A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 36: Kane Steelworks (Part )
"A lot of people. I've only just started this position. I don't know."

The worker, who looked relatively healthy, said cautiously, "Pushing the rod is very dangerous. Sometimes, before the previous pot is finished stirring, the next pot of molten iron is poured in, and the molten iron mixes together, causing the rod to bang around uncontrollably, and the person pushing the rod will be thrown out. Some unlucky people will get their hands entangled and broken. Some are even more unlucky and lose their lives."

"Hey!!!" The supervisor, not caring about the negative effects of inhaling alchemical potions, rushed in with a sullen face. "What the hell are you talking about, you damned peasants?! They didn't follow the rules, they deserve it!"

The worker opened his mouth in confusion, then realized that this man was not the factory leader and that he had said the wrong thing.

He stammered hurriedly, "Yes, yes, it was an operational error."

Elon didn't say much, turned around and walked out with Hakimi.

"No more shopping, let's go check taxes."

Broken hands, disabled people, arcane magic activated by arms
Elon's eyes narrowed slightly. Who gave them this power?

What is its relationship with this steel plant?
The office is located next to the main gate. It is a bungalow that looks no different from a factory, but the interior decoration is truly exquisite. It is estimated that the boss occasionally entertains customers here. On the wall are photos of Mr. Kane doing charity work, with a very generous smile on his face.

"Please go to the reception room and have a cup of tea first. How about coffee? We have premium roasted beans shipped from Ron."

The supervisor anxiously followed Elon, constantly trying to persuade him to stop.

But Elon ignored him, went straight to the door number of the finance office, pushed the door open and walked in.

Xia Dai'er followed behind with a malicious smile on her face.

"I won't check too much. Just take out all the tax returns, raw material purchase receipts, warehouse inbound and outbound management records, and freight payment receipts from 1448 to 1453."

Elon pulled up a chair and sat down, crossed his legs and said with a smile:
"Don't try to fool me with bank statements or sales records. Remember, I want receipts that match the company's public accounts."

The supervisor called it spicy!

"This, this, this is a lot, Mr. Congressman. We need some time. It seems that the documents have been put in the warehouse."

"—as if my family never owned a steel mill?"

Elon glared at the equally sweaty financial clerk beside him. Her desk was piled high with various documents. "You might have the tax returns in the warehouse, but where are the receipts for the freight train payments? Don't tell me you're paying monthly. The only place in Ashwell City that pays monthly is Grindelwald College. We pay for every trainload of steel we take away. We have to pay for this every day. Are you telling me you don't have any? Bring me everything on the table!"

The supervisor wanted to kneel down to Elon. If he brought those documents, wouldn’t the boss skin him alive?
Freight by train is paid according to weight and volume. The number of tons of goods shipped every day is remembered clearly. There is no need for raw material documents. As long as the weight of the goods is compared with the sales volume filled in the tax return, even a fool can see the trick.

"This involves the machinery of our steel mill. It's confidential. I have to ask the boss for permission—"

"You're keeping it a secret over a piece of molten iron?" Elon slammed the table and yelled, "Isn't this something fishy? Bring me all the subpoenas issued by the court! I want to see how many tax cases you've been involved in over the years—"

The supervisor scratched his head and forced a smile. "That's not true. We operate with integrity and have never underpaid a penny in taxes."

"Bring all the court subpoenas." Elon said lightly.

"Really? I've never been called by the city-state court for tax matters."

"So you want me to see the receipt?"

The supervisor called him his living dad.

"Hurry up and give the court flyer to the congressman," the supervisor gestured.

This can indeed be shown to Elon. The steel mill owner Kane has given countless gold pounds to the officials, but the tax bureau has never caused trouble for Kane Steel Mill, and naturally there is no court summons for tax cases.

There are a lot of labor disputes, but what big company doesn't have a ton of these subpoenas? Just hire a lawyer and wait and see. How can those ordinary people who don't even have household registration win a case?

The financial clerk didn't hold back and took out everything. After all, these things could be found in court, and showing them to him slowly could buy him some time.

It was a thick booklet, and when you opened it, it was basically full of cases of wage recovery, but there were very few losses. Kane Steel Plant only needed to produce evidence that its employees violated the so-called rules and regulations, and it could win a huge victory, and it could even turn the tables and file a counterclaim for compensation.

In addition to the court summons, there is also the employee file corresponding to the case, including photos, age, name, and household registration.

Elon flipped through the book very quickly. He didn't even look at the wage claims or work injury cases. He only picked out the subpoenas with the word "disability". After about five minutes, he had finished flipping through the entire book and picked out nearly thirty employee information sheets.

These are disabled workers, most of whom are paralyzed due to inhaling too much alchemical waste gas, and a small number of them are disabled due to work-related injuries.

Again, no one won.

Elon handed the stack of information to Xia Daier without saying anything.

Xia Daier began to look through the photos one by one, while Elon blocked her behind him to prevent the supervisor from seeing what Xia Daier was looking through.

After a while, Xia Daier handed the information back, but changed the top one.

She gave Elon a slight nod.

The employee in the top profile is named Bates Barnes, 41 years old, from Sudan in the Western Continent. Because he did not follow the regulations when stirring molten steel, his left arm was broken by the push rod. He resigned half a year ago.

The photo shows a sad face.

Apart from this, there is nothing more to the material.

Elon calmly tore the photo off the document, put the court summons back where it belonged, and asked the supervisor, "Where's your boss?"

"He, he has a client right now. But I can go get him right away!" The supervisor breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Elon was willing to torture his boss, no matter what happened, it wouldn't be his responsibility. "Go ahead."

Elon casually flipped through the bills on the table again, and the supervisor almost had a cardiac arrest.

About half a minute later, accompanied by hurried footsteps, a fat figure in a suit and tie appeared outside the finance office.

"Oh! Dear Mr. Congressman Elon, why did you come here without saying hello? Did my damn staff neglect you? I'm so sorry--" This fat old man who looks to be nearly seventy years old is the owner of Kane Steel Plant, a famous industrialist, philanthropist and banker in the city of Ashwell: Kane O'Connor.

His words suddenly paused, and his somewhat cloudy gaze fell on Xia Daier.

The last time I saw the Branson's little girl, she was only ten years old. In just six short years, she had grown into such a stunning beauty.

"Hey, fat pig, if you look again, I'll dig out your eyes." Xia Dai'er said coldly.

Immediately, she shrank behind her brother in disgust.

The old man's gaze made her feel nauseous instinctively. It was not a look of affection or admiration, but rather a look of naked greed and desire that was not concealed at all.

"Sorry, sorry, Mr. Kane. My sister is misogynistic, so please forgive me for being a bit rude." Elon's tone wasn't apologetic at all. Instead, he changed the subject: "You're busier than those workers! I've already walked around the steel mill, and you're still talking business."

"Haha, that's true." Kane laughed heartily, pretending he hadn't heard Xia Dai'er's scolding. "The workers just need to devote themselves to the steel mill, hammering iron and mining coal, but I have a lot to consider. But Mr. Congressman, what's the reason for all of a sudden doing this?"

Kane's eyes narrowed slightly. "My wife died in the jewelry store tragedy the day before yesterday. You swore to the reporters that you would catch the murderer, but now you're investigating the tax affairs of a victim's family. This is neither moral nor logical, isn't it?"

His attitude was respectful, but his eyes showed no respect.

Who can open a steel mill in Ashwell without some background knowledge?
"Ah"

Elon smiled slightly and said, "You misunderstood. Actually, I came here because of the jewelry store robbery."

"For... a robbery?" Kane's look of surprise didn't seem fake. "What does this have to do with me?"

Elon looked at him, a hint of a smile in his deep eyes.

"The robbers used arcane explosives to destroy the jewelry store's security center, so I suspect this may be related to the increasingly rampant smuggling of arcane artifacts. Law enforcement officers investigated airship cargo records for the past six months and discovered something very strange—your Kane Steel Company seems to be shipping 20 tons of apples to the East Country every two weeks?"

Kane's old face turned pale.

"Hey, I'm really curious. How can such a small area like Ashville grow so many apples?" He emphasized the pronunciation of the word "apple." "When did you start your fruit business? Is it because Ashville doesn't tax agricultural products that you're thinking of making a fortune?"

"This, this..." Kane thought to himself, this is so unlucky, you can find out that I am smuggling steel while investigating a robbery case?
"Hey, don't be nervous." Elon's demeanor suddenly changed. He patted his shoulder and smiled gently. "I'm only here to investigate the robbery as quickly as possible, so I'm not concerned about anything else. As for your Apple business... well, I hope it's legal and compliant."

"Of course, of course!"

Kane looked at the young man in surprise. Was he going to let him go?
Although he had a backer who protected him from going to jail, the amount of smuggling he had done over the years was not small, and the fines he had to pay were enough to make him suffer.

"There's just one thing." Elon lowered his voice and there was something hidden in his words.

The Branson family's wealth is far beyond Kane's, so they are certainly not asking for bribes.

"You mean..." Kane suddenly realized, "I understand. Don't worry, Kane Steel will give you its full support when you run for councillor at the end of the year!"

"Hahaha, you're welcome."

Elon shook his hand. "Actually, what I wanted to say is that a worker named Borso died in a molten steel explosion at your steel mill. After observing your production, I discovered that there are indeed some hidden dangers in the steelmaking process. Perhaps there was some misunderstanding between your employee who handled this matter and Borso's widow, but death is the greatest thing, so compensation and wages should still be paid—"

Kane glanced sideways at the stack of court summonses on the table. No wonder.
"Of course, of course." Kane shook his hand firmly, smiling brightly. "I, Kane O'Connor, never hesitate to compensate employees who died in the line of duty. This is my responsibility. Mr. Congressman, don't worry, it will be in place before this afternoon, I promise!"

"That's good. I won't bother you any more with business. Also, I'll leave the year-end election to you as well."

When Kane O'Connor returned to his office, he found the young guest standing by the window, looking at the rain, a cigar in his hand.

The snow-white, straight suit and trousers seemed to be the opposite of Elon who had just left in black. He had an obsidian complexion, but his eyebrows were not as sparse as those of ordinary people in the Western Continent, but very thick, which made his eyes seem to be shrouded in lush shade, looking particularly peaceful, like an elegant poet.

But Kane forced out his warmest smile and was even more polite than when he had received Elon before. The reason was simple: Elon was a man who played by the rules, but he was not.

The youngest gang leader in Sewell, the number of people he has killed over the years could be piled up into a pavilion taller than a blast furnace.

"Mr. Capone, I'm sorry, sorry, just now..."

"Just call me Ike. No need to be so polite." He put out his cigar and sat back on the sofa. "I think I saw a celebrity?"

"Yes, it's the heir to the Branson family, that Senator Elon. He's a very good young man. I think I will help him in the election at the end of the year."

"Really? What is he doing here?"

"It's just a small matter. I'm seeking compensation for a worker who was scalded to death by molten steel. Just like the rumors say, he's a compassionate guy. So of course I have to help him. I'll introduce you to each other when I have the chance. Haha, let's get back to business. Where were we just talking?"

"Regarding the dimensions of the custom-made weapons—"

Ike Capone smiled and pointed at the blueprint. "The barrel size is 7.62, I won't emphasize it. As for this part, it's called the fully automatic trigger."

(End of this chapter)