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

"He's just a bookworm who likes to do academic research!"

Charona was illiterate, and he was furious whenever Newton was mentioned.

He felt that Newton was arrogant and looked down on others just because he was educated!

Charona stood up and paced around the room a few times.

"And even if he gets promoted, Peck, so what? Who in all of England is better at die-cutting than you? You were the chief apprentice of the goldsmiths' guild back in the day. Even if Newton made all sorts of changes to the anti-counterfeiting marks, you could still replicate the same mold in three days."

Peck felt much better after hearing this, but he still had some concerns: "That being said, what if someone gives my name..."

"impossible."

Charona categorically denied it: "Those people selling counterfeit money down there might not even know who's in charge of the transit station, let alone you. You never show your face, you never have direct contact with any of your downlines, and I personally took all the molds."

"Apart from me, the only people in the entire chain who know of your existence are the managers of the two transit stations."

"They'll keep their mouths shut in order to earn more money," Charona said confidently.

"Besides, this is London, with half a million people crammed into such a small place. There are thousands of workshops just along the banks of the Thames. Who would notice you, an old man quietly staying at home doing your craft?"

"Even if Newton searched every house in the world, he would never find you."

Peck finally smiled: "Mr. Charona is right."

"Of course."

Charonna straightened his collar: "And don't forget, I have connections in Parliament and in the Treasury. In two days, I'll be personally attending the inauguration ceremony of the new Superintendent of the Mint. That Newton you mentioned will have to stand in the audience and watch me and His Excellency Montagu stand together."

"I heard that the new supervisor is an Asian?" Peck asked curiously.

"Just one Asian."

Charona waved his hand dismissively: "I don't know where they found Newton. Probably just for show, some kind of grandstanding about recruiting talent. What kind of waves can a foreigner who doesn't even understand the English coinage system make?"

"I'm going to give him a gift at his inauguration ceremony."

He smiled, not intending to continue the topic.

"By the way, Peck, just go ahead and get to work. I won't rush you on the quality of the molds, but the quantity must keep up. For the next batch, I need five complete shilling molds and three gold ginni molds, within two weeks."

Peck gasped. "Five shillings and three gold gins? Mr. Charona, are you planning to build gold gins?"

"Of course, that way you can earn more."

"But we have to do all this within two weeks..."

"The pay will be doubled."

Peck shut his mouth.

He nodded: "Two weeks, no problem."

"That's more like it."

Charona patted him on the shoulder, put his grey cloak back on, and pulled the brim down further. "Peker, I've told you many times, what we're doing isn't a crime, what we're doing is redistributing wealth."

"The silver in England is all in the hands of those noble lords and East India Company merchants. We don't even have money to buy bread. We are just taking back what is rightfully ours."

Peck chuckled: "If you were to become a priest, even the Archbishop of York would have to step aside."

"Hahaha!"

The two of them laughed for a while.

Charona walked to the door, glanced back, and said, "By the way, be careful lately. Keep the doors and windows closed, and don't see any unfamiliar faces."

"Don't worry, there are only six households living in this alley. I can tell who comes and who leaves even with my eyes closed."

"That's good."

Charona pushed open the door and went out, disappearing into the shadows of the narrow alley.

Peck closed the door, bolted it, and checked the windows again.

Then he sat down at the worktable.

Five sets of shilling molds and three sets of gold gin molds, to be delivered in two weeks.

The work wasn't easy, but the pay was doubled, enough for him to live comfortably for more than half a year.

He took a pre-cast copper blank from the drawer, clamped it in a vise to secure it, picked up the finest carving knife, squinted at the candlelight, and began to work.

The tip of the engraving tool moved across the surface of the bronze blank, and fine lines, as thin as hair, gradually took shape on the metal, forming the profile of William III's face, the inscription letters...

That's Peck's talent.

The rise and fall of his breathing did not affect the tip of the knife in the slightest.

Peck hummed a little tune as he carved, in a good mood.

Charona is right. These days there are thousands of craft workshops in London. Who could find a mold maker who never shows his face?

Newton?

He's just a learned person.

That Asian man?

That's even less likely.

Peck chuckled and continued working.

The engraving knife moved steadily forward, and fine copper shavings fell, gradually revealing the lines of William III's nose.

Time passed little by little.

The sky outside the window changed from gray to dark gray, and then from dark gray to dim yellow.

Peck lit the second candle and worked smoothly. He had completed most of the front of the first shilling mold and began to carve the last two letters of the inscription.

Boom, boom, boom.

Three knocks on the door.

Peck's hand paused.

No one should be here at this time.

Charona had only been gone for less than half a day, so it was impossible for him to be back so soon. The neighbors in the alley were all early risers; they didn't even leave their homes after dark.

Boom, boom, boom.

Three more sounds.

Peck slowly put down his carving knife, quietly put the copper blank and mold on the workbench into the hidden compartment, closed the cover, and then casually tossed a few rags on top.

He walked to the door, but instead of opening it, he pressed his ear against the door and asked in a low voice, "Who is it?"

"Peker, we're here to check the safety of your house. A while ago, a family's house caught fire, and one person burned to death. Open the door now."

"If you don't open it, don't blame us if something happens!"

Peck breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just a fire prevention inspection.

He had heard about the fire that killed someone in a house a while ago, and it was normal for the city's security officers to go door-to-door to check things.

He reached out and pulled open the latch.

The door had just been opened a crack...

"Bang!"

The door was slammed open from the outside with tremendous force, hitting Peck directly in the face. He staggered back a few steps, and before he could regain his balance, two burly men rushed in and grabbed his arms from the left and right.

Harold strode across the threshold, kicked aside the stool blocking his way, and yelled, "Grab this guy! Search him! Turn this house upside down! Every nook and cranny, every floor, every ceiling—don't miss an inch!"

"What are you doing! I'm a legitimate craftsman!"

Peck struggled and shouted, "What right do you have to barge in here!"

"Shut up."

Harold didn't even glance at him.

His last gamble at the mill had given him a taste of success.

The information Su Zhou provided was as accurate as divine revelation; if he said there was counterfeit money, then there was counterfeit money; if he said who it was, then it was who it was; even the location was exactly right.

When he received the new mission, he set off with his men without saying a word, without even a single complaint.

"Sir! Mr. Su is right, he really is over here!"

Richie's voice came from the workbench.

He lifted the rag, pulled back the cover, and the contents of the hidden compartment were on full display: a semi-finished copper billet mold, a set of precision engraving knives, several half-carved shilling front templates, and a small can of alloy raw materials for casting.

Harold went over and took a look, then gasped.

Last time, they caught someone selling counterfeit money at the mill; this time, they caught someone making counterfeit money.

These are completely different things!

Those who sell counterfeit money are the small fry; those who make counterfeit money are the big fish!

"Pack everything up and take it with us!" Harold exclaimed excitedly. "Don't leave anything behind!"

Pek was forced to the ground by two burly men, his face pressed against the cold stone floor, his mind blank.

impossible.

It is absolutely impossible.

No more than four people in all of London knew his name.

Who leaked the information?!

He has lived in this alley for six years.

Six years.

No one ever doubted him.

The neighbors only knew him as a quiet old man who did small repairs and maintenance, never caused trouble, and never visited other people's homes.

How did it get exposed?

Which part of the process went wrong?

He couldn't figure it out.

Charoner clearly said that Newton could not find him, and that Easterner could not find him either. Among the 500,000 people and thousands of workshops in London, he was just a needle in a haystack!

But why has he been found now?

You even know what he hid in the secret compartment?!

"Impossible..." he murmured, "Impossible..."

Harold crouched down, grabbed Peck's sparse hair, lifted his head up, and looked him in the eye.

"Old man, I advise you to confess honestly later, or else..." He leaned closer and lowered his voice, "you'll be in for it!"

Peck shuddered.

Harold chuckled, slammed Peck's head back to the ground like a chick, then stood up and dusted off his hands.

"Especially in front of Mr. Newton and Mr. Su, you'd better be smart."

"Especially Mr. Su."

"He knows everything," Harold said, his face full of admiration.

"Mr. Su..." Peck recalled what Charona had said just half a day ago.

That new Asian guy?!

Didn't Charonnai say he was just a pretentious outsider who didn't even understand the English coinage system?

Didn't Charona say he was absolutely safe?!

Peck was instantly overwhelmed by endless panic and the illusion of betrayal.

"Take him away!" Harold waved his hand.

Two burly men roughly tied Peck's hands behind his back and bound them tightly with hemp rope. Then, a musty-smelling burlap sack was placed over his head, plunging the world into darkness.

Peck heard the clanging of the engraving knife and the copper blank being swept into the wooden box, and the sound of his own house door being slammed shut.

Then, he was dragged and shoved into a horse-drawn carriage that smelled of horse manure.

The wheels rolled over the uneven cobblestone streets of London, making his stomach churn, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the fear in his heart.

He's finished.

As the mastermind behind the production of counterfeit currency molds, the noose of treason is already beckoning to his neck.

Two days later.

The Royal Mint.

On the day of the inauguration ceremony.

Outside the mint gate, a group of people blocked the intersection, their emotions running high.

"Oppose! Strongly oppose!"

"Why should an Asian be in charge of England's mint?"

"Our coins feature the portrait of King William, not some Eastern emperor!"

"Go back! Tell him to go back to the East!"

The crowd numbered about forty or fifty people, including dockworkers, small vendors, and a few well-dressed citizens. They held up handwritten signs with slogans written crookedly, such as "The English Mint needs no foreigners."

It caused quite a commotion.

A horse-drawn carriage stopped outside the crowd.

Montagu frowned as he looked at the group of protesters, his expression not very pleasant.

"What's going on?"

"Public opinion, Your Excellency," Charonna, sitting next to him, sighed.

He pretended to be very troubled and said, "The common people still have a lot of objections to the fact that an Easterner is serving as the supervisor."

"That's the country's purse; it's unsettling to let a foreigner manage it."

Montagu remained silent.

Charonna added fuel to the fire: "I'm not questioning Mr. Newton's judgment, it's just that this appointment was indeed a bit... hasty."

"This Mr. Su Zhou, it is said, has never held public office in England before. Whether he truly understands the coinage system is anyone's guess. If something goes wrong, and Parliament investigates, I'm afraid..."

"Alright." Montagu raised his hand to interrupt him, "The man was recommended by Newton, and His Majesty the King has already signed the authorization decree. The deed is done."

What can he do now?

Montagu's tone carried a hint of impatience: "Let's take it one step at a time."

Charona wisely kept quiet.

He glanced at the group of protesters, feeling quite satisfied.

He hired these people for two pence each, in real money, of course, because he could afford that amount of money.

Escorted by guards, the two made their way through the crowd and into the mint.

Inside the mint hall, the inauguration ceremony had been arranged.

The hall was not spacious, but it was decorated in a solemn and dignified manner.

In the very center was a long table covered with a dark blue velvet tablecloth, on which lay a royal warrant and a Bible.

Standing on both sides were all the mint's officials and artisan representatives, about thirty people in total, all wearing formal uniforms, with different expressions.

The mint director rarely showed up, but he sat there intently fiddling with his glasses, completely ignoring the other managers.

Newton, dressed in a black suit, stood behind the long table, expressionless, waiting for everyone to enter.

Newton greeted Montague as he led Charona in.

"Now that everyone's here, let's begin." Montagu took his seat at the head table.

Charona sat down as well, crossed his legs, and looked around, as if he were watching a good show.

The side door opens.

Su Zhou walked in.

He was dressed in a well-tailored British suit, a dark blue coat, a white shirt, his hair was neatly combed, his back was straight, and his steps were unhurried.

To be honest, judging by his demeanor alone, few of the British people present had more charisma than him.

Su Zhou walked to the long table and stood facing the crowd.

Newton whispered a suggestion: "Place your left hand on the Bible, and raise your right hand."

Su Zhou did as instructed.

"Take an oath."

Su Zhou cleared his throat and began reciting the oath of office in fluent English.

"I, Su Zhou, solemnly swear before Almighty God..."

"Loyal to His Majesty King William III..."

"To be dutiful and to uphold the dignity and order of the Royal Mint..."

"To fulfill the duties of a supervisor with impartiality, diligence, and integrity..."

He memorized this oath until very late last night.

The spelling and pronunciation of 17th-century English differed considerably from the modern English he had learned, and he had to memorize several words by rote.

Newton even added two Latin prayers to him on the spot, which almost drove him crazy. Fortunately, he had a good memory and managed to memorize them using the mnemonic device that Chinese students are best at, which prevented him from messing up on the spot.

After the oath was recited, sparse applause rang out.

Montagu nodded slightly from the head table.

The young man was indeed well-mannered, polite, and sincere, much better than he had expected.

Perhaps Newton's perspective does have some merit.

Charona clapped twice, wearing a polite smile, but inwardly he scoffed.

Just because you wear British clothes and say a few nice words, does that mean you're British?

He wanted to see how long this Easterner could stay in that position.

Su Zhou lowered his hand, turned to face Montagu, and bowed slightly.

"Your Excellency Minister Montagu, thank you for attending the inauguration ceremony."

He racked his brains and tried his best to say politely, "It is a great honor for me to be appointed as the Superintendent of the Royal Mint. I know the weight of this responsibility. The mint is not only minting coins, but also the credit and dignity of England."

Montagu nodded slightly: "Well said. I hope you will live up to His Majesty's trust."

"must."

Su Zhou straightened up and paused for a moment: "Also, Your Excellency, Minister."

"Um?"

"To express my gratitude and to demonstrate my sincerity to Your Excellency, I have prepared a special gift, which I hope Your Excellency will accept with pleasure."

Montagu raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What gift?"

All eyes in the room turned to him.

Charona also looked at Su Zhou curiously, a playful smile on her lips.

Gift-giving in the East?

Silk? Tea? Porcelain? Or some other strange and unusual thing?

Su Zhou smiled and raised his hand, gesturing towards the side door.

"Bring it up."

The side door opened.

Two guards from the Tower of London entered.

There was a person supporting them.

The man was disheveled, with dirty hair and his hands tied in front of him. He was walking with his head down and staggering steps, being half-dragged and half-pulled by the guards to the center of the hall.

The entire room fell into a deathly silence.

Montagu's smile froze on his face.

Charona's legs were still crossed, and the teacup in his hand was suspended in mid-air.

Su Zhou's voice rang out in the quiet hall, not loud, but every word was clear.

"Raise your head."

The person slowly raised their head.

A thin face covered with tiny scars was revealed.

The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose were broken in one piece. Behind the remaining lens, one eye stared in terror, while the other was so swollen that it was barely a slit.

It's Nathan Nils Peck!

Charona's face turned pale in an instant.

He then glared fiercely at Peck, as if to warn him.

The moment their eyes met, Peck shuddered and lowered his head.

"Your Excellency, this is the person who makes the molds for counterfeit currency."

After Su Zhou finished speaking, his eyes turned to Charona.

Hehe, you little brat, just wait and see how I deal with you!