Chapter 472: 411. Chapter 405: Talks Break Down

411. Chapter 405: Talks Break Down

In this world, when you're in peril and need help, those willing to reach out and pull you up are exceedingly rare.

Far more numerous are those who step on you twice when you're already down.

Someone leaked the news that Jin Da Bank is currently struggling—most likely someone from another bank.

Banks, after all, exist to make a profit.

If Mr. Chobaf's Jin Da Bank truly faces a cash crisis, for these banks, it's a new "feast."

Jin Da Bank's depositors, and the goods Mr. Chobaf must quickly mortgage at low prices to plug the holes—these are all things the major banks covet.

Even if Mr. Chobaf survives this crisis, they still have ways to bite off a piece of his flesh through mortgage lending.

If he… doesn't make it, then all the better!

They can acquire those mortgaged assets at rock-bottom prices, gain a massive influx of depositors, and boost their performance—no matter what, they will never be the losers!

With such thoughts in mind, they naturally won't stay quiet; rumors that Jin Da Bank is out of money spread wildly.

Mr. Chobaf's core base consists of imperial immigrants and illegal immigrants, who distrust federal banks—this is what created Jin Da Bank and Mr. Chobaf's business miracle.

But now, this miracle seems about to end.

More people are demanding to withdraw their deposits; the bank's front door is packed with crowds waving deposit slips, their faces filled with unease, even terror!

Some homeless people are also waiting to withdraw money—they are loyal clients of Jin Da Bank, since anyone can deposit here.

Whether they have official status or none at all.

Many reporters have gathered nearby, all waiting for a chance to interview Mr. Chobaf; at this point, Mr. Chobaf realizes he's nearly finished.

He can only place his hope in the mayor—this is his last lifeline!

The mayor, lying in bed, listened to everything he said, including his request, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Joe, I can't do this."

"All the funds you invested in infrastructure projects have already been transferred into the project accounts—I can't withdraw them even if I wanted to."

"You understand how urgently the contractors need these funds; without new capital coming in, I must prioritize the city's development interests over personal ones."

"If you can find someone to take over these projects, I can help transfer the rights."

Mr. Chobaf's idea was to divert part of his city-investment funds—clearly, the mayor wasn't stupid, just defeated.

Even if he lost, these infrastructure projects are solid political achievements, enough to guarantee he'll retire peacefully, even if he can't advance further.

And to him, Mr. Chobaf is merely someone who paid his bills—he doesn't care what happens to Mr. Chobaf's future; he's already in this position, why care about others?

Watching Mr. Chobaf leave with a despairing back, the mayor's heart was heavy too.

He knew clearly: the problem Mr. Chobaf faces now is the same problem he faces—and there's no solution to it.

Win, and you take everything; lose, and you accept it.

Political struggles have always been this cruel.

Just days ago, the sky was clear and calm; now, days later, storms rage, as if the world itself is about to be destroyed beneath dark clouds!

"So, he has no chance of recovery now?" Lans listened as people discussed Mr. Chobaf's situation—the hottest topic in the Empire District these past few days.

Since all major banks have cornered Jin Da Bank, Mr. Chobaf's attempts to mortgage valuable assets elsewhere yield only tiny loan amounts.

Artworks once worth tens of thousands are now appraised at just ten thousand—only 20 to 25 percent of their value, and no one can reasonably object.

After all, gold prices aren't manipulated; the banks didn't lowball him on gold, since they don't buy it anyway—other places will pay market price.

But anything else with disputed value has become worthless.

Jin Da Bank's doors are now blocked, crowded with people waiting to withdraw cash.

No matter how much money he brings in from outside, it vanishes into depositors' pockets within moments—his life's path has reached its end.

Burton sat in the corner, deeply sighing.

Perhaps no one else felt as strongly about "Mr. Chobaf" and "Jin Da Bank" as he did—they were once entities he had no right to even look up to!

At the gathering outside Saint Naye Cathedral, he'd tried many times to approach Mr. Chobaf closely, only to be blocked by his assistants or bodyguards.

They looked at him like garbage—as if to say: a piece of trash has no right to get near Mr. Chobaf!

Back then, in Burton's eyes, Mr. Chobaf embodied the Federal Dream—not just one, but two, three, even ten Federal Dreams!

Now, he's on the verge of bankruptcy, while the man who once looked down on Burton seems to be moving toward success.

Burton bowed his head and murmured, "I've heard so. People say other banks are hunting him—he likely won't survive."

Lans nodded slightly. "Have someone keep watch…"

Before he finished speaking, Colinda knocked and opened the office door, poking her head in. "Mr. Chobaf wants to see you."

Lans hadn't expected Mr. Chobaf to show up while they were just talking about him.

Elvin glanced at Lans, then stood up; everyone else in the room rose too. Lans gave a slight nod. "Let him in."

Mr. Chobaf had no other options—if he had any, he wouldn't have come to Lans.

He saw many people leaving Lans's office, tidied his clothes slightly to avoid looking too disheveled, then pushed the door open.

Lans sat in his chair without rising, didn't invite Mr. Chobaf to sit—he left him standing stiffly.

He didn't even ask for coffee or anything else to be prepared.

"I need your help, Lans."

Lans gave no response, just kept staring at him; Mr. Chobaf had to continue. "I need a loan."

The two stared at each other for several seconds; Lans shook his head slightly. "Mr. Chobaf, look—you've been calling me by my first name since you walked in."

"You give me no sense of respect—how can I help you?"

"Maybe you think I'm being excessive, even overly petty—but you've forgotten: when you hired the Wolf Gang, our last shred of goodwill vanished."

"Now you come begging. You need to show me the attitude of a beggar. Do you understand?"

Mr. Chobaf's face had been pale and haggard—these past days, he hadn't slept a wink.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw collapse: the fury and helplessness of decades of effort and sacrifice turning to dust—so his face held no color.

Yet now, even so, it flushed red—then immediately paled again.

Beneath his skin, it seemed a magician hid, performing a color-changing trick.

After a while, he hunched over, bowed his head, staring at his own toes. "Mr. Lans, I need your help."

Lans nodded slightly. "I've heard much, Mr. Chobaf. It's hard for me to lend you money now—you can't repay it."

"And even if I lend you some, it won't change anything."

"Your credit has collapsed. Even if you filled every deficit now, you'd have no chance of recovery."

"If I were you, I'd hide some valuable assets and declare bankruptcy."

"At least then you'd have some security in life—you wouldn't be forced to start over at your age."

Mr. Chobaf's pale face flushed again—whether from shame or something else, no one knew.

"I want to borrow money," he repeated.

The two stared again for a moment; Lans frowned. "Do you have anything to mortgage?"

He nodded. "Antiques, artworks, real estate."

Lans thought for a moment. "I don't understand antiques or artworks—I can't transact on those. But real estate, yes."

"I want your bank building, your villa, and your estate."

Mr. Chobaf's face turned white again; his lips moved, then he said, "No problem."

He couldn't say no—he still wanted to hold on, still believed he might solve this crisis!

Out of respect for their shared imperial roots and past goodwill, Lans offered him 40 percent of the value—already high.

Though he knew Lans's offer was low, he still thanked him—Lans was at least willing to lend him money.

The estate, villa, and bank building were valued at roughly 300,000; Lans offered 120,000—120,000 couldn't solve his current crisis.

Lans had the mortgage contract ready: if Mr. Chobaf couldn't repay, Lans had the right to seize his properties.

At the moment of signing, he hesitated slightly—these properties represented all his success over decades, especially the bank building.

But now, he truly needed the money—even if it seemed insignificant.

Finally, he signed his name and pressed his fingerprint; Lans had cash delivered to him.

He took the money and left immediately, without looking back.

Elvin asked Lans: Will this improve his situation?

Lans told him: It will only make things worse!

In truth, no bank has a good solution to a bank run—depositors' demands to withdraw are legally valid.

You can't refuse them, for any reason—if you do, panic spreads. That's why Mr. Chobaf, despite knowing it's futile, still tries to resist!

Resist, and there might still be a chance; give up, and there's zero chance left.

He went straight to the bank with the cash, and in front of everyone, deposited it—yet as Lans said, it solved nothing; instead, it made depositors even more frantic!

Even when tellers announced that withdrawals now carried high fees and no interest, people still rushed to take their money.

How long he can hold on, no one knows—but everyone knows he won't last much longer.

Lans didn't pay him further attention; he only instructed Lawyer Roben to prepare to transfer all three properties into his name at any moment.

For days, rumors of Jin Da Bank's inability to pay deposits grew worse—even the mayor, lying in bed, began paying attention.

He ordered multiple government departments to investigate and follow up, and from his sickbed, assured reporters he'd do everything possible to protect people's interests.

And at this very moment, the Five Families' talks began.

The meeting took place in the Koda family's casino—during this "storm," the Koda family was likely the only force not directly involved; though they betrayed others, they didn't go too far.

Thus, they still consider themselves "neutral," not aligned with the mayor, and so they took on this role.

In fact, the city's unrest had hurt their casino business significantly.

No one wants to travel or play in a dangerous place—and Jingang City isn't the only one with legal casinos.

The tourists who come here to gamble and sightsee are actually the casino's main clientele.

Now that this group has stopped coming to avoid danger, the casino's business has naturally declined.

Alberto and Francisco arrived early in the morning; Bandi spotted Francisco and walked over, expressing condolences for Paul's murder while trying to persuade Francisco to side with him.

"The city is too chaotic, everyone is exhausted—whether we are, or the lower-tier members—it's time to get everything back on track."

"I believe that after this, people will realize that standing united is the only right path."

"Don't let momentary hatred cloud your judgment—remember what we truly need!"

Francisco made no response; Alberto replied, "We'll consider it."

Seeing how clearly unwilling these two were to cooperate, Bandi had no good options—they had believed the mayor's lies, and now their efforts had failed at the last moment.

Otherwise, he wouldn't even bother speaking to such a young pup now.

"In any case, people crave peace—this is an opportunity."

After speaking, he smiled and turned away, because the Kien family had arrived; compared to these people, he preferred to speak with the Kien family.

The war between the Kien family and the Bear Gang had ended; the Bear Gang had begun leaving Jincheng City, and they hadn't pursued them.

Both sides suffered heavy losses; if they continued fighting to the death, it would be extremely contrary to the family's interests—their war with the Bear Gang was over.

They too desired peace, to make up for the losses of this period.

Watching Bandi lobbying the head of the Kien family, Alberto withdrew his look of contempt.

Next came the Tita family; Salifo looked unwell—his arm was in a cast, suspended from his neck, and his face bore numerous scrapes.

Rumors said he nearly got killed in the earlier gunfight, so his rage was the fiercest!

He walked over to Alberto upon seeing him, greeted him, then turned to Francisco.

"I deeply regret the death of your father; I hope you've found some peace from your grief."

He glanced at Bandi, who was lobbying the Kien family, and his face twisted with disgust. "Kid, I never went to college—I can't offer you much advice on this."

"The only thing I can teach you is never to forget your hatred—once you forget it, you cease to be yourself!"

"Remember your hatred, then seek revenge—that's what we must do!"

"If it weren't for that bunch of bastards led by Cassia, and Bandi and his men, our situation wouldn't be this bad."

"They betrayed us—they don't deserve forgiveness!"

Alberto nodded. "We never intended to reconcile with them. We lost many people—we can't just stop just because they say so."

Salifo nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes—you're absolutely right."

"Why should they decide when to fight and when to stop?"

"Until we tear that bitch's head off and kick it like a ball, this war won't end!"

The talks hadn't even begun, yet their outcome was already clear.

The Cassia family arrived last—they knew they were despised, so they showed up last.

The moment Rick appeared, Salifo leapt to his feet and hurled the teacup beside him at Rick.

Rick dodged while shouting, "Are you fucking insane?"

Salifo reached for his waist, but his gun had been left outside—he cursed "Fuck!" and charged at Rick to fight bare-handed, but Bandi and his men immediately pulled him back.

"Calm down, calm down..."

"You want me to calm down?" Salifo shoved aside the men blocking him. "Let me tell you—this city has room for me or him, but not both!"

"Peace talks? Talk to your mother!"

He kicked open the door and stormed out.

Alberto glanced at Francisco, then stood and followed him outside.

"You're leaving too?" Bandi's face showed clear displeasure.

If Salifo could vent here, it was because the Tita family, though badly wounded, still had its core structure intact—once money arrived, they could quickly rebuild their forces.

Then why shouldn't the Pasreto family negotiate?

Paul, a man of great authority, was dead; the family was in chaos. In Bandi's view, they were the ones who most wanted peace—even more than he and the Kien family—to stabilize and resolve their internal problems.

Alberto tilted his chin slightly as he looked at Bandi. "It's not that we won't talk—it's that we'll talk with guns and bullets, not with words!"