A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 215 The Gangster Adventurer and His Young Boyfriend (4)

Compared to the grand welcome two months ago when Quinn and Ankuya, representing the academy, arrived with servants lining the streets, Ike received a much simpler welcome. A butler stood at the door and said casually, "Please come in."

"Excuse me." Ike said calmly, waving to stop the coachman who wanted to follow him.

This mansion is not a place that just anyone can enter.

The Southern Continent has enjoyed peace for a thousand years and prides itself on being the most advanced in the world. The upper class is most proud of its so-called social etiquette, which is used to show their class superiority and civilization. The more powerful the family, the more they adhere to the rules. With Ike's social status, he cannot even enter the door without an invitation.

In the kingdoms of the Southern Continent, the social status of nobles far surpasses that of merchants. Even a viscount with the lowest rank and a penniless family can still be arrogant and haughty when facing a merchant with millions of gold pounds in assets. The nobles' pursuit of legitimacy through bloodline makes it extremely difficult for ordinary wealthy merchants to marry into noble families. The Branson family is a rare exception. Combining the wealth of the richest family with noble connections, the Branson family is already showing signs of becoming the most powerful family in Eswell City.

With Elon's abilities, appearance, and family background, he may very well be able to marry into one of the most powerful noble families in the Southern Continent, truly becoming a powerful clan and transforming a surname without any titles into the most influential family in Eswell besides the Academy.

However, with that speech half a month ago, everything came to an end. No nobleman was willing to marry his daughter to a madman, and the Branson family's future went from bright to uncertain.

Even so, Ike wasn't quite qualified to step into the Branson family's door. Although he was called the 'Godfather of Sewell,' Elon thought he was just a smuggling scoundrel. The Golden Wind's 2,500-plus men were nothing more than a wanted poster. If anyone dared to resist, the Academy's heavenly soldiers would be coming. Under the protection of the magic circle, there was no possibility of a riot in Eswell City.

So Ekko adopted a very humble attitude; he was there to curry favor with someone powerful.

He also wanted to know what Elon saw in Golden Wind that made him willing to accept his invitation to meet.

With no shortage of money or power, the smuggling capabilities that Goldwind relies on are insignificant to the Branson family, who own the entire airport.
Among the officials and members of Congress that Ike knew, Elon was the most upright of them all. He had no corruption scandals and was able to maintain relative impartiality even while controlling the airport. He never used his power or trade routes to blackmail business rivals. In Ike's view, this approach was even somewhat pedantic.

Even in Ashwell, being too upright wouldn't bring him any advantage; on the contrary, it would make him distrusted because he was out of place. Indeed, the Branson family had far fewer allies in the government than the Alexandre family, and the political resources left by Elon's father held mixed opinions about this young man.

If reforms are desired, the implementation of laws ultimately depends on the execution of officials in various departments. If those below them pay lip service to them, then no matter how good the ideals sound, they are nothing but empty words.

'Ni Ge'er~ Bring out all that scumbag behavior you usually have from gambling and womanizing, and get along with him. Become his good buddy, his good bro! You need to spend more time with him so I can observe him more.'

"—Do you know what 'bro' means? It's a West Coast slang term. 'Yo~bro' is how God and Kobe greeted each other. I've always believed that Jehovah is a liberal God who doesn't discriminate against Black people."

Ike's smile was somewhat stiff.

His head was buzzing with noise, making it impossible for him to concentrate on thinking. But he couldn't talk back, so he had no choice but to follow the butler into the side hall of the manor.

"Please come in."

After he finished speaking, the butler in the tuxedo gave way, and the servants on either side opened the door.

The moment the door opened, Ike's eyes flickered.

He smelled a very faint, very faint scent of blood. A ninja's sense of smell is second only to that of an archer skilled in tracking. Someone here was injured today, but has already received treatment.
This is a Ron-style tea room.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was a meticulously landscaped garden, with towering spruce trees cradling the glowing sunset. Elon and his mother, Jenny, sat facing each other on the sofa, their backs to Ike, while Jenny's eyes held worry and anger.

"Good evening, Mr. Elon, Mrs. Jenny." Ike nodded and gave a gentlemanly bow.

Jenny's emotions vanished instantly, replaced by a genuine smile as if the sun had just set: "Mr. Carpenter, welcome."

She rose gracefully, offering her seat to the guest, her attitude revealing not a trace of the disdain or contempt that Southern nobles might show towards Black people from the Western Continent: "You two talk, I have an appointment."

Then, she patted her son on the shoulder as a gesture of comfort.

Elon's inauguration hearing has been approved and is scheduled for three weeks later.

Reeve Branson, the head of the Branson family and the actual senator, was required to attend, or Elon's acting senator duties would be revoked.

The acting councilor of the Kingdom of Ron cast the final vote in favor.

Jenny had just received a letter from her father, Earl Ron, who was also Elon's maternal grandfather.

Ron can support Elon, but only if Ron's proxy retains his seat in Parliament. They will assist Elon in withdrawing the hearings if he is willing to abandon his reforms of the parliamentary system.

The Kingdom of Ron knows the truth about Reeve.

Elon didn't say much. He first watched his mother leave before waving to Ike.

The two had met before, having crossed paths several times in various social settings, but this was their first conversation.

Ike calmly took his seat: "Do I need to introduce myself to you?"

Elon's gaze fell on his face, but it wasn't an examination; it was merely a quick glance, an attempt to align the black man's appearance with the image in his mind.

"There are more than twenty gangs, big and small, entrenched in the 45 blocks of Westville. The wardens, who are in custody, imprisoned, on long sentences, and sentenced to death, have to submit budget requests to the council three times a year because the prison is crammed with your people."

The waiter poured tea for Ike; it was Wedgwood blue bone china, the tea was clear and pale red, and it had a refreshing and invigorating aroma.

“You know, when it comes to Seaville people, especially the gangsters, law enforcement officers often seem,” Elon paused, then said bluntly, “not very patient.”

“I understand and appreciate the efforts law enforcement officers make to maintain city security, especially in order to speed up the investigation,” said law-abiding citizen Ike.

"Ha, among so many gangsters, only the people of Golden Wind have the toughest tongues. When I first entered politics two years ago, my first job was the annual audit of the law enforcement department. I saw many Western Continent people who had been detained for ten days or half a month without saying a word in the interrogation room."

“I’m very curious.” Elon spoke in a soothing tone, with clear and melodious pronunciation, almost like singing. It is said that Salem School, where he studied, included students’ accents in its daily assessment criteria.

"They were not coerced, but kept their mouths shut solely through discipline and trust in Golden Wind. This is unprecedented. It is remarkable that a new gang, established less than a few years ago, can instill such conviction in its members and operate like a business, especially with such a young leader."

Ike smiled calmly and said, "May I take this as a compliment?"

"What do you think?"

Ike stated, "If you've done any research, you'll know that Golden Wind members are rarely arrested for serious crimes. We have the largest number of members compared to other gangs, but we're also the most law-abiding."

"That's because you've bribed the most officials. Your word carries more weight in the police station than the Chief of Police. And you're the smartest; whatever you do, you always leave a clean slate."

“The neighborhood managed by Golden Wind is the safest and most orderly place in Seaville,” Ike said sincerely. “I just want you to know that we are willing to cooperate with the government, especially with you, and if you feel that anything is done wrong, we can make changes.”

Through the wisps of tea smoke, Elon's gaze fell on him for the second time.

"The reason you can sit here and say these things that allow a gang to continue to ride roughshod over the citizens of Westville is because you seized the arms that the Alexandre family was preparing to give to Britain. You're smart; you know how to play to my tastes."

Ike gave a wry smile and began to play the victim: "I guess we're going to get retaliated against soon. Even our Golden Wind casino building is rented from the Alexander family. Offending a senator has serious consequences."

The implication is, please help me.

"You're doing this because of the Customs Act, aren't you?" Elon picked up his teacup, took a sip, and said nonchalantly, "You want me to turn a blind eye and not inspect your Golden Wind's goods?"

"It's a small business, so it would be best if you could be lenient with me."

“Ha, small-scale business.” Elon slammed his teacup down. “Last year alone, your Golden Wind transported over 140,000 catties of goods. Assuming a profit of ten gold pounds per catty, that’s just what I found out. Heaven knows what kind of smuggled goods you’re dealing with. Cigarettes shipped from Bavaria to the East can’t even sell as well as local merchants. Where do they get their goods from?”

Ike exclaimed in surprise, "I thought the accounts were well-hidden. You're even more resourceful than I imagined. This makes me even more convinced of your ideas."

Elon stared at him.

Ike wasn't intimidated by his cold attitude; instead, he relaxed and said:
"Since you're willing to talk to me, I'm sure it's not to expose my little business."

“Sir, I’ll be frank—I’m just a peasant from the Western Continent. My childhood was rather miserable. Thanks to the protection of the Serpent of Death and the help of many others, I’m fortunate enough to make a living in Aishwell. I need to ensure those who helped me also have food to eat. If you think highly of me, I’m willing to repay your friendship in every way possible. Anything Golden Wind has, anything that can be done, just say the word.” Elon, the “Serpent of Death,” looked somewhat surprised: “You’re a follower of the Cult of Death?”

“If you wish, I can also convert to the White Religion,” Ike did not deny.

Elon silently observed him, his expression gradually becoming calm, and he gently waved his hand to signal the waiter to bring Ike a fresh cup of hot tea.

"Oh, the tea's gone cold." Ike completely ignored the fact that the freshly added tea was still steaming hot, picked up the teacup and drank it all in one gulp, making the maid's hand tremble.

His meaning was very straightforward—even if you poisoned the tea, I would still drink it.

"—The jewelry store robbery in March."

Elon finally spoke, but he asked a question that seemed completely unrelated to the matter: "Was Golden Wind involved?"

Ike was taken aback, then thought for a long time before finally sighing and saying, "We have cooperated with the academy to arrest the mastermind for investigation. You can confirm this with the academy."

He continued, “I’m not trying to make excuses—I know your sister was also quite frightened that night. Please allow me to express my deepest apologies. I cannot guarantee that every partner of Golden Wind is mentally sound, and I only found out what happened afterward. I was the one who took the two escaped robbers to the police station.”

Elon was not surprised by his candor, nor did he show any anger towards his sister; instead, he fell into deep thought again.

Finally, he asked cautiously, "Do you know if those robbers possess a particular skill?"

"technology?"

"It allows ordinary people to use arcane magic."

"I don't understand the principle." Ike said, looking somewhat hesitant, following the words taught to him by the 'voice' in his head that had become unusually serious.

Elon stared intently at him.

"I need you to tell me. Is this technology related to the academy?"

Ike looked troubled and stammered, "This...you can ask the academy yourself."

"can not say?"

Ike neither nodded nor shook his head, but just gave a wry smile.

“Then you just need to tell me,” Elon asked solemnly, “is this technology something only the Academy can do?”

"No. There are probably more than one company that knows it; it's been circulating for a while now."

After he finished speaking, you could feel Elon visibly relieved.

".Is it?"

“I swear on my parents’ lives,” Ike said solemnly, like Long Yutao. “As far as I know, yes.”

"last question."

Elon crossed his legs and said casually:

"Three years ago, a painkiller called 'Starlight' appeared in the city. It was a semi-transparent liquid that was injected into the bloodstream."

"It can induce euphoria, sharpen thinking, rapidly heal injuries, and greatly enhance sexual ability. However, it is highly addictive, and withdrawal symptoms are tantamount to madness. In the jewelry store case, my bodyguard saw the robbers inject a drug that was extremely similar to Starlight."

"It's just a different color. What they injected looks like 'starlight' that's been concentrated many times over. It's as blue as real stars."

Elon elegantly picked up his teacup, using the rim to shield his chin, and casually asked, "Do you know this medicine?"

Ike blinked, his face revealing the simple honesty of a black guy.

"Golden Wind has never handled this kind of product. You should ask the Academy about this type of medicine."

"They said such a drug doesn't exist; perhaps they don't want me to investigate."

Elon paused for a moment, then downed his tea in one gulp.

"Please help me check. I have a feeling that the starlight might still exist in this city."

Ike beamed with joy.

"You mean you want Golden Wind to do things for you?"

“The Customs Act must be changed,” Elon said calmly. “All welfare policies need money to support them. Public hospitals and schools, and a more hygienic drinking water system all need money. I will not favor a gang.”

Ike smiled wryly and said, "I understand."

He was prepared to take a loss, but then Elon said, "Branson Trade can open two separate routes for you, one to the west and one to the east, but you will need to pay for the airship's berthing and airport management fees."

Ike's hand trembled, and he looked at Elon in disbelief. He wasn't joking.

Two shipping routes mean that there is no longer a need to call at the ports of merchant ships from countries that might be subject to inspection. Although the volume of cargo still cannot make up for the 30% loss that may occur after strict tax inspections, smuggling is never about making money from volume.
The profit margins for some bulk commodities are several times higher than those for small, desirable items. As a result, Goldwind can completely recoup its losses and even earn more money and expand its sales channels than before.
Ike's smile faded, and he slowly asked, "What do you need me to do?"

There's no such thing as a free lunch.

“I like talking to smart people.”

Elon laughed and said, enunciating each word clearly:
"I need you to transport the arcane artifacts produced by Axwell to the territory of Lawrence in Britain. As many as you can turn into weapons, that's all. You can make money, but you can't drag me into it."

Ike opened his mouth wide, and after a long while, he sighed and said, "...Mr. Councilor, do you know what it means if the Academy finds out about this?"

"What are gangsters if not just scapegoats for big shots?" Elon raised his teacup to him. "You risk your life for money, you're something else! I salute you."

Elon took a deep breath.

"Three routes."

"Cheers~"

The crisp clinking of glasses signaled that the waiter who had been pouring tea had left the room sometime earlier.

There are some things they shouldn't hear.

"May I ask why you support the Prophet of Britain to this extent?"

"Just call me Elon," the young man said casually. "This is an investment."

"What about reform?"

Following the instructions in his mind, Ike asked, word by word, "Is it also an investment?"

(End of this chapter)