I control the AI ​​empire thanks to the geniuses in my group.

P.S. I'll be updating 10,000 words a day. The Newtonian world is about to end; tomorrow I'll be moving into the modern timeline.

The messenger announced that an inauguration ceremony would be held three days later.

Upon hearing that Charona was coming, Newton's anger flared up.

After angrily seeing the messenger off, he turned around and asked, "Su, what were you laughing at just now?"

"Because this is a golden opportunity!"

"What opportunity?"

"Charona has tried to get close to us time and time again, completely disregarding us!" Newton was furious. He grabbed the documents on the table and was about to throw them, but in the end, he couldn't bear to and put them down.

"Therefore, we can conclude that he is convinced that we can't do anything about him."

"What we need to do is to build as many transit points as possible for counterfeiters. He won't let the lower-level counterfeiters know who he is. At most, someone like One-Eyed Thomas will only know his superiors, who are the transit points responsible for shipping the goods to them."

"The same goes for the people at the transit station. The transit station has to connect with the upstream and downstream, and manage goods, people and accounts, but they may not have had any contact with Charona."

"So you're planning to find someone else?" Newton frowned.

"That's right, one of them must have been able to contact the other person."

Newton looked up: "Who?"

Su Zhou leaned down and whispered a name in Newton's ear.

Newton's brow furrowed even more: "How did you know about this person?"

Su Zhou thought to himself that he must have seen it in historical records.

There are many names in the information about Charona, but these foreign names have no discernible pattern, and he couldn't remember many of them. The person he revealed now is the only name he can confirm.

Unfortunately, he didn't know where the other party was hiding.

Su Zhou said mysteriously, "Mr. Newton, please trust the reliability of my information channels."

Newton did not refute this.

Su Zhou previously revealed that there had indeed been no mistakes.

"Tom will bring back more information about the low-level counterfeit currency dealers tonight. By cross-referencing the information, we can find the location of the transit points and the key figures."

"That's where we can start."

"So, Mr. Newton..."

"I need to borrow your brain."

Newton paused for a moment, then smiled, a rare occurrence for him: "You're quite the impolite one."

"Hehe, why be polite with a genius?"

Now that there are no computers, what can he rely on if not genius?

Su Zhou was very self-aware.

into the night.

Tom certainly didn't disappoint.

He pushed open the door and came in carrying a thick stack of documents. Behind him were two sharp-eyed young men, each carrying a stack of papers.

"Sir, we've got the situation in each district." Tom spread the documents on the table. "One-Eyed Thomas's supplier is called Jim, and he operates in Southwark. There's a guy named Matthew on the north bank of the Thames who's in charge of distributing counterfeit money around Chelsea. The East End is even more complicated, with at least three independent sales outlets..."

The documents covered the entire table.

Tom meticulously collected information on names, locations, times of activity, transaction frequency, and the distribution of counterfeit currency denominations, as requested by Su Zhou. He even marked the pubs frequented by some counterfeit currency dealers.

Su Zhou quickly flipped through the pages and looked up at Newton.

"Mr. Newton, there's a network hidden in these data. One-Eyed Thomas and Jim get their goods from the same transit point, but Red-Nosed Matthew takes a different route. If we can find the intersection of these two routes..."

"I know."

Newton rearranged all the materials by area and then read them page by page at a very fast pace, spending no more than ten seconds on each page.

After reading it all, Newton closed his eyes.

His brain started working.

The brain that once deduced the law of universal gravitation is now handling a completely different task, but in essence, it is no different from calculating the trajectory of celestial bodies.

Each counterfeit currency vendor is a node.

Each transaction is a connection.

Every time, place, and amount is a coordinate that can be cross-verified.

In Newton's mind, a vast network was taking shape.

One-Eyed Thomas, Southwark, is active every Tuesday and Friday, with single trades ranging from twenty to thirty shillings. His upline, Jim, picks up the goods from somewhere on Mondays and Thursdays, near a warehouse on the south bank of the Thames...

Red-Nosed Matthew, Chelsea district, is active on Wednesdays and Saturdays, trading in larger volumes of forty to fifty coins. His pickup schedule is a full day off from Jim's...

The three sales points in the eastern district had different activity times, but the denominations of counterfeit currency were highly consistent...

The timeline arranged, overlapped, and reorganized in my mind.

Geographic coordinates appear, connect, and converge in the void.

All the seemingly chaotic data points began to arrange themselves according to some hidden pattern!

Just as planets revolve around the sun, every counterfeit money dealer revolves around some unseen center.

What Newton had to do was to deduce the center from the orbit.

The two supply lines overlapped at a certain point in time.

Jim picks up his order every Monday, Matthew picks up his order every Tuesday, with only one day in between. The pickup times for the three sales points in the East District are Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, respectively.

A perfect assembly line.

They ship seven days a week, starting Monday with batches of goods, one batch per day, covering all of London.

This transit point must meet several conditions simultaneously: it must be close to the Thames River to facilitate deliveries between the north and south banks, have sufficient concealed space, and be located in a complex area with low pedestrian traffic to avoid attracting attention.

Newton's brow twitched slightly with his eyes closed.

Located between Southwark and Chelsea, near the river, it's a mixed area with a diverse population.

Su Zhou sat beside him, looking at Newton who was deep in thought with his eyes closed, and his envy was almost overflowing.

He knew that this person had invented calculus, derived universal gravitation, and conducted optical experiments; he was one of the greatest scientists in human history.

But the textbook didn't tell him that Newton's brain worked in this way when processing information.

Su Zhou had to go through that stack of documents twice before he could make sense of them, and he even had to use paper and pen to draw diagrams and annotations.

Newton only read it once.

Then I closed my eyes and started calculating.

This is not a human brain, it's clearly a 17th-century supercomputer!

Su Zhou looked down and touched his head, then glanced at Newton.

Forget it, I'm not going to compare anymore. Comparing people will only make me miserable!

Su Zhou was very open-minded.

What am I comparing to a humanoid GPU?

Newton then slowly opened his eyes.

He uttered a few words: "Lamborghini District."

the next day.

Lambeth District.

Sheriff Harold rode on horseback, followed by six fully armed men, as the group walked along the street on the south bank of the Thames.

Harold clutched a piece of paper in his hand, muttering to himself as he walked.

"Absurd, utterly absurd."

His deputy, Richie, rode alongside him on horseback, cautiously asking, "Sir, what's wrong?"

Do you know what I was supposed to be doing today?

Harold waved the paper in the air: "I should have taken men to investigate the French spies! The intelligence at the docks has been confirmed; two Frenchmen sneaked into London last week, very likely spies sent by Louis XIV. Solving this kind of case would be a huge achievement!"

"Where do we go now?"

"Go to a mill."

Harold's tone was full of resentment: "That Easterner, Su Zhou, the new supervisor at the mint, he insists that there's a counterfeit dealer's hideout in this mill. With just this little bit of information on paper, he dares to guarantee that he can catch them all?"

Harold stuffed the paper back into his pocket and shook his head.

"Then why did you come, sir?" Richie asked, puzzled.

Harold paused for a moment.

"Because it's the order of the Mint Supervisor," he said sullenly. "He's the King's newly appointed supervisor; I can't refuse him."

"But let me tell you, after this wasted trip, I'm going to have a serious talk with Mr. Newton. If the people investigating the French spy had found any important leads today, the credit should have been mine!"

"My promotion and raise depended on that case, but this Asian guy dragged me to see a mill. What's so interesting about a mill? Grinding flour?"

Richie wisely kept quiet.

The group turned into the third street along the river.

At the end of the street, a dusty mill came into view, its waterwheel creaking and turning, looking no different from the hundreds of other mills in London.

"See that?" Harold dismounted, curling his lip in disdain. "Just an ordinary mill. I bet five shillings there's nothing in it but flour..."

His words caught in his throat.

When they went around to the back of the mill, the sight inside stunned everyone.

Under the shed in the backyard, seven or eight people sat around several long tables.

Several piles of gleaming silver coins were stacked on the table, and each person had a cloth bag and an account book in front of them. They were counting money!

One of the men, a large, obese man, sat in the middle, scribbling on the ledger with a charcoal pencil in his hand, and muttering numbers to himself.

Harold's mind went blank for a moment.

The people under the shed hadn't noticed them yet.

Harold suddenly waved his hand.

"Let's do it!"

The six henchmen rushed forward.

The scene was very chaotic at one time.

The counterfeiters were terrified by the sudden attack. Two of them tried to escape by climbing over the wall, but Richie kicked them back one by one.

A fat man tripped and fell after taking two steps.

A few minutes later, everyone was pinned to the ground.

The coins on the table were scattered all over the floor.

Harold had the coins examined using the same methods the mint used to detect counterfeit coins.

A conclusion was reached quickly.

These coins are all fake!

Harold slowly turned around to face his men.

"Brothers, we've solved a major case!"

Richie leaned closer, glanced at the counterfeit money scattered on the floor and the prisoners lying on the ground, and chuckled, "Sir, now you've got a good chance of getting a promotion, right?"

Harold wrapped his arms around Richie's neck: "Hehe, of course!"

He looked up at the sky, overwhelmed with emotion.

"Mr. Su... no, Lord Su is truly amazing. How did he discover this mill inside the mint?" he muttered.

Richie watched as his superior's expression changed faster than flipping through a book, and silently chose to keep quiet.

Half an hour later.

Tower of London.

Harold led his men, escorting a string of tightly bound prisoners, through the gates of the Tower of London.

Richie muttered under his breath, "Sir, shouldn't prisoners be sent to Newgate Prison? Why are they coming this way?"

"Mr. Newton said to send it to the mint." Harold said without turning his head.

"A mint? A mint isn't a prison..."

"The Tower of London has its own prison, have you forgotten?" Harold glared at him. "Besides, what are you questioning about Mr. Newton's orders?"

Richie immediately shut up.

The mint was located between the outer and inner walls of the Tower of London, which itself is one of England's most famous prisons.

You can enter the interrogation area inside the tower by passing through a narrow alley from the back door of the mint.

Harold led his men into the interrogation area, where they found Newton standing alone at the door of a stone chamber, his hands behind his back, staring at them expressionlessly.

"Mr. Newton," Harold bowed, glancing around the empty room, "Are you alone? Should I have some of my men stay to help with the interrogation?"

"Need not."

"Tie the fat one to the chair, lock the rest in the next room, and then you can leave."

Harold did as instructed.

The fat man was tightly tied to an oak chair, his mouth was stuffed with a strip of cloth, his eyes were wide open, and he was making muffled noises.

As Harold's men left, he turned back for one last look.

Newton is opening a wooden box.

The door then closed.

In the corridor outside the interrogation area, two Tower of London guards stood watch.

Harold didn't leave immediately. He leaned against the wall and spoke to a guard: "Don't you need to go in and help?"

The guard shook his head expressionlessly: "Mr. Newton does not allow anyone to enter."

"But he's all alone..."

"Aaaaaaah!!!"

A heart-wrenching scream rang out from the stone chamber, piercing through the heavy oak door and bouncing back and forth in the corridor.

Harold was jolted.

"No!!!"

The second sound was even worse.

Harold's hand was already on his sword hilt. He looked at the guard and asked, "Will Mr. Newton be in danger? Should we go in?"

He had just taken one step out.

"Mr. Harold."

A calm voice came from the other end of the corridor.

Su Zhou appeared there at some point and was slowly walking over.

"Don't worry about Mr. Newton."

"But inside..."

"Aaaaaah, please!"

Another scream rang out.

Harold's face turned pale.

"Mr. Newton was the top mechanics expert in all of Europe."

"He's simply giving those counterfeiters a firsthand experience of the wonders of physics."

"For example, the decomposition and composition of forces, the lever principle, etc."

Su Zhou reassured the other party, "It's just a purely academic exchange, there's no need to make a fuss."

Harold is not a fool.

He understood.

His brain automatically translated it, and then a cold sweat broke out on his back.

The decomposition and synthesis of force refers to the force exerted by the joints in different directions.

The principle of a lever is that it's a pry.

Harold dared not think any further.

He suddenly realized an even more terrifying problem: he knew too much.

He was the one who captured these prisoners, and he overheard the interrogations. What if Mr. Newton later considers him a destabilizing factor...?

Harold decided to leave as soon as possible!

Soon, the footsteps of Harold and his group disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Su Zhou watched their retreating figures and shook his head helplessly.

Although this goes against the dignity of a great scientist, it is truly a last resort.

It's important to understand that in late 17th-century England, counterfeiting and cutting legal tender was not only a serious crime, but also explicitly defined as treason.

Once convicted, male offenders face the horrific punishment of hanging or even disembowelment, while female offenders are burned at the stake.

Under the threat of such extreme punishment, coupled with the lure of huge profits of tens of thousands of pounds behind the counterfeit money business, these counterfeiters active in London's underground black market are all desperate criminals who won't shed a tear until they see the coffin.

From cunning street thugs to powerful gang leaders, they had long since formed a tight network of interests, not only colluding with each other but also being adept at forging confessions and counter-surveillance.

When faced with these stubborn and unyielding individuals, traditional verbal interrogation is like scratching an itch through a boot.

If Newton hadn't personally taken concrete physical steps to let them experience firsthand the absolute truth of how the laws of mechanics work on human bones and pain receptors, these villains wouldn't have uttered a single word of the truth.

To save the British Empire's economy from collapse due to rampant counterfeiting, the father of classical mechanics clearly didn't mind temporarily putting down his quill and getting his hands dirty.

Su Zhou sat down on a stone bench outside and waited quietly.

After an unknown amount of time, Newton emerged.

His clothes were spotless, his cuffs were neatly trimmed, and not a single hair was out of place.

If Su Zhou didn't know what the other party had done, he definitely wouldn't be able to tell that Newton had just finished interrogating the prisoner.

As he walked, Newton meticulously wiped his hands with a handkerchief, then folded it neatly and put it back in his pocket.

"The person you mentioned does exist; we've already obtained their address."

He handed over a note.

Su Zhou took it and glanced at it.

Hey!

He actually found it!

It seems his memory is correct!

At the same time.

On the other side of London.

A tall man was wrapped in an old gray cloak, with the brim of his hat pulled down so low that it almost covered half of his face.

He had a fake beard glued to his chin and walked with a hunched back, looking no different from the ordinary dockworkers on the street.

William Charona looked around to make sure no one was watching him, then slipped into a narrow alley.

The alley twists and turns, finally stopping in front of an inconspicuous wooden door.

He tapped five times in a rhythmic manner.

The door opened a crack.

A wary eye peered at him through the crack in the door for a few seconds, then the door opened fully.

"Come in."

The room wasn't big, but it was very tidy.

The workbench against the wall was filled with various metal tools: carving knives, files, small forging hammers, magnifying glasses, crucibles, and several unfinished metal templates.

Nathanil Peck was a thin man, around fifty years old, who wore thick glasses.

"Business has been good lately." Charona took off his cloak and got straight to the point. "The last batch of goods has all been sold out; not a single one is left."

Peck nodded, but his face didn't show much joy.

"You need to make more molds."

Charona sat down, his commanding tone leaving no room for argument: "Demand will at least double. The minting spree has caused all of London to be exchanging for new coins. People don't have enough money to spend, and the demand for silver coins in the market is skyrocketing. This is a golden window of opportunity; once it's gone, it'll be gone forever."

"We should take this opportunity to make as much money as possible!"

Peck pushed up his glasses and hesitated before speaking, "What I'm worried about is the mint. If Newton upgrades the anti-counterfeiting features again, such as new edge patterns or new relief details, then all the molds on my side will have to be redone."

"Newton?" Charona scoffed.

"What can he do?"