The July sea breeze blew across this headland jutting out into Long Island Sound.
Two years ago, this place was a desolate stretch of cliffs and woods, with only the cries of seagulls.
Now, a magnificent architectural marvel was announcing its completion here.
The castle of Argyle Manor, a massive edifice modeled after the style of the Château de Chambord in France's Loire Valley, had finally reached the moment of its topping-out.
Massive steam cranes roared, hoisting the final block of limestone, engraved with the family crest, onto the spire dozens of meters high.
Felix stood quietly on the lawn, looking up at this palace that would soon belong to him.
Today, he had specially worn a white linen leisure suit and sunglasses, making him look even more spirited.
Beside him was Catherine.
She, too, had rarely donned a loose silk leisure dress, holding the hand of their nearly four-year-old eldest son, Finn.
"Daddy, Mommy, this house is so big."
Finn looked up, not even noticing when his hat fell to the ground.
"Hmm... it's like where a giant from a fairy tale book would live."
"This isn't a giant's house, Finn."
Felix bent down, picked up the hat, and placed it on his son's head.
"This is your future home, and the fortress of the Argyle Family."
The architect, Richard Morris Hunt, walked over with a flushed face, blueprints in hand.
"Mr. Argyle, Madam. The project is going very smoothly; the external structure of the main building was completed today. The interior decoration will also be finished soon."
Hunt pointed to the rows of tall windows.
"All the glass was custom-ordered from Saint-Gobain in France. The roof slates are from Wales. And for the parquet flooring in the great hall, we used five different hardwoods to form the Argyle Family's 'A' crest."
"And there's more..." Hunt said excitedly.
"As per your request, we've installed the latest steam heating system in the basement, and... the internal wiring designed by Mr. Edison. Every room can call the butler's quarters directly."
"Hmm, well done." Felix nodded with satisfaction.
"Remember, I want perfection. Money is no object, but time is. I want to move in before Christmas this year."
"That won't be a problem, sir. Even if I have the workers on three shifts, I guarantee on-time delivery."
Felix put his arm around Catherine and slowly walked into the unfinished castle.
Their footsteps echoed in the vast hall. Sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the uncarpeted stone floor.
"This place..." Catherine looked around.
"It's so big it's almost frightening. Felix, do we really need such a large house? There are over a hundred rooms; we'll never fill them all."
"Don't worry, it will be filled in the future." Felix looked at Catherine. "We will have many children. And grandchildren."
He walked to the center of the hall, where the main fireplace would be located in the future.
"And this isn't just a place to live, Catherine. It's a showcase of power."
"When those Wall Street bankers or Washington politicians come here and see this castle, they will understand what the Argyle Family represents. They will be in awe."
"Awe?" Catherine sighed.
"I only hope this can be a warm home, not another place for business deals."
"Of course, it will be."
Felix held her shoulders and kissed her forehead.
"I will protect this place and keep the storms outside beyond these walls."
Just then, Finn ran over, holding a small stone he had picked up from the ground.
"Daddy, is this stone ours too?"
Felix squatted down, looking into his son's blue eyes, which were just like his.
"Finn, look at me."
Felix pointed to the ground beneath their feet, the perimeter walls in the distance, and then to the sea further away.
"This stone is yours, and this house will be yours. And that beach too."
"And not just these."
Felix's voice became serious; he was giving a lesson to his heir.
"What you will possess in the future is far more than these stones. You will own those smoking factories, those trains running on iron rails, and the gold in bank vaults."
"But the prerequisite for possession is having the strength to keep it."
"Strength?" The four-year-old child seemed to understand but not quite.
"That's right, strength." Felix took his son's small hand.
"Just like this stone, if you don't hold it tight, it will fall. If someone tries to take it, you either hide it or use it to bash their head in."
"Felix!" Catherine interrupted him with a hint of dissatisfaction.
"Finn is still young; don't teach him such things."
"But he was born into a pack of wolves, Catherine." Felix stood up. "He must learn how to be the alpha."
"Boss."
Frost appeared at the doorway, breaking the family moment. However, his expression was somewhat grave.
"Hmm? What is it?"
Felix turned around, instantly switching back to the mode of a business empire's ruler.
"An informant from Pittsburgh sent an urgent telegram," Frost said in a low voice.
"That kid named Andrew Carnegie has been acting suspiciously lately. He hasn't been out looking for business; instead, he's been frequently meeting with several Englishmen."
"And..." Frost handed over a slip of paper.
"This is a letter we intercepted. It's unsigned, but the postmark is from London."
Felix took the slip of paper; there was only one sentence on it:
"The furnace is preheated, awaiting your steel. — J.M."
"J.M..." Felix narrowed his eyes.
Junius Morgan, that old crocodile lurking in London.
"Heh~ It seems our Mr. Carnegie isn't satisfied with just being a bridge builder anymore."
Felix let out a cold laugh and crumpled the paper into a ball.
"I think I know what he's up to. He still wants to play the steel game, and he's doing it with Morgan's money."
"Should we take action?" Frost asked solemnly. "We could cut off his funding or have Reeves sever his transport lines."
Ever since the death of Young Morgan, Old Morgan, though holed up in Britain, had successfully inherited the Peabody company and renamed it the Morgan Company, gradually growing in power in Britain.
Those in the know were well aware that Old Morgan would never give up on his revenge.
"No rush."
Felix looked back at Finn, who was playing with his mother, and then at the sturdy castle that had just been topped out.
"Now that the castle is built, we need a few cannons to test its strength."
"Let Carnegie stay in touch with Old Morgan for now; it would be best if Old Morgan comes to the United States in person. Wait until they've invested all their money and the chimneys are smoking before telling them who the true master of United States steel is."
"As for now, let's not spoil the mood."
Felix straightened his collar and walked toward his family.
"Today is a fine day; let's go for a picnic by the sea."
Under the sunlight, the main building of Argyle Manor cast a massive shadow. That shadow loomed over the lawn and seemed to shroud the entire future of America.
London, Princes Gate.
This was the wealthy district of The City of London and the residence of Junius Spencer Morgan.
Outside the window, the famous London fog drifted, shrouding the streets in grayish-yellow shadows.
Old Morgan sat in his study, holding a glass of port and looking at a portrait hanging on the wall above the fireplace.
The young man in the painting had that signature bulbous nose and sharp eyes; it was his son, Pierpont.
The man who had absolutely died at the hands of Felix Argyle.
Old Morgan did not weep. The Morgan Family did not believe in tears, only in interest and revenge.
"Boss, here is the report from New York."
A butler-like Englishman entered and handed over the documents.
"That ticker machine of Argyle' has already taken over the London Stock Exchange. Our traders say that if they don't rent his machine now, they can't make trades at all."
"Also, Standard Oil has completed its mergers in Ohio. The Argyle Family now controls 70% of America's refining capacity."
"He is very strong."
Old Morgan set down his wine glass, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather.
"Stronger than I imagined. He is building a closed loop. Oil, railroads, steel, banking, even intelligence. He's locked everything inside that safe of his."
"What should we do? Continue shorting the stocks he holds?"
"No need." Old Morgan shook his head.
"On the financial battlefield, he has that mad dog named Hayes, and that damned ticker machine's god-like perspective. We have no advantage in New York."
Old Morgan stood up and walked to a map. His finger traced across the Atlantic Ocean and stopped at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
"Fortresses are always breached from within. Though Argyle is powerful, he is too greedy. He eats the meat and doesn't even leave the soup for others."
"Those who are suppressed by him, those who have ambition but are treated as mere underlings, are our allies."
Old Morgan took a pre-written letter out of a drawer.
There was no signature on the envelope, only an address: Pittsburgh, Keystone Bridge Company, for the attention of Mr. Andrew Carnegie.
"Have someone loyal to the family deliver this to America," Old Morgan instructed.
"Do not use normal postal channels. Find someone reliable; even if they have to take a ship, they must hand it to him personally."
"Carnegie?" The butler was somewhat puzzled.
"That short Scotsman who builds bridges? Argyle is a shareholder in his company; they are partners. Even his steel is provided by Lex Steel Company."
"It is precisely because of that that I am seeking him out."
Old Morgan gave a cold smile; he hadn't let things go over these past few years and had carefully scrutinized Argyle' relationships.
"I've seen Carnegie's files. Like Argyle, he's the kind of wolf that refuses to be subordinate. Now that Argyle has put a collar on him, do you think this wolf is happy? Not to mention, his mentor was driven out of the company."
"The furnace is already preheated."
Old Morgan looked into the eyes of his son's portrait.
"Since Felix Argyle likes monopolies, I'm going to light a fire under his steel throne."
...Half a month later, Pittsburgh.
This city was known as 'Hell with the lid off.' Hundreds of chimneys spewed black smoke day and night, and the air was filled with the smell of sulfur and coal ash.
Andrew Carnegie was standing at a construction site on the banks of the Allegheny River.
He was not tall, only about five feet three, wearing a mud-stained tweed overcoat, and was directing workers in hoisting a massive iron beam.
This was a cross-river bridge being built by his Keystone Bridge Company.
"Slow down! Keep it steady!"
Carnegie shouted loudly, his thick Scottish accent exceptionally clear amidst the noise.
"Boss!"
A foreman ran over, his face full of anxiety.
"Lex Steel Company just sent a telegram. The batch of I-beams originally scheduled to arrive this week will be delayed by half a month."
"What?" Carnegie's expression changed instantly.
"Delayed by another half month? Then what about our schedule? We'll have to pay liquidated damages. What exactly did they say?"
"They said..." The foreman hesitated.
"They say the New Jersey factory's capacity is tight, and priority must be given to Argyle's own railway and real estate projects... or producing farm tools for the southern plantations. Our order priority has been downgraded."
"Fuck~ Bastard!"
Carnegie kicked the nearby sleeper hard.
This wasn't the first time; the feeling of being under someone else's thumb was becoming increasingly intense.
Although he and Felix Argyle were partners in name, and Felix even owned shares in the bridge company.
But in practice, his lifeblood... steel, was entirely in Argyle's hands.
"Damn it! It's not fair," Carnegie gritted his teeth.
"I've made them so much money, and all the company's bridges use their steel."
Just then, a stranger in a black trench coat walked over. He looked like a bank clerk, but seemed out of place on such a messy construction site.
"Mr. Carnegie?" the stranger asked politely.
"I am. If you're selling insurance, get lost," Carnegie replied crossly.
"No. Sorry, I'm here to deliver something."
The stranger pulled a letter from his coat. The envelope was of high quality and carried a faint scent of cigars.
"An old friend from London asked me to give this to you."
Carnegie frowned as he took the letter. He opened the envelope to find only a thin sheet of paper inside.
By the light of the construction site's torches, he saw the contents clearly.
There were no pleasantries, only a soul-piercing sentence:
"If you don't want to build bridges in someone else's shadow forever, perhaps we should talk about how to manufacture your own steel. — J.M."
Carnegie's hand trembled slightly.
He knew exactly who J.M. was.
So he looked up at the stranger.
"Where is he?"
"In London. But his money can be cashed in New York at any time."
Carnegie looked at the bridge in the distance that hadn't been closed yet, and thought of the telegram from earlier delaying the supply.
His ambition was ignited at that moment.
Inside a private box at the Duquesne Club in Pittsburgh. This was a gathering place for Pittsburgh's industrialists, where the air was thick with the scent of money and power.
Andrew Carnegie sat on a leather sofa in the corner, a glass of Scotch in his hand, though he hadn't taken a single sip.
Across from him sat the sales manager of Lex Steel Company, a fellow named Hammond.
"Hammond, I need that batch of steel."
Carnegie suppressed his anger, trying to keep his voice calm.
"My St. Louis Bridge project cannot stop. It's a major project crossing the Mississippi River; if I default, my company will go bankrupt."
Hammond cut the steak on his plate without even looking up.
"Andrew, you know the market is booming right now," Hammond said slowly.
"The Boss's two railway companies are in a sprint phase, and every rail must be prioritized for shipment to Utah. Then there are the southern plantations; they need a lot of plows and barbed wire. Not to mention the real estate company the Boss personally founded, which is also a major steel consumer. It's difficult for me too."
"But Mr. Argyle has shares in my company too!" Carnegie slapped the table.
"I helped you digest quite a few orders when you were first starting out. Now I just need five hundred tons of I-beams, and you can't provide them?"
Hammond finally put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth.
"Andrew, business is business. The Boss said internal demand takes priority. Although the Boss has shares in your company, you haven't joined us internally, so you're an external partner, in the second tier of supply."
"Of course," Hammond gave a mocking smile.
"If you're really in a hurry, you can pay extra. The market price has gone up by 15%. If you're willing to pay 20% more, maybe I can squeeze some out for you from other channels."
Carnegie stared at Hammond's greasy face, feeling as if he had swallowed a fly.
This was outright extortion, or some kind of warning.
He understood that Felix Argyle was telling him something through this method.
"In this industry, no matter how talented you are, you're just a link in his chain. If he wants you to turn, you turn; if he wants you to stop, you stop."
"Fine, I think I understand."
Carnegie took a deep breath and stood up.
"I'll consider it."
He didn't waste any more words and turned to walk out of the box.
Walking out of the club, the Pittsburgh night breeze, mixed with coal ash, blew against his face.
Carnegie felt an unprecedented sense of suffocation.
This feeling of suffocation reminded him of a few years ago.
Back then, his mentor, Edgar Thomson (the former chairman of the Pennsylvania Railroad), was kicked out by Felix Argyle through capital maneuvers.
At that time, he swore to avenge his mentor, but later, intimidated by Felix's overwhelming power, he chose to cooperate.
But now, that cooperation had become a shackle.
"To the Monongahela House Hotel," Carnegie said to the coachman.
Carnegie said to the coachman.
That was where the messenger from London was staying... Monongahela House Hotel, Room 302.
The stranger who called himself Mr. Sterling was sitting by the window reading a book.
There was a knock at the door, and Carnegie walked in.
His eyes were no longer lost, but filled with determination.
"I read the letter," Carnegie said, getting straight to the point.
"What does Mr. Morgan want? And what is he willing to give?"
Sterling closed the book and pointed to the chair opposite him.
"Mr. Morgan knows your predicament; you are the best bridge builder in America. But without iron and steel, you're like a baker without flour."
"Give me the terms directly." Carnegie sat down, leaning forward.
"The Morgan company is willing to provide you with a one-million-dollar low-interest loan. The annual interest is only 3%, and it's interest-free for the first three years."
Sterling threw out an astronomical figure.
In this era, a million dollars was enough to build a medium-sized city.
Sterling stared into Carnegie's eyes.
"The condition is that this money can only be used to establish the most advanced steel mill in America."
"Furthermore, Mr. Morgan hopes you will introduce a new technology: the Siemens-Martin open-hearth process."
"Open-hearth?" Carnegie was an expert; he paused.
"That's something new. Argyle's Lex Steel uses Bessemer converters. While open-hearth is slower, it allows for quality control, producing purer steel that's more suitable for bridges and rails."
"Yes, exactly," Sterling nodded.
"Argyle has a monopoly on most of the current market thanks to the Bessemer patent, but open-hearth is the future. Mr. Morgan has already contacted Sir Siemens for you in Britain; you can obtain the patent license directly."
"Why is he doing this?" Carnegie asked. "Just to make money?"
"For balance."
Sterling gave a meaningful smile.
"Mr. Argyle's voice in this country is too loud. London doesn't like this autocracy. We need a new steel king to break this monopoly."
"And you, Mr. Carnegie. You have the ambition, and the ability."
Of course, this was just a superficial excuse; everyone knew the real reason, but it couldn't be used to convince investors.
Carnegie did not respond.
Because he knew very well that this money was a lure, and also a double-edged sword.
Once he accepted it, it would mean an official declaration of war against Argyle.
He thought of Felix's face, which always wore a smile but remained cold and ruthless.
Then he thought of Hammond's arrogance just now.
Finally, he thought of the lonely figure of his mentor Edgar when he left his post.
No one wants to be a lackey; he, Andrew Carnegie, wanted to be a king too.
"There is one problem," Carnegie said.
"If I build a plant, Argyle will immediately launch a price war. He has railroads, mines, and banks. If he's willing to take losses for even ten years just to kill me, how will I survive?"
"That is where Mr. Morgan comes in." Sterling took out a document.
"This is an underwriting agreement for the London market. As long as your steel is of good quality, the Morgan Company will be responsible for selling your bonds in Europe, ensuring your cash flow never breaks. Furthermore, we are not without allies in America. Those companies fed up with Lex Steel's high prices will be more than happy to buy your goods."
"This is a war, Mr. Carnegie. Are you ready to step onto the battlefield?"
Carnegie looked at the document. His palms were sweating.
This was a massive gamble. If he won, he would be the Steel King of America. If he lost, he would have nothing.
"I'll do it."
Carnegie grabbed the pen on the table.
"But I have one condition. The name of the factory must be the 'Carnegie Steel Company'."
"No problem." Sterling smiled.
"Mr. Morgan will only be an investor, not the Boss. The stage remains yours, after all."
Carnegie signed his name.
At that moment, a bolt of lightning seemed to flash across the night sky of Pittsburgh.
This lightning would split apart Argyle' seemingly impregnable steel empire.
Braddock, on the outskirts of Pittsburgh.
This was a wasteland adjacent to the Monongahela River. The water was murky, but the flow was steady, making it very suitable for shipping.
Andrew Carnegie stood on this wasteland with his brother Tom and several trusted engineers.
The cold wind ruffled Carnegie's hair, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter and brighter.
"Right here," Carnegie said, pointing to the ground beneath his feet.
"I am going to build a factory here that is twice as large as the Lex Steel plant."
"Andrew, have you truly gone mad?"
Tom Carnegie looked at his brother, his face full of worry.
"We haven't shown our hand to Mr. Argyle yet. If he finds out..."
"He will find out sooner or later," Carnegie said coldly.
"But before that, we need to be faster."
"Tom, you're responsible for acquiring the surrounding land. Don't use our names; use those shell companies. Be quick, and secure the land before that man Flynn can react."
"But what about raw materials?" an engineer asked. "Lex controls most of the high-quality iron ore."
"We won't buy his ore."
Carnegie pulled a map from his pocket; it was a map of the Great Lakes Region.
"We'll go to Lake Superior to buy ore. New rich iron deposits have been discovered there. Although it's far, if we transport it by water, the cost will be lower than by rail."
"And coke." Carnegie pointed to another corner of the map.
"Connellsville, Pennsylvania, has the best coke. We'll go there to buy land and burn our own coke. We can't let someone else have a stranglehold on our fuel."
This was Carnegie's shrewdness.
It was also the most important lesson he had learned from Felix: control of the entire industry chain.
"What about the technology?" Tom asked. "Open-hearth steelmaking is good, but we have no experience."
"That is where I'm going next."
Carnegie straightened his collar, his gaze firm.
"Next week, I will publicly announce that I am going to Europe to 'inspect bridge technology' or perhaps for a vacation. In reality, I am going to London."
"I'm going to see Siemens. I must find a way to bring back the most advanced furnaces, and a group of British engineers as well."
"But Andrew..." Tom was still somewhat afraid.
"What if Argyle cuts off the steel supply to our bridge company right now?"
Carnegie gave a cunning smile.
"He won't. Because I will continue to write to him, praising his greatness and thanking him for his support. I'll also tell him that I'm just a bridge builder who can never survive without his steel."
"Perhaps in his eyes, I'm just a short Scotsman with a bit of a temper, not a threat. This is what you call... a tactical compromise."
...Three days later, New York.
An ocean liner bound for Liverpool was preparing to set sail.
Carnegie stood on the deck, watching the receding Manhattan skyline. There stood the Empire State Building, overlooking the entire city like a giant beast.
He remembered two years ago when he had also stood on the pier, watching Felix Argyle' fleet loading and unloading cargo.
At that time, his heart was full of awe.
But now, there was only a thirst for battle in his heart.
"Sir, would you like a glass of champagne?" a waiter approached with a tray.
"No," Carnegie shook his head. "Just a glass of water. I need to keep a clear head."
He touched the reply to Old Morgan in his pocket.
The letter read: 'The apprentice is ready to complete his training. But I don't want to inherit the master's mantle; I want to smash his rice bowl.'
...Meanwhile, on the top floor of the Argyle Building.
Felix was listening to Flynn's report.
"Boss, Carnegie bought a lot of land this week. In Braddock. It was all done under the names of shell companies."
"Oh?" Felix set down his coffee.
"What is that kid trying to do? Build a new bridge factory?"
"Unclear," Flynn shook his head.
"But he also booked a ticket to London. The reason given is to inspect European iron bridge technology."
"Inspect..." Felix smiled, his gaze playful.
"It seems our Andrew can't stand being idle."
"Should we stop him?" Flynn asked.
"No need."
Felix stood up, walked to the map, and drew a circle around Pittsburgh.
"If he just wants to build bridges, then he's welcome to it. If he wants to build something else..."
Felix paused, recalling the letter from London that Frost had intercepted earlier.
"Then let him build it. Let him spend all his money. Let him build the factory."
"In this world, building a factory is easy; surviving is the hard part."
"Tell Reeves (President of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad) to pay a little attention to the water transport routes from the Great Lakes to Pittsburgh. If one day there are many more ships carrying ore on that river, remember to tell me."
"Yes, Boss."
Flynn withdrew.
Felix looked out the window. The autumn of 1869 was fast approaching.
It seemed this would be a season full of hope, and also one full of variables.
The Pacific Railroad was about to be joined, and Wall Street gold was fluctuating wildly.
Now, even within the smog of Pittsburgh, a new challenger was sharpening his blade.
"Come then, Andrew," Felix whispered to himself.
"Let me see if you, this rebellious apprentice, are more capable, or if I, the teacher who sets the rules, am more ruthless."
In the coming torrent of steel, there would be no masters or apprentices—only survivors.
Virginia, at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Far from the hustle and bustle and mud of Washington, the air held a crisp scent of pine.
The ancient manor belonging to the Clark Family was hidden within an oak forest that had not yet fully turned green.
A black carriage without any crest slowly entered the gravel driveway, the sound of wheels rolling over the ground startling a few wintering crows.
Felix pushed open the carriage door and walked toward the main house across a thick layer of fallen leaves. Today he wore a deep gray wool coat with the collar turned up, covering half his face.
"Mr. Argyle, the young lady is in the sunroom on the second floor. Please~"
The old butler seemed to have been waiting for a long time and didn't ask many questions, simply taking Felix's coat and respectfully leading the way.
It was very warm in the sunroom.
Anna lay on a lounge chair covered with a thick cashmere blanket, holding a book in her hand, though she wasn't seriously reading it.
Her face was somewhat pale, a reaction typical of pregnancy.
"Felix, you're here."
Anna closed the book and didn't get up. Instead, she set the book aside and stretched.
"I thought you'd be busy counting money in New York, or busy arranging the cabinet for the new president in Washington."
"Rest assured, you are the most important one right now. After all, money can never be fully counted, and the cabinet has already been arranged."
Felix pulled up a chair and sat beside her.
His gaze fell on Anna, his expression becoming somewhat complex.
"How are you feeling? The doctor said you need bed rest."
"I'm fine. It's just that I feel like vomiting when I wake up in the morning, and..."
Anna touched her stomach, a hint of a smile appearing at the corners of her mouth.
"This little guy doesn't seem to like quiet. He's reminding me that I'm still alive and haven't become a useless person who only knows how to drink tea."
Felix took a document from his pocket and placed it on the small round table.
"This is for him, whether boy or girl. A trust fund in a Swiss Bank and a piece of land on Long Island. It's enough for him to live several lifetimes without ever having to work."
"But Felix, I don't want him to live that kind of life."
Anna didn't even look at the document, but instead looked at Felix with a serious expression.
"He's not a pet dog. I want my nephew to enter politics and Congress in the future, even..."
"Hey~ that's something for twenty years from now."
Felix smiled, his cold features softening slightly as he interrupted Anna's thoughts.
"For now, your task is to rest. Over in Washington, I've already had word spread that you've contracted severe bronchitis and need the warm air of the South."
"No one will suspect anything." Anna nodded. "As long as my father doesn't mind."
"There won't be any problem with Thomas; perhaps his mouth is busy smiling right now," Felix said.
"After all, the position of vice president is very comfortable; he doesn't have time for such trifles. Besides, if it's a boy, maybe the Clark Family will have to rely on him in the future."
Anna didn't speak, but reached out and took Felix's hand. Her palm was a bit cold.
"Felix, don't let me stay here for too long. If it's for a long time, I'll get rusty."
"Don't worry. Once the child is born, the Charity Foundation is waiting for you to take the helm."
When Felix left the manor, a fine snow began to fall.
When Felix returned to the carriage, Flynn was sitting opposite him, holding a newly received encrypted telegram.
"Boss, is Miss Anna doing well?" Flynn asked.
"She's stronger than I imagined." Felix took the telegram. "Tell me about the situation in London."
"Message sent back by our 'pigeons' (spies)." Flynn pointed to several lines of code on the telegram.
"Andrew Carnegie stayed in London for three whole weeks. He went to Princes Gate almost every day, which is Old Morgan's residence."
"And also..." Flynn added.
"He went to visit Sir Siemens. He stayed at that factory for three days and even personally put on work clothes to watch the tapping process of the open-hearth furnace."
"It seems he's determined to enter the steel industry."
Felix looked at the snowy scenery outside the window, his eyes showing no anger, but rather a hint of amusement.
He had thought that Carnegie, who had been suppressed for two years, had lost his ambition. It seemed he had returned to the track of history after all.
"How much money did Old Morgan give him?"
"The exact figure is unknown. But based on the list of equipment he's purchasing in London, it's at least a million dollars." Flynn was somewhat worried.
"Boss, if that million is poured into Pittsburgh, it'll be a big problem. Almost all the land there has been bought up by his shell companies."
"Should we use some means?"
Flynn made a cutting motion, his eyes filled with ruthlessness.
"Make it so his equipment can't be shipped back? Or have some problems with his factory foundations?"
"No need for such trouble."
Felix shook his head, an imperceptible smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.
"Flynn, you don't understand. Actually, sitting in this position for a long time is also very cold."
"I beat Vanderbilt into submission, suppressed Tweed, and turned DuPont into my vassal. Now, looking at the whole of America, besides those politicians who only know how to hold out their hands, who else can truly pique my interest?"
Felix folded the telegram and put it in his pocket.
"Carnegie is a genius. He has the same sense of smell and ruthlessness as I do. If he just stayed as my subordinate, a contractor building bridges, it would be a pity."
"Let him build. Let him spend all of Morgan's money. Let that so-called 'most advanced in America' factory be built."
"When he thinks he's ready, when he thinks he can challenge me..."
A cold light flashed in Felix's eyes.
"Defeating him then will be interesting. What I want is not a half-finished construction site, but a steel mill that can lay golden eggs. When the time comes, I'll take both the man and the factory."
"Keep watching. As long as he's still buying equipment and building the factory, don't disturb him. You can even have the customs side give him a green light so the equipment doesn't get stuck at the docks."
"Boss, you're raising a tiger," Flynn reminded.
"No, no, no, I'm raising a pig."
Felix leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.
"Wait until the New Year when the pig is fat, then it will be time to slaughter."
The carriage left two deep ruts in the snow as it drove north toward New York.
On the other side of the ocean in London, a steel storm targeting the Argyle Business Empire was brewing.
But for Felix, that was merely the opening whistle of the next game.
Promontory Summit, Utah.
The originally desolate Great Basin Desert had become the focus of the entire United States today.
Two locomotives stood nose-to-nose on the iron tracks.
To the east was the Union Pacific Railroad Company's No. 119 locomotive, spewing black smoke and appearing rugged and powerful; to the west was the Central Pacific Railroad Company's Jupiter, its body painted in bright blue and red, exuding a touch of Californian flamboyance.
Between the two locomotives, only the last few feet of track remained to be laid.
Thousands of workers surrounded the area.
There were Irishmen, Germans, and a large number of Chinese workers.
They wore worn-out work clothes, their faces covered in dust, but excitement flickered in their eyes.
It was this group of people who, with blood and sweat, had pulled these two steel dragons of the United States from opposite ends of the continent to this very spot.
Felix stood among the crowd of spectators.
He didn't squeeze to the very front to grab the spotlight like the other shareholders; instead, he stood beside a luxurious private carriage belonging to the Union Pacific Railroad Company.
He wore a black formal suit and a top hat, holding a gold-inlaid cane in his hand.
Although he was only in his twenties, the pot-bellied railroad directors around him maintained a respectful distance.
Because they knew that this young man held a 13% stake in the Union Pacific Railroad Company, making him the largest individual shareholder.
Most importantly, he held their lifeblood in his hands: the secrets of Credit Mobilier.
"Mr. Argyle! This is truly a great day!"
Thomas Durant, Vice President of the Union Pacific Railroad Company, walked over with a flushed face. He held a half-empty bottle in his hand, clearly having drunk quite a bit already.
"Look! We have connected this country!"
Durant waved his arms, pointing at the two trains.
"From New York to San Francisco in just seven days! It's simply a miracle!"
"Yes, a miracle,"
Felix said flatly, looking at Durant's expensive velvet vest.
"It is also a miracle of money, Mr. Durant. I heard that the construction cost for every mile of track you reported to the government was three times the actual cost?"
Durant's smile stiffened for a moment, but he quickly masked it, leaning in close to Felix and lowering his voice, his breath reeking of alcohol.
"That was necessary, Felix. Do you know how hard it is to build a road in this godforsaken place? indians, avalanches, lack of water... we needed some compensation."
"And..."
Durant gave a sleazy smile of a co-conspirator.
"It was also for everyone's benefit. Hasn't your Lex Steel Company also made a fortune? The price of those steel rails..."
"Lex Steel's prices are market rates."
Felix interrupted him with an displeased expression, his voice as cold as ice.
"Although it includes shipping and rush fees, every transaction is accounted for. We are a legal supplier."
"Of course, of course."
Durant didn't catch the deeper meaning in Felix's words, assuming Felix was just keeping up appearances.
"Anyway, the road is finished now. The government bonds are in hand. Those lands..."
Durant pointed at the surrounding desolate desert with significant intent.
"They might look worthless now, but in the future..."
"In the future, there will be trouble, Thomas."
Felix looked at the photographers nearby preparing for the ceremony.
"You were too greedy, and too high-profile."
"What is there to fear?" Durant said dismissively.
"Grant is the President; he's a Republican. We've donated so much money to the Republican Party. Speaker Colfax even holds our gifted shares."
Felix didn't speak further. It was one thing before, when the United States government wasn't so deeply connected to him, so he chose to suppress it.
As for now... he looked at Durant like a pig feasting at the trough, oblivious to the raised butcher's knife.
If it were before the election, Felix might have helped these people cover things up to avoid affecting the Republican Party's prospects.
But now, the situation was settled.
Grant was firmly seated in the White House.
These greedy fellows had turned from 'allies' into 'liabilities'.
"The ceremony is about to begin."
Felix took a step back, distancing himself from Durant.
12:47 PM.
Leland Stanford, the owner of the Central Pacific Railroad Company, raised a silver hammer.
On the sleeper at his feet, a hole had been pre-drilled. It was for the placement of that famous 'Golden Spike'.
The entire field fell silent. The telegraph operator nearby had his finger on the transmitter, ready to send the signal across the country.
"Clang!"
Stanford missed the first strike, hitting the sleeper instead. A wave of good-natured laughter broke out among the crowd.
Durant stepped forward and took the hammer.
He also missed because of his drunkenness.
Finally, a seasoned railroad worker stepped forward and drove the Golden Spike in steadily.
"Beep—"
The telegraph operator pressed the key.
Only one word: DONE.
At that moment, church bells rang in unison in Washington, New York, Chicago, and San Francisco, and ceremonial cannons roared.
The crowd cheered and jumped for joy, hats thrown into the air.
Felix also clapped politely.
But he didn't join the revelry. Instead, he turned and walked into that luxurious carriage where Hayes and Flynn were waiting for him.
"It's over."
Felix took the ice water handed to him by Hayes.
"The road is connected. It's time to clear out those parasites who live off it."
"Boss, Durant and the others are still planning to apply for new government subsidies, saying they need to repair the lines," Hayes reported honestly.
"By the looks of it, they want to keep this game going forever."
"They can't keep it going, and I don't intend to let them continue."
Felix looked out the window at the celebrating crowd.
"Credit Mobilier's books are a mess. Although we burned some evidence in Brooklyn, you can't wrap fire in paper. The Democrats in Congress who didn't get a cut, as well as the honest Republicans, are all eyeing this fat prize."
"Grant needs an explanation," Felix said.
"The new administration needs to establish an image of integrity; nothing pleases voters more than catching a few corrupt officials."
"Then what do we do?" Hayes asked. "We hold so many shares of Union Pacific."
"Sell them in advance, of course," Felix said nonchalantly.
"Start reducing our holdings slowly from tomorrow. Don't dump them all at once; that would cause a panic. Before the scandal breaks, lower our stake to under 5%. Keep only those high-quality assets with actual right-of-way."
"Oh, and one more thing..."
Felix looked at Hayes.
"Have the Lex Steel Company's finance department organize all the transaction records with Union Pacific from the past few years. Every invoice, every contract, must be ready."
"We need to prove, or at least appear to prove, that Lex Steel was merely an innocent supplier of materials. As for how much Durant reported to the government using our invoices, that's his business and has nothing to do with us."
"I understand." Hayes nodded. "It's about cutting ties with them."
Felix looked out the window at the train spewing white steam.
"The Golden Spike has been driven in, and the coffin lid is closing."
"Heh~ Durant thinks this is his peak, but it's actually a funeral."
Upon receiving Felix Argyle's orders, Tom Hayes acted quickly.
The joy of the Union Pacific Railroad's completion had not yet faded, but the air in Wall Street began to be filled with a burnt smell.
It wasn't the smell of gunpowder, but the scent of an impending scandal fermenting.
In the conference room of the Argyle Empire State Building, the atmosphere was somewhat solemn.
At one end of the long table sat Felix Argyle, flanked by Tom Hayes, Arthur Hamilton (head of legal and real estate), and William Coleman (president of Lex Steel).
"chairman, it seems the rumors can no longer be suppressed."
Hamilton held several tabloids in his hand.
"The New York Sun published an editorial yesterday titled 'Who Stole Our Railroad Subsidies?'. Although it didn't name names, it clearly alluded to Credit Mobilier."
"This is just the beginning."
Felix leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop.
"There's movement in Congress as well. Several Congressmen who didn't get a cut are coordinating to launch a hearing."
"That idiot Durant," Hayes cursed.
"He was simply too arrogant, openly boasting at a cocktail party about giving stock to Congressmen. He said it was 'turning Congress into his board of directors'."
"He is indeed a fool, an idiot," Felix said disdainfully.
"He actually forgot that Congress is fluid. Those new Congressmen who didn't get any stock are looking for an opportunity to make a name for themselves."
Felix turned to Coleman.
"William, are Lex Steel's accounts ready?"
"They've been ready for a long time, Boss."
Coleman wiped the non-existent sweat from his forehead, still feeling a bit nervous.
"Over the past three years, we supplied 300,000 tons of steel rails and connectors to the Union Pacific Railroad. The contract price was $85 per ton. This was at the market peak at the time, but it was reasonable. After all, they requested expedited delivery to the Western wilderness."
As for who set that high price, that wasn't something for him to worry about.
"But..." Coleman hesitated for a moment.
"But Credit Mobilier, controlled by Thomas Durant, turned around and reported a price of $160 per ton to the Railway Company, then used that price to apply for bond subsidies from the government."
"The price difference in the middle was split among the shareholders of Credit Mobilier—namely Durant and those Congressmen."
"That's right." Felix nodded.
From the very beginning when Durant approached him, Felix knew what they were doing.
"Selling at $85 might be high, but it's a legal business. After all, there are costs, profits, and invoices. As for how he falsified accounts and committed fraud, that has nothing to do with us."
"But Boss..." Hamilton was somewhat worried.
"The public knows we are closely related to Union Pacific, and you are still a shareholder of Union Pacific. If we don't do something, the fire will still reach us."
"Of course, which is why we must proactively detonate it."
Felix stood up and walked to the window.
"Hayes, dump all the remaining Union Pacific stock we hold. While market sentiment is high and the stock price is still at its peak, we can sell it for a good price."
Felix turned around, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"Then Coleman, in the name of Lex Steel Company, send a lawyer's letter to the Union Pacific Railroad Company."
"A lawyer's letter?" Coleman was stunned.
"Yes. A demand for payment," Felix said.
"Say they are two months late on last quarter's payment; use stern language. If they don't pay within three days, we will sue them for breach of contract and apply to seize their assets."
"This..." Coleman couldn't quite follow Felix's logic.
"Isn't this like hitting ourselves?"
"It's called playing for sympathy."
Hamilton realized the plan, his eyes lighting up.
"If we sue them, it shows we are also 'victims'—poor suppliers owed money by that corrupt clique."
"Exactly."
Felix gave Hamilton an appreciative look.
"Once we sue, the secret is out. Reporters will flock to it. They'll investigate why a company that received tens of millions in government subsidies can't even pay a few hundred thousand for steel."
"Then they will discover that the money was drained by Credit Mobilier."
"When that time comes..." Felix showed a cruel smile.
"Not only will we clear our names, but we can also stand on the moral high ground and denounce such corruption for harming the real economy."
"Boss, what about Durant...?" Hayes asked.
"He is the detonator."
Felix made an explosion gesture.
"He must be blown up. Only by blowing him up can all those abscesses be cleared. President Grant also needs this detonator to prove the new government's determination to fight corruption."
"Alright, that's it. Go get it done." Felix waved his hand.
"Have our legal team ready. This Friday, file the lawsuit with the court."
...Three days later, Friday.
Lex Steel Company's lawsuit was like a giant boulder crashing into a calm lake.
The New York Tribune followed up with a report immediately:
"Steel Giant Sues Railroad Tycoon! Union Pacific's Capital Chain Broken?"
The article quoted Lex Steel Company's statement in detail, claiming that the Union Pacific Railroad Company was in management chaos and had long overdue payments, causing steel mill workers to face difficulties in getting paid.
Public opinion was in an uproar.
People couldn't help but ask: Where did the money for that 'Golden Railroad' that cost taxpayers so much go?
In the Willard Hotel in Washington, Thomas Durant looked at the newspaper, the whiskey glass in his hand shattering to pieces.
"Argyle, that despicable Irish villain!" Durant roared.
"This is a stab in the back! He clearly knows I have money, I just temporarily misappropriated it!"
"Boss, what do we do now?" the assistant asked in a panic.
"Congress has already set up an investigation committee. Several Congressmen who took our stock before are now returning it, even saying we forced it on them."
"Send a telegram to Argyle, I want to see him!" Durant yelled, "Tell him, if I don't survive, he won't have it easy either! I'll expose him too!"
"Expose what?" the assistant asked weakly.
"Lex Steel's accounts are balanced; they really just sold steel. Moreover, I heard Mr. Argyle has already sold all his stock. He is just a creditor now."
Durant went numb instantly, then slumped onto the sofa.
He finally understood why Argyle hadn't joined them back then.
He thought he was dancing with a wolf, but he was actually just the meat in the wolf's mouth.
When the wolf is hungry, or to show goodwill to the hunter, the fate of the meat is already sealed.
Argyle had not only shed the burden but also pushed him out to be a shield.
"It's over, completely over," Durant muttered to himself.
Meanwhile, in his New York office, Felix looked at the sky outside the window.
A storm was coming.
This rain would wash away many things and also nourish new monsters.
The eruption of the Credit Mobilier Scandal would completely change the ecology of American railroads and politics.
And the Argyle Family would become even larger and purer upon these ruins.
"Next, it's gold," Felix said softly.
Hayes had already prepared the ammunition; Jay Gould, that greedy fish, was about to take the bait.
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Sick with flu, couldn't even get outta bed yesterday.
Anna Anna, rejected by Felix and went ahead to get an unkown baby daddy? xdd