Chapter 1978 - 536: See Whose Blood Runs Dry First_3

And that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the investments by the Langbane family.

As for the rest of the money, they couldn't possibly spend it all, so they deposited it in the bank on Queen Street, exchanged it for stocks in the Colin Group and the Royal Railway Company, and waited for them to pay off.

Although the relationship between the Campbell family and the Devalu family had reached a freezing point, Newcastle wasn't naive enough to think that Edward would openly confront those generous Ryan Nobles.

After all, the swindlers in Thunder City were miserly to the extreme; even donating a steam engine to a school took a long time to haggle over. And these noble Ryan Nobles invested without caring about profit and loss, only about the long term.

They impulsively placed the theater next to the New Industrial Zone, indifferent to whether Miss Marie would visit, though it ended up benefiting the poor in Thunder City.

Meanwhile, Baron Wickton was still at his wit's end in his office, trying to squeeze the last drop of oil from the bakers using the Royal Guard, much like when he used the Royal Guard to snatch the cake from the Stone Masonry Guild's hands.

The baker who was willing to mix sawdust into the bread was actually the most conscientious good person in Roland City. At least those true gentlemen neither stole nor robbed, and the chance of choking on sawdust was not as high, much better than the locksmith who helped thieves pick locks.

Newcastle didn't tell the young man in front of him about this sad affair, nor was he willing to shatter his dream and let him know he was also an accomplice in this conspiracy, and might not escape judgment at the end.

He silently reached his hand into the inner pocket of his coat and took out a banknote, gently placing it on the corner of the dining table.

It was a bill with a face value of one silver pound; a few months ago, he had suggested using it to pay Ryan's salary, but had been ridiculed by the other party.

And now, as the feather-light piece of paper lay on the table, the eyes of the young Ryan were like magnets, unable to move away.

"Take it."

Newcastle gently pushed the banknote over.

"Go take a walk by the docks along the Rushing River, any dock will do."

The largest black market in Roland City was situated along the Rushing River, especially the slum area burnt by the winter fires, the only place in all of Roland City where conscience could still be purchased. Initially, it only supported payment in gold coins, but later it was heard to also support the silver coins of the Luo De Kingdom and the silver pounds of the Campbell Duchy.

This secret was shared with him by Sir Skidgin of the Royal Guard, because Skidgin also needed to eat.

Previously, Newcastle's manservant would take silver pounds there to purchase daily necessities. But ever since he connected with Miss Marie Langbane, he had not sent a servant there to buy anything for a long time.

Those items that couldn't even be bought would be delivered to his home every now and then, and he rarely ate at his own place.

"You will find the flour you want, and bread…"

"And, the answer you are looking for."

Carrying that heated piece of paper, Ryan muddle-headedly left the boss's apartment, unable to remember how he got home.

Perhaps he ate too much, he fell asleep as soon as he lay down, and slept until morning, nearly missing his work time.

Fortunately, Mr. Newcastle's company business wasn't busy; they didn't deal in the usual trades. Although Baron Wickton was worried sick over the Royal Vault, it didn't prevent him from very honestly extending his hand into Your Majesty's vault and taking his share.

After all, Roland City couldn't be without fire extinguishers, and the leaking oil in that barrel was to cultivate his own direct line, ultimately aiding Your Majesty.

While Baron Wickton was comforting himself, the young Ryan named Ryan was also comforting himself, clutching that hot piece of paper and going to the docks by the Rushing River after work.

The river had boats coming and going, but few stopped at the dock. And those bakers Mr. Newcastle called good people mostly closed early for the night, unknown where they had gone.

In truth, if you think about it carefully, bread itself is a waste; grinding wheat into flour loses unknown nutrition.

The pressure shifted to the raw material suppliers for the bakers, and the small grain vendors whose clients were mainly coachmen, and now included citizens appearing from nowhere.

Ryan walked dazedly for a long time, still unable to find the black market Newcastle spoke of, unsure whether to sigh or be thankful.

But one thing was undeniable: his shrewd employer also had moments of poor judgment, a "smart person" who could only flap his gums.

This big businessman had never personally been to the old dock he spoke of; his tales were hearsay from storms and winds.

And ironically, Ryan didn't realize that Newcastle wasn't smart, working under that gentleman, he was equally "matched."

He always believed the Upper City District wouldn't hide foul deeds, so he chose the Lower City District to drill, wandering in a filthy slum after circling for half a day.

If he managed to find it, it would be sheer luck; the well-fed didn't shut doors, they also placed door signs outside the homes of the hungry.

Inexperienced Ryan wandered like a headless fly in the maze-like alleys, failing to find the legendary black market where anything could be bought until sunset.

This street area without street lamps was about to be engulfed by darkness entirely, yet he heard an exclamation by his ear.

"Saint Sis above…"