The sudden turn of events left many people caught off guard. The demonstrating crowd besieging the Royal Palace hurriedly left behind dozens of bodies and quickly departed after attempting to storm the palace.

A reporter from the Federation's "Wave" magazine captured this valuable footage. When the upheaval occurred within the palace, followed by the announcement of the King and Queen's suicide, the originally "calm" crowd began to frenziedly assault the palace.

Their aim was not to respond to the so-called bold feat of Nagariel's Civil Party but purely to take advantage of the chaos for personal gain, only they failed.

In the last line of the article, the reporter used "vile character" to describe the entire Nagariel people.

It wasn't only these ordinary people who were deeply shaken and stimulated; even the people from the United Development Company were somewhat at a loss, as this was not the script they had arranged.

Their arranged script was for some people who had completely secretly sided with them and had certain celebrity status to carry out this task.

For instance, those left from the last purge, who had a close collaboration basis with the Federation people, or were simply the Nagariel lackeys standing out.

It was these lackeys with a mass foundation who were supposed to topple the royal family's rule, thereby allowing the Federation Development Company to completely control this country through puppet rulers on-stage.

However, an unexpected mishap occurred—the emergence of the Civil Party and the old King's suicide made everything irrevocable. Now, it's a very hot potato.

If the old King hadn't died, there would still be room for negotiation. Now that the old King is dead, some things are difficult to negotiate. Even the Federation President's Cabinet made a phone call to the United Development Company's Board, advising them not to overly intervene in other countries' internal affairs.

The Federation will not bear the frightful burden of "overthrowing another country's regime" and "assassinating another country's leader" for the United Development Company. If real problems emerge as a consequence, the Federation Government will find some scapegoats internally within United Development Company to discard, and meanwhile, much of Nagariel's interests will be lost.

So, without finding the optimal solution, we can only proceed by taking one step at a time.

On the second day of the incident, far away in the Federation, Mr. Herbs saw this news in his hospital ward. As a country recently closest to the Federation, Nagariel holds considerable influence within Federation Society, so the reports tend to emphasize these events.

Looking at the footage of the area outside the Royal Palace already under martial law, Mr. Herbs silently sighed, the final puzzle piece had been placed.

He suddenly became lazy and lost any thought or determination to recompose. All he wanted now was to quietly lie down, as everything rapidly flashed through his mind.

Indeed, the Nagariel United Kingdom exits the historical stage, Nagariel has completely become waste paper, there is no doubt about it.

A country has "perished," how could its remaining currency possibly be valuable?

In other words, the hundred billion Nagariel currency retained at customs now might be worth only the price of special waste paper, that's all.

Could he use this waste paper to get those collateral back from the bank, from Lynch? Is it possible?

Obviously not possible. At that time, they would only demand that he uses an equal amount of other currency, whether it's Federation Sol or Fla, which would be a fatal blow to Mr. Herbs.

That was something valued at over forty million. From where could he gather over forty million Federation Sol now?

If he can't gather it, it means he would default, with a daily default penalty of one percent. It wouldn't take long before he would be completely bankrupt!

The hospital room's door suddenly opened, his assistant rushed in with a face full of surprise. "Mr. Herbs, the customs court just called me, their containers can leave the port..."

Mr. Herbs smiled and shook his head. He pointed at his clothing, and his assistant handed it over.

He took out a silver-colored plain stick, lit it, savored the rich change between his lips and teeth, slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, and then sighed heavily, "Too late."

He smiled slightly, seemingly making a final summary.

Upon careful consideration now, the root cause, ultimately, was being too greedy and too arrogant.

Upon first meeting Lynch, he made Lynch suffer a significant loss. This gave him a prejudice, deeply rooted, a view of not quite looking up to Lynch—indeed, he never regarded Lynch as a serious trouble, merely a joke.

Later on during the encounter in Nagariel, the various conditions Lynch proposed seemed merely a plunderous game due to his prejudiced view!

Immature, that was Mr. Herbs' evaluation of Lynch, and he even saw a fatal flaw of reckless gambling in Lynch.

Thus, he agreed to this transaction. Arrogance and bias made him overlook many of the small issues presented, such as motives.

He couldn't see them, yet thought it was he who didn't want to see them, numerous details like these were ignored, leading to the current blow—he was ruined.

He let out a long sigh, losing all the foundation accumulated over these years, including all the investors' money and large amounts of industries entrusted for management.

No need for the Federation or Lynch to trouble him; those investors, his brother who always pretended to be poor but was really on the brink of truly having nothing, would all trouble him.

"I want duck leg," Mr. Herbs suddenly said. "There's a restaurant on Central Avenue at Fourteen, and their chef's specialty is roasted duck leg. Please order a takeaway for me."

Mr. Herbs took out several twenty-dollar bills of Federation Sol from his pocket and handed them over. Watching his assistant trying to express something, he shook his head to stop him, while patting his hand, "Be quick."

The assistant looked confused, but understood Mr. Herbs' stance. He nodded and left quickly.

From here to Central Avenue was a bit of a distance. Sitting on the hospital bed, Mr. Herbs took a puff of Kleve, then turned and sat up.

He walked into the restroom, dressed neatly, and left the ward holding his Civilization Staff.

The hospital building was tall, firstly because the land in Bupen was very valuable; purchasing a large area and only building a three to five-story construction was clearly a loss. Additionally, the Federation's medical groups were not short of money.

Every year, the money they earn from commercial health insurance and medical services is unimaginable to people. People have only heard of the joys and sorrows of real estate bosses, but have never paid attention to how much money a hospital or a medical device company makes each year; people subconsciously ignore this information, even if someone tells you, you would still ignore it.

The most profitable businesses in this world are healthcare and funerals, because everyone has to deal with these two sectors.

Once he was on the rooftop, standing at the edge, the gusty wind made Mr. Herbs' clothes flutter wildly, and the pure color in his hand was burning quickly, the wind fueling the fire.

He glanced down, a few ambulances were still flashing their lights, looking very busy.

Of course busy, with Nagariel stepping down from the historical stage, Federation's six major banks immediately suspended all financial businesses related to Nagariel, and the Financial Supervisory Commission directly removed Nagariel's sign from the foreign exchange bulletin board; Bupen relived the tragedy of two years ago.

Countless people lined up on the rooftop, then jumped with all their might.

Bang!

The ground trembled slightly, blood splattered everywhere, startling a driver who abruptly swerved, causing a series of traffic accidents.

Everything felt like the end of the world, or a demonic invasion; numb people climbed up, jumped down, ambulances, fire trucks, all were desperate, unable to do anything in time.

Oh, this world...

Hiss...

There's nothing worth holding onto!

Mr. Herbs exhaled smoke, took the pure color from his hand, and flicked it hard.

The pure color, with sparks, tumbled down from the sky, he smiled and shook his head, having been in the limelight all his life only to fall into a trap at the end, he blamed no one.

Forward tilt and rotation ultimately transformed into the same loud noise, his jaw was shattered, the body slammed onto the ground in a peculiarly twisted position, two eyeballs were squeezed out under the tremendous pressure, rolling aside.

The ambulance rushing in from outside couldn't brake in time, clattering over this pile of flesh.

A crazy day, a desperate day.

Soon the news of Mr. Herbs' suicide reached Lynch's ears, it was Truman who told him, after all, such a well-known figure died in the Federation, there would always be some channels reporting these things to him, and Mr. Herbs wasn't just a well-known figure, he was also involved in this series of plans.

"I remember he had no relatives in the Federation...", Lynch flipped through the newspaper while handling this call.

"Yes, his family is all abroad, do you have any ideas?"

Lynch smiled, "I don't have any ideas, you could ask his family if anyone is willing to take on his debt... hmm, endlessly growing debt."

The money was loaned out, and a calculated interest had already accrued. If anyone is willing to pay a few hundred thousand in interest and four million in principal, then they could take away the assets mortgaged in the bank from Lynch.

Actually, it's a very profitable business, those things are worth at least 60 or 70 million to 70 or 80 million.

Truman snorted, "I don't think anyone can come up with that much money at once, especially in times like these."

The frenzied increase of Nagariel coupled with the influx of international hot money made it uncontrollably soar in the final stage. Many people joined this feast, some even wagered their family fortunes.

Now that Nagariel went broke, the world's finance would be affected; just to ensure reduced exchange losses in import and export trades, some foreign companies and banks trading with Nagariel had stored more or less Nagariel currency.

Now it's all fucked!

There might be people who could come up with that much money, but those related to Mr. Herbs, those with inheritance rights, there certainly wouldn't be.

If there were, he wouldn't have needed to commit suicide.

"Does this mean I don't have to return a batch of waste paper to you guys?", Lynch closed the newspaper.

According to Federation law, if a person dies without an heir, and personally has no will, then everything would be auctioned off.

The proceeds from the auction will be generously donated to the Federation's welfare institutions, used for maintaining the daily expenses of these welfare institutions.

With just a bit of money, you could buy a hundred billion Nagariel currency, five containers.

Lynch ruthlessly plundered several tens of millions in assets from this deal.

In the world of capital, exploiting workers is always a side path, mutual annexation of capital is the king's way!

The rise of an era inevitably has to tread on the corpse of the previous era!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.