I bought a prison in the United States.

Hammond's jaw tightened instantly.

Underwood made no accusations, yet he precisely exposed the deepest prejudices and exclusion in his heart.

He disliked Ringo, but perhaps not only because of his skin color.

The outsider, who had nothing, remained calm and fearless in the face of his pressure and attempts to win him over.

This composure, neither humble nor arrogant, thoroughly stung his authority that had held sway for twenty years!

"I don't deny that he does have some abilities, but are you determined to support him?"

Hammond lowered his voice, his tone shifting from forceful pressure to a subtle probing.

"Underwood, you'd better think this through. Tulsa's resources are finite; the pie is only so big."

"The entry of strong new players will inevitably disrupt the old order."

"Your family has been operating locally for three generations, and your roots are tied to this county."

"In case there is a riot, a prison break, or a financial scandal in his prison."

"Everyone associated with him will be implicated."

Underwood shook his head, a hint of boredom in his gaze as he looked at Hammond:

"Robert, I've known for a long time that we won't get along, but I never imagined that your vision would be this short-sighted."

He used such contemptuous words as if he were mocking the other party for being so ignorant as a judge.

"The Tulsa World is not a sales company that makes money based on so-called integrity and reputation."

"Our readers want to see sensational stories and news. If there were a riot and a prison break in his prison, that would be exactly what everyone loves to see."

Hammond's face twitched, but his professionalism as a judge prevented him from reacting.

Underwood stared intently at Hammond, then sneered and said:

"That Chinese man was much bolder than you think; he handed over the prison accounts to my reporter without reservation."

"Income, expenses, loans, debts, and personal advances are all clearly recorded, with no concealment whatsoever."

"What did you say?"

Hammond looked incredulous upon hearing this.

Even though he had seen so many madmen and fools in court, not one of them dared to expose their most important weakness to the media. This was practically a death sentence for them!

Underwood observed Hammond's expression and continued:

"Robert, tell me."

"What's so scary about someone who lays all their cards on the table?"

"On the other hand, you have been in power in the county court for fifteen years, with the authority to issue thousands of judgments."

"Would you dare to publicly disclose your entire financial statement to the media for verification?"

Hammond remained silent, his fingers gripping the sofa armrests so tightly they turned pale.

The answer was clear to both of them.

Underwood's rhetoric was layered and intricate, starting with the prison ledgers and gradually circling around until he finally locked onto the Achilles' heel that he dared not touch.

Over the years, how much bribery has Hammond, this seemingly upright and impartial judge, actually accepted?

How many industries in McLean County have his name behind them?

The room fell into a very long, deathly silence.

Underwood picked up the slightly cool tea, took a slow sip, and remained expressionless.

"Your purpose in coming here today is probably to get me to suppress this report."

"I'm telling you plainly, Le Monde will not publish fake news without evidence, nor will it suppress the truth based on facts."

"Believe it or not, the newspaper will still be published every week as usual."

"No, Hollis, please, I'll beg you this once!"

Hammond's tone finally carried a hint of compromise, and his composed demeanor could no longer be maintained:

"This report will have a huge impact on me. We've known each other for over a decade. Could you please make an exception for me this once?"

Underwood got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

The setting sun painted the Tulsa skyline in a twilight hue of orange-red and gray-blue.

"Robert, we don't have any personal grudges, but as for friendship... you know I don't like playing golf."

"For the past ten years or so, you've never helped me or the newspaper in the slightest, and now you want me to make an exception?"

Underwood turned his head, a slightly amused smile playing on his lips:

"Tell me, on what grounds?"

"Is it based on friendship and mutual benefit, or because you have leverage that I need?"

Hammond pursed his lips into a straight line and remained silent.

"No, none of them."

Underwood answered for him:

"Your authority is limited to the boundaries of McLean County. That small county of 20,000 people is not worth my attention, and my businesses don't need your money."

"My newspaper covers the entire northeastern state of Oklahoma."

"In this room, you're never the one who can control the situation."

Hammond jumped up, his cheeks flushed red, but he suppressed his anger and his voice was stiff!

"Hollys, you'll regret this. I've remembered what you said today!"

Underwood nodded, as if relieved that the other party was understanding:

"Just remember it. Remembering what others say is the most basic professional quality of a judge."

"No need to see me out."

Hammond turned and walked toward the door, his body stiffening slightly as he grasped the doorknob.

He wanted to turn back and say something to salvage the situation, but all he saw was the cold indifference on Underwood's face, and he could only angrily push the door open and leave.

The heavy footsteps gradually faded into the distance in the empty corridor.

Underwood sat back in his office chair, took a cigar from his cigar case, trimmed the end with silver scissors, and ignored the judge who had stormed off in anger.

Hammond was never afraid of the newspaper's influence.

What he fears is this power that relies on truthful, open, and transparent information.

Unrestricted by constituencies, unbound by official positions, and not controlled by the gavel.

If it is readable by everyone, it also means that it is judged by everyone.

As night completely fell over the Tulsa horizon, Hammond stepped out of the hotel.

A cold wind swirled with withered leaves into the lobby, causing his tie to stick tightly to his lapel.

He stood under the porch, looking at the construction site across the street.

In the twilight, the towering steel frame of the crane stood silently, cold and massive.

He hadn't been this disheveled in a long time.

Being refuted to one's face, having one's weaknesses exploited, and being completely at a disadvantage.

When was the last time?

He couldn't remember, or perhaps he never had in his life.

Hammond got into the car and started the engine, but Underwood's words kept echoing in his mind:

"Chen handed over the prison's complete ledgers to my reporter."

This information shocked him and made him feel uneasy.

Ringo made no attempt to hide anything, openly exposing himself to the sunlight, which was precisely the environment Hammond was least comfortable with.

When a person hiding behind the rules confronts a person standing in the sunlight, the former will always feel more guilty than the latter.

On the way back, he was so distracted that he didn't turn on the radio.

Hammond mentally reorganized his forces, refusing to believe he was completely without options.

In any case, he has been involved in politics for more than 20 years.

If newspaper reporting can't stop it, then we can't give Ringo any breathing room!

We must use legal administrative means to force him into a position where he cannot fight back before the report is published!