Blackstone Code-Chapter 693: The Rich Broth of Wisdom

Lynch tossed a cigarette to the young driver in front of him. He understood very well that for these drivers who had been deceived into coming from Nagaryll, the Federation was the only thing they could truly rely on.

The Gephra people couldn’t be trusted. The locals couldn’t be trusted. In unfamiliar environments, people naturally cling to whatever and whomever they find familiar.

Sometimes, people even become dependent on those who persecute them. It’s strange, but it’s real.

“Your name is Akumari, right?” Lynch asked, holding a cigarette pack in one hand, tapping it with a finger from the other. A cigarette popped out.

Just as Lynch bit down on it, Akumari quickly lit a match, shielding it from the wind with one hand, and offered the flame with the other.

“Thanks,” Lynch said politely. He was a courteous man, with a moral bottom line and a sense of social responsibility. He would thank anyone who helped him.

After taking a couple of puffs, Lynch patted Akumari’s hand. Only then did Akumari light his own cigarette using the last bit of the flame—but he didn’t smoke it. He simply held it in his hand as a gesture of respect for someone in a higher position.

“I didn’t expect Mr. Lynch to remember my name!” Akumari was clearly a bit moved. They’d only met a few times, but when Lynch called him by name, any resentment Akumari may have felt largely disappeared.

Lynch smiled. “I try my best to remember every one of my employees’ names. You may work for me, but I respect your individuality. Everyone is born equal.”

Akumari’s clenched hand relaxed.

What a wonderful sentiment—everyone is born equal. His mood lifted, and encouraged by Lynch’s gentleness, he dared to ask something he normally wouldn’t.

“Mr. Lynch, I have a question. I don’t know if I should ask, but aside from you, I don’t know who else could help me understand.”

He lowered his voice—not out of fear of being overheard, but from a habit of deference.

Lynch nodded. “No need to be so formal.”

Akumari didn’t respond to that, his mind focused elsewhere. After a pause to organize his thoughts, he asked, “Mr. Lynch, what do you think peace comes from?”

Lynch paused for a moment and looked at Akumari for a few seconds before smiling and pointing at him. “That’s a deep question, Akumari.”

“It’s connected to many things—technology, education, healthcare, religion, the social environment, employment… almost every social metric we can think of is tied to peace.”

“Some things might not seem related—like employment—but they’re actually very closely linked.”

“When people have jobs, it means they have income. It means that with serious effort, they can achieve modest dreams.”

“To eat well, dress warmly, save a little money, and enjoy life within their means—just like you all now. Let me ask you, if someone wanted to overthrow the current peaceful order in Nagaryll, would you join them? Would your coworkers?”

Akumari shook his head immediately. “No, we wouldn’t.”

When people have the basic conditions for life, they begin to feel settled.

Take the Federation, for example. Even though life at the bottom is hard—no savings, a small house—people still feel content.

At work, they chat and joke with colleagues. Occasionally, the union organizes free fried chicken and beer gatherings.

After work, they might spend 49 cents on a huge tub of popcorn, or a little more for a big bag of donuts. After dinner, the whole family crowds onto the couch, eating junk food and laughing at crude TV shows.

That’s contentment. That’s happiness. That’s joy.

Even if that joy is cheap, the satisfaction it brings is no different from spending millions—it’s all dopamine. Sometimes it’s even the same amount.

When everyone is satisfied, who would risk everything to disrupt society?

Not to mention, the labor unions often organize marches and protests, giving the public a way to vent. As long as people march with placards, shouting their anger alongside others who share it, they feel better.

At the end, some low-ranking official stands in front of the camera and says, We take this seriously. And just like that, the circle is closed. People feel heard. Their anger fades. They return to work—content.

But peace isn’t just about jobs. It’s about nearly every aspect of society. As the saying goes: unless someone is truly desperate, who would want to carry such a burden and responsibility?

Akumari listened, deeply shaken by ideas he had never considered before, and felt powerless. He knew he couldn’t save Nagaryll on his own. Even a group of people couldn’t. It would take the effort of an entire nation to change things.

He hesitated, then asked, “Mr. Lynch, I understand most of what you’re saying. But… it’s all too vast.”

“Please forgive my ambition and arrogance, but if I wanted to work toward peace and a better future for Nagaryll, what should I do?”

Lynch’s face was partially obscured by smoke, giving him an almost… sacred aura.

He flicked his ashes with a faint smile and looked at Akumari sideways. “Unity, and thought…”

“Everyone needs a similar ideal, a shared vision for the future. Only then can people be united as a single force.”

“Use ideas to unite people. When you do that, your society will grow strong. People’s thinking will evolve, and they’ll come out of ignorance.”

“You must understand—humans always think before they act. If your ideas can guide people and align with their values and interests, they’ll gather around those ideas like a flood.”

Akumari listened intently, committing every word to memory. “Mr. Lynch, I’m sorry to take up so much of your time. I just have one last question.”

Lynch nodded slightly to encourage him.

Akumari took a deep breath. “Do you believe Nagaryll’s future can really change?”

Lynch thought carefully for a moment. Then he asked, “Do you have a coin?”

“Yes, Mr. Lynch…” Akumari searched his pockets and pulled out two ten-cent coins—Gephra coins.

Federation Sol couldn’t be used here directly. The legal tender was the Gael. Most workers had already exchanged their money.

Lynch held a coin between two fingers. “I’m going to flip this coin. Do you know which side will be face-up when it lands in my hand?”

Akumari shook his head. “I can’t guess, Mr. Lynch.”

“Exactly. Neither can I. None of us can know if the result will be what we want. But…” He tossed the coin, letting it flip through the air before catching it tightly in his palm. “…if we’re too afraid to act just because we don’t know the result, then why even start?”

“I’ll guess it’s heads!” Lynch opened his palm and smiled. “I guessed wrong. But I’ll have another chance. And another after that. Until one day, I guess right.”

He casually tucked the coin into Akumari’s pocket and said with quiet sincerity, “What you want to do, what you have to do—it’s the same.”

“We never know the outcome—so all the more reason to act. To witness the future in our own way, with our own abilities.”

At that moment, Lynch’s smile was like the radiant sun in the sky, lighting up every shadow in Akumari’s heart, dispelling the darkness, and bringing him fully to life.

He was visibly moved. Lynch’s words struck a deep chord within him.

If fear of the unknown keeps him from acting, then how is he any different from everyone else?

He wanted to be brave, to witness the future in his own way.

“Mr. Lynch, your words have inspired me deeply. You’re… you’re a wise man!” Akumari, overwhelmed with emotion, struggled for words and finally settled on one that wasn’t perfect but still fitting.

Lynch patted him on the shoulder. “Work hard. I know you have a lot of ideas, and I don’t reject that. Thought is humanity’s most valuable asset—no one should ever look down on it.”

“When your team reaches Level 3, you’ll have the opportunity to go to the Federation for further training. Then you can see it for yourself—learn some advanced theories and ideas, and bring them back.”

That’s how the company’s promotion system worked: reaching Level 3 meant being recognized as a loyal worker willing to cooperate with the company’s exploitation. The reward for such loyalty was the chance to study in the Federation.

There, they’d see prosperity, a modern and developed society. When they returned to Nagaryll, they’d be recharged with new motivation—and a new goal.

To go from scraping by in a remote backwater, to dreaming of real freedom—maybe even securing a ship ticket and immigrating to the Federation.