Chapter 849: The Fool Has Money, Come Quick! (Part 2)

Savage wasn't stupid; he knew that in the Living Hell, ordinary people's cost of living couldn't possibly be this high—but he wasn't here to be ordinary. He had a mission to accomplish.

Savage began comparing in his mind: previously, he'd given the Mirror Master and the Piper some operational funds, but back then, the funds always started at five digits; how could the Great King possibly show his face with less than tens of thousands of dollars?

Not to mention ordinary underlings like Leon and Lady Goth, each time they came asking for funds or rewards, he treated them like buying a horse's bones at a thousand gold—he spent money and even lost many of his collectibles.

After calculating, Savage realized that if he converted all those products into cash, the amount he'd spent on ordinary people was at least several hundred thousand dollars.

But what had these ordinary people, and the superpowered individuals he'd hired before, actually given him in return?

Almost nothing. Leon and Lady Goth vanished forever; the Mirror Master and the Piper had disappeared without a trace. His hundreds of thousands of dollars had vanished into thin air, yielding no intelligence whatsoever.

But on the other hand, by spending just a few thousand dollars, Savage had thoroughly figured out the patterns of the Living Hell's gang bosses—learned their habits, quirks, and weaknesses.

Moreover, the newsboys nearby had grown familiar with him, and in casual conversation, they revealed plenty of intelligence. In fact, he'd already met face-to-face with the leader of the former mid-sized gang and had preliminarily drafted an operational plan against the Living Hell.

With only a fraction of the original cost, he'd achieved several times the original results—so the money wasn't wasted at all.

Furthermore, when he hired others, the money went to them; but when he spent money here, he himself ultimately enjoyed the benefits.

He ate the food himself, enjoyed the services himself, drank the alcohol himself, and wasted his own time—even if the products themselves weren't worth the price, the extra gains he acquired were still profit.

Thinking this way, Savage moved to his next plan: he invested money in the mid-sized gang's leader, instructing him to procure weapons and overthrow his own boss.

To his surprise, the operation went extremely smoothly—the mid-sized gang leader shot his boss twice and took over as the new head of the large gang.

Once he realized the importance of the financier, this new boss became utterly dependent on Savage, obeying every order without question. Savage not only secured the most luxurious room in the entire district but also gained the loyalty of numerous gang members who took orders from him.

This was the greatest progress he'd made in Gotham.

Savage wanted to kill the gang boss and take control himself, but after just a short time among the gang, he realized these gangs had their own rules.

If he killed the boss and tried to rule alone, he'd still have to bow and scrape before the Twelve Families—and might even be shut out entirely.

Savage refused to serve beneath anyone, so he retreated into the shadows, manipulating remotely, letting the gang boss do his bidding.

Though the outcome wasn't perfect, years of failure had made Savage thrilled by even this modest progress. After all, this was a city of madmen—he'd already seized control of a gang in such a short time, which was quite impressive.

Now that he'd taken one major gang, the next step was to unify the Living Hell—but the Living Hell alone housed five or six major gangs; he'd have to eliminate them all to achieve unification.

To seize territory from other major gangs, two things were essential: manpower and weapons.

Recruiting men required money; paying their salaries required money; buying weapons required money; maintaining weapons required money; firing bullets required money; stopping the enemy from firing bullets also required money.

The gang boss was quite astute—he first seized the commercial street, gaining several shops that provided a steady stream of funds. But preparing for a full-scale gang war demanded enormous capital; the shop revenue was nowhere near enough. Savage's spending had to escalate again.

Gangs typically recruited from smaller gangs below them, but to make men fight to the death, you had to pay upfront: ordinary adult males received $400 per person in one lump sum; those with special skills received about 30% more.

If he survived the gang war, he'd receive steady wages, and the weapon he held became his personal property; the gang also had to cover his weapon maintenance and ammunition costs.

Buying weapons wasn't just about purchasing the guns carried by thugs—Gotham gang wars weren't about hiding behind cars and firing two shots.

First, you needed to build defensive lines. The best option was armored vehicles; if unavailable, modified civilian vehicles would do.

Then you needed crossfire and flank fire, full coverage. To counter police helicopters, you might need anti-aircraft weapons; if the enemy were from the Twelve Families, you might even need missile defense.

Everyone knew arms were a bottomless pit—there was no such thing as "too much firepower," only "more firepower."

At first, Savage refused to spend so much on arms—and got beaten back repeatedly.

Then he realized losing a gang war was even more terrifying: his recruits were dead, his wages were wasted, his weapons were lost—his entire investment had vanished.

If that was the case, why not invest more upfront, strengthen firepower? At least if he won, he could seize the enemy's equipment.

With intelligence superiority and overwhelming firepower fueled by massive spending, the Living Hell's gangs were crushed one after another; soon, all major gangs relocated.

Constantly facing competition, Savage had no time to calculate costs. Only after achieving a Jieduanxing victory did he tally up—and discovered he'd spent at least three million dollars just to make this gang the largest in the Living Hell.

Expenses included, but weren't limited to: all kinds of weapons available on the market, suspicious Soviet tanks of unclear origin, armed helicopters that looked like active military models but could be bought for extra cash, and even two missiles with their production serial numbers and markings ground off.

Savage didn't even know how the gang boss had acquired these weapons.

At the time, his mind was filled only with firepower—whenever an arms dealer showed up, he just bought everything outright. Now he had a pile of bizarre weapons he couldn't even sell.

Previously, the tension of gang wars forced Savage to spend heavily—because if he refused to pay, the rival gang would mysteriously acquire funds, buy these weapons, and inflict devastating losses on his side.

After several such episodes, Savage decided to buy everything offered, regardless of source or future utility—just buy, no questions asked.

When he calculated the total, Savage felt a twinge of guilt. In truth, the million-dollar figure he'd told Cold Captain and the Mirror Master included the value of his collectibles—he didn't actually have that much cash on hand.

Though he felt pain in his wallet, he'd achieved tremendous progress: the entire Living Hell region now lay under the control of the gang he manipulated—this was an unprecedented victory.

But soon, new troubles arose.

Many knew that conquering a realm and ruling it presented different challenges—but when it came to spending, ruling was the true bottomless pit.

To campaign in other regions, he needed more men—and not just any men. They had to learn to operate the new weapons: if you had tanks, could you drive them? If you had armed helicopters, could you get them airborne? If you had missiles… well, without launch silos you couldn't fire them, but even for deterrence, you needed some knowledge.

Moreover, Savage knew sustainable growth required more than just him pouring money in—he needed the region he controlled to generate its own wealth.

To do that, he had to upgrade local industries, attract more consumers. Only when commerce thrived could he collect more protection fees—but to make commerce thrive, he had to upgrade industries; to upgrade industries, he had to invest more…

And this time, it wasn't small-scale tinkering. The Living Hell's population had grown, not declined; its commercial potential was enormous—and so was the initial investment required.

Savage soon fell into the same trap as Bruce Wayne: he had assets, but little cash. Construction was underway everywhere; money was needed everywhere. If he didn't quickly raid one wall to patch another, his cash flow would collapse—and he'd be finished.

But Savage had other sources of money. He'd lived so long that even a random bowl he picked up in his youth was now a cultural relic. If he sold his less important collectibles, he could quickly raise massive liquid capital.

Many people still loved collecting—but anything labeled "urgent sale" left little room for negotiation on price.

Especially for collectibles, whose value can't be measured by rigid standards, sellers under pressure were crushed mercilessly.

At this point, Savage felt victory was within reach. He thought: once he seized the East District—the most populous area—all other regions would be insignificant. Even if he used these people as hostages, they'd have to negotiate with him properly—and then he'd recoup every penny he'd spent.

But he didn't know that in a meeting room at Wayne Tower, Bruce sat at the head of the table, with the heads of the Twelve Families seated in two rows.

At the end sat several major gang leaders, two of whom had just died in battles against Savage, and one who had died twice.

"Alright, friends, didn't I tell you? If you cooperate and put on a show, Savage will be forced to sell his collectibles at rock-bottom prices."

"If you acquire them through various channels and resell them at high prices, you'll make money lying down," Bruce said casually.

The Twelve Families' leaders began rubbing their hands together, but Bruce added: "But clearly, we haven't pushed him to the brink yet. The price now won't be as low as you imagine."

The gang leaders understood instantly. They exchanged glances, and one spoke: "So if we push him to the edge, we'll get the price we want?"

Bruce nodded. "The more desperate he is, the lower the price. Once he's sold off the mediocre pieces, the real treasures will come…"

"The tighter you squeeze him, the more he'll spit out."

All the gang leaders looked at each other, their eyes gleaming.

The one thing in this world that most awakens human potential and sharpens wisdom: profit.