smiled with his lips closed and raised his glass for a sip. “It’s just that easy, ladies and gentlemen!”
Lynch said no more. He had always been honest, and he did indeed plan to sell these goods in Nagaryll—just through a slightly different method.
Bang!