Chapter 67: A World Unlike Any Other

Some people intended to make things difficult for him, but William White paid it no mind; he wasn’t afraid of ordinary commercial tactics. Once his futures in London were settled, he would have no financial pressure to worry about. The consortium’s methods were nothing more than banks exerting pressure, forcing you to sell assets cheaply, perhaps with the tax department lending a hand. In the securities market, they could try hostile takeovers or short selling, but William White wasn’t concerned about those either—at worst, he’d just package everything and sell it.

The consortium wielded enormous power, and they quickly got a clear picture of the situation.

“Boss, there’s a problem with White Oil’s shareholding. There’s a severe shortage of circulating shares in the market. Our investigation shows they’ve been quietly accumulating stock.”

“Hmph, are they planning to trick the Hunt family?” said an old man with a head of white hair.

“Yes, boss. We have reason to believe their holdings exceed fifty percent. The Hunt family’s acquisition is nothing but a joke.”

“Wait a minute, where did they get the funds? Did they use money from the software company or the film company?” As the Citibank consortium, they could easily access William White’s account information.

“No, those accounts are perfectly normal. Except for overseas earnings not repatriated in time, there’s nothing unusual.”

Of course, Citibank wasn’t the only one trying to figure things out, but they had ample resources.

“Boss, there’s another possibility.” Seeing the man hesitate, the old fellow shot him a glare.

“Speak.”

“The futures market.”

“Hmph, are you saying those funds belong to William White?”

“Yes, boss. Although it’s hard to trace right now, the operators behind the trades can’t hide.”

“Any concrete evidence?”

“Based on the founding dates of these companies and the timing when William White took over the family business, they coincide. Also, during that period, the Hunt family was trying to acquire White Oil maliciously. Judging from his recent behavior, he’s clearly someone who never forgets a grudge.”

“Tsk tsk, this kid really is tough. Keep a close eye on him. If he’s really behind this, our plan is finished,” the old man said, looking frustrated.

“Boss, it wouldn’t hurt to apply pressure elsewhere. Their finances definitely have issues.”

“You’re out of your mind. This kid’s a mad dog—a damn southerner. Are you planning to go head-to-head with a cowboy?” To be honest, William White’s reckless ways left many people troubled. Everyone’s just in it for profit; who would be foolish enough to risk a direct confrontation?

William White’s recruitment of security personnel wasn’t news. With the current pace, he was assembling a rapid response force. Texans’ toughness wasn’t just talk; unless you kept him in the dark, there’d be no end to the fight.

The old men were dumbfounded. These tactics went out of style before World War II. Who still resorts to violence these days? Society had become civilized—how could anyone act so recklessly?

In truth, what they saw was simply a sign of insecurity. Like a Chihuahua baring its teeth at strangers out of fear, while a Tibetan mastiff doesn’t bother with threats—it just bites. Humans and animals behave similarly in this regard; it’s instinct, not requiring much explanation.

Especially given that he was a transmigrator; people like that typically lack a sense of security. The consortium’s actions had been exposed in later times—he knew all the dirty tricks involved.

America had been in chaos for years, arguably at its weakest since the war. Society had lost its way, giving rise to yuppies, punks, and hippies—all products of this era.

In these times, you’d find young Americans courting disaster in every way imaginable.

Didn’t they know hallucinogens were harmful?

These people, adrift and aimless, were simply searching for escape. If they ended up ruining themselves, perhaps that was the release they sought.

Counterculture was born from this—they opposed the mainstream values of society, whether religious or legal. Young people were all in rebellion now, with many even supporting the Russians.

Don’t think it was only America; John Bull was equally so. The only relatively normal developed nations were the Germans and the Japanese.

It was curious, really—two Axis countries thrived, while the rest were busy courting disaster.

China wasn’t much better, wasting years. Fortunately, while everyone else was self-destructing in unison, China had a chance to catch up.

Americans always had a serious split personality; just look at their politicians.

To win public approval, you had to be a good father, husband, son—and even a good master to your dog. Only with these credentials could you hope to defeat your rivals.

The public expected their politicians and public figures to meet these basic standards. They believed if you weren’t loyal to your family, you’d surely lie to the public.

Frankly, these notions were naïve. If a politician didn’t know how to lie, he’d have no future in America—he’d have been cast aside long ago.

In reality, none of those who climbed to the top were saints.

Being an American official wasn’t easy. If you weren’t overflowing with energy, you couldn’t handle it. Without the charisma of a master salesman, you’d never get past local council.

And to expect someone so energetic to be loyal to their family?

Well, perhaps it was possible.

In a sense, America was a religious country—Protestantism held great power. Infidelity was unacceptable, but how many successful people truly lived up to that?

Monogamy?

Well, they were monogamous for a time; when their wife grew old, they simply found another.

To survive in this messed-up era, you needed a strong heart. Capitalists had no scruples, and neither did officials. The power they wielded was immense; a single misstep could lead to disaster.

The way to hedge risk was to have multiple escape routes. Before 9/11, Americans had weak control over offshore accounts. As long as your funds didn’t originate in America, they had no way to touch them.

William White’s situation was hardly unique. The so-called backup plans of wealthy families were almost all overseas. If uncontrollable risks arose at home, they could live well abroad with those funds.

Now, William White was sleeping only five hours a day. He needed to plan his comic universe in advance—these projects couldn’t afford delay. Who knew when inspiration would strike? It was best to get things done early.

He was determined to carve out a piece of Japan’s manga industry. In America, the CCA would review his work, but in Japan, it was unnecessary—comics were graded for different target audiences.

He couldn’t understand why American movies could be rated but not comics. The idea that comics were harmful was popular now; some traditional parents would never buy their children comics.

Claims that comics lead to certain tendencies were rampant—it was absurd. How could Batman and Robin be anything but close brothers?

Couldn’t brotherhood be pure and deep, for heaven’s sake?