Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 287 The Monster of Concord
Larry and his two companions did not arrive in Concord until 6 p.m.

By this time, it was already getting dark. After the three of them left the small train station in Concord, Matthew pointed to the end of a side street in front of the station square, "Go west along this road and you'll reach Concord's industrial area. Our Browning Brothers Firearms Company is located there..."

The Belgian looked in the direction Matthew was pointing and said with a smile, "Alright! Let's not delay, let's go now."

"Would you like some dinner?" Larry asked.
The Belgian shook his head seriously. "I'd rather see Mr. Browning right away than have dinner."

It's only a 15-minute walk from the town's train station to the Concord industrial area. The three of them admired the quaint town of Concord along the way, casually discussing the founding war that took place here a hundred years ago.

After walking about half a mile along the riverbank, behind a gentle slope, came a row of seemingly clumsy and rustic, yet actually well-planned wooden buildings. This was the Browning brothers' gun workshop and testing ground, while the conspicuous reinforced concrete building on the riverbank was the foundry.

When the Belgian heard Matthew say that this was a gun factory, his face immediately turned serious, and he kept praising, "The location of this workshop is very clever. It is far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, quiet enough; it is also close to the lake and forest, and convenient for outdoor testing!"

Matthew smiled and exchanged a few polite words before leading the Belgian into the gun factory.

There was no guard at the entrance to the gun factory. The iron gate was ajar, and a large black dog was standing at the door, about to bark, but when it saw Matthew, it immediately wagged its tail.

The three of them could hear the clanging and banging sounds coming from inside the workshop from afar.

Larry hadn't been to Concord for a long time. In contrast to his previous impression of it being deserted, a large-scale and well-organized formal gun factory had emerged here.

The raw material area, machining area, heat treatment workshop, woodworking workshop, and assembly workshop each have different processes and clear functional divisions. Although it is somewhat rudimentary, the tools, semi-finished products, and materials are all arranged meticulously, without the mess and noise of an ordinary workshop.

It's clear that Browning is truly dedicated to running his company.

Several craftsmen and technicians saw Matthew and hurriedly raised their hats to him in greeting, but Larry did not recognize any of them.

“Where is my brother? Where is he?” Matthew asked one of them.

"Mr. Brownie is machining mechanical parts; you can just go to the workshop to find him," the other party replied.

The three walked to the workshop entrance and saw several mechanical technicians in the distance, each performing their duties, holding tools and hammering away at the machine tools. The rhythmic clanging of metal echoed, like a heavy metal concerto belonging to this era.

The air in the workshop was thick with the acrid smell of cutting fluid and the mixed odor of fresh wood. Larry looked around, then turned to the Belgian and said, “You see, the essence of managing a business lies not in how large it is, but in the fact that the factory must be like a watch movement, with every gear precisely in place, and even more precisely. Mr. Browning has always been that meticulous.”

The Belgian nodded in agreement, "As you say, that is indeed the case."

The three walked to the deepest part of the assembly workshop and saw John Moses Browning, who was standing bent over next to a workbench covered with blueprints, the glow of a gas lamp enveloping him and a detailed model of a gun mechanism in his hands.

John Browning didn't even notice anyone approaching; he was completely absorbed in that little metal world.

“Brother, look who’s here?” Matthew took two steps forward and said to John Browning. “Wait a minute!” John Browning shook his head before Matthew could get close.

Larry, somewhat curious, took half a step forward and saw Browning's fingers trace the lines on the picture, lost in thought for a moment. Then he picked up a file and made minor adjustments to the model. A moment later, he held it up to the light of the gas lamp and kept examining the new parts he had just finished.

Larry turned and smiled at the Belgian, saying softly, "That's just how Mr. Browning is; once he's focused, no one can disturb him."

Berg continued to nod, straightened his clothes, and waited for Browning to finish his work.

After a while, Browning finally put down the gun part in his hand with a hint of satisfaction. He looked up at Matthew, not surprised by his arrival, and said, "I received your telegram! When is Mr. Browning coming?"

“They’re here!” Matthew pointed behind him.

"Ah, you've come," Browning said hastily, standing up and placing the gun parts he was holding on the table. He removed his gloves, smiled and greeted Larry, and strode over to the Belgian.

“If I’m not mistaken, you are the business representative of the Belgian company FN.” Browning walked up to the Belgian, wiping the grease off his hands as he looked at him.

“It is a great honor to meet you, Mr. John Browning!” The Belgian was both serious and smiling.

“You don’t need to be so polite. I’m just an ordinary gunsmith,” Browning said politely.

“No! Sir, you are currently the most famous firearms master in America. I even think that Mr. Maxim, who has lived in England for a long time, is not as knowledgeable about firearms as you. This is also the consensus of my Belgian colleagues,” Berg continued to flatter.

John Browning smiled and waved his hand, saying, "Not at all. The people in this town call me the monster of Concord, saying that their town has never had a moment of peace since I arrived."

“That’s because they don’t know your great name. To be honest, after meeting you, I had a strange feeling, as if we should have known each other long ago,” Berg said seriously.

Upon hearing this from the Belgian, John Browning also showed a surprised expression. "You know what, I have the same strange feeling! It's as if I've known you for a long time. When you stand in front of me, I have an unusual sense of familiarity. Maybe I'm dreaming, or maybe it's God's arrangement!"

The Belgian looked very serious. He nodded and said, "My God! You think so too? Well, I thought my feeling of familiarity just now was an illusion... but it seems it wasn't."

Larry chuckled and took two steps forward, patting each of their arms with both hands. He said with a smile, "Your familiarity must be for a reason! Let me think, if I hadn't shown up, this is how the story would have gone. Mr. Berg would have invited John Browning to Belgium, and you, Mr. John Browning, would have become a firearms engineer in Belgium and made a name for yourself there!"

The three of them burst into laughter upon hearing Larry's words, all thinking he was joking.

But Larry himself knew that this was the truth, because it had been so in his previous life. Berg was Browning's mentor, who eventually took him to Europe and kept him at FN in Belgium.

(End of this chapter)