Chapter 914: Arthur's Awakening and Using the Spear to Attack the Spear

“Lans, I heard your movie made a lot of money, is that true?”

At the dinner table, Arthur asked Lans a question.

Mayor Williams glared at him. “Do you think that’s polite?”

“Ask Lans a question like that?”

Asking about someone’s income or other private matters is extremely impolite.

If Lans were just a minor figure, it wouldn’t matter—he’s a nobody, after all, with no dignity or personhood.

But Lans is no minor figure. Mayor Williams turned to Lans. “Ignore him.”

Lans was happy to answer. He first said to Mayor Williams, “It’s fine,” then nodded. “You could say yes.”

“After deducting all costs, I made over two million from this film, and I won awards.”

Last year’s year-end awards ceremony gave the Grand Prize to *Ambush at Jingang*—its artistry, storytelling, and use of new cinematic techniques were unquestionably number one.

Plus, the Federal Film Commission was entirely Lans’s people, so they swept every major award.

The Arts Committee was furious Lans had registered the Film Commission first, so they formed their own “Federal Film Arts Commission” and held a separate awards ceremony—*Ambush at Jingang* won nothing.

It was like a clear battle, a struggle, drawing plenty of attention and scrutiny.

But in the end, nothing much came of it.

If Lans can form a Film Commission, others can form other film industry committees.

If Lans can get his films awarded, then other private organizations can deny him awards.

But regardless, the fact remains: this film made a fortune. More people began negotiating partnerships with Wanli Distribution, wanting a share of box office revenue instead of fixed licensing fees.

One film alone pushed the buyout system toward extinction and directly accelerated the rise of box office revenue sharing as the norm.

Major studios are all setting up their own distribution channels, but until they solve accurate revenue tracking and enforce box office accountability, they’re unlikely to compete with Lans’s distribution company.

Hearing Lans reveal such a huge sum, Arthur couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath.

The family’s business assets are currently managed by Arthur and his mother—on paper.

In reality, a mature team runs everything; they’re just nominal CEOs or board chairmen.

It was clear Arthur was trying to do something with his life.

James was doing exceptionally well, and Mayor Williams, determined to ensure the Williams family had a successor, had been steadily raising James’s social status and influence.

The more James became “excellent,” the more Arthur looked like a failure.

Some people had already started comparing them—not because Mayor Williams or James instructed them, but likely on their own initiative.

Compared to outstanding James, Arthur spent his days wandering entertainment venues, constantly changing girlfriends, and squandering money. Everyone called him the shame of the Williams family!

He hadn’t cared much before—he never had to do anything with his life—but his mother wanted him to pull himself together.

Mayor Williams’s young wife was a woman of insight. She might not have had high education or come from an illustrious family, but she had vision—not the mindless kind.

She told Arthur: Mayor Williams is a mayor, and this indulgent father will eventually die. Once he’s gone, all power will fall into James’s hands.

If Arthur shows no value, will James, like Mayor Williams, unconditionally tolerate—or even enable—him?

Obviously not.

This made Arthur realize the truth: his father wouldn’t last much longer.

He spent one night secretly crying, then woke up the next day like a different person, beginning to think about the future—

But it didn’t last long. By afternoon, he felt mentally drained from all his thinking, wanted to relax, and went out—didn’t come back until midnight.

Still, something had changed. He now wanted to do something, to ensure that when Mayor Williams returned to God’s embrace, he and his mother wouldn’t live in misery.

After thinking it over, he knew nothing about business. The only thing he could think he was good at was running bars, strip clubs, and watching movies.

If he opened a bar or a strip club, Mayor Williams might die sooner—from anger.

So he finally turned his attention to filmmaking.

It made money, carried great influence, and Lans was already in it. While Mayor Williams could still protect him, he wanted to become independent—that’s why he asked this question today.

Even without tonight’s dinner, Arthur would have sought out Lans soon enough.

Hearing Lans reveal such a huge sum, Arthur became even more interested.

“If… I wanted to make a movie too, how would I do it?” he asked, full of anticipation.

Lans glanced at Mayor Williams, who chuckled twice—Lans understood immediately.

“I’ll give you a phone number. Go to the current head of a production company—he has scripts. Pick your actors, find a place to shoot, and go.”

“As an investor, it’s simple: choose a script that’s not terrible, pick a few actors audiences like, shoot it, and release it.”

“Profit or loss? Clear as day.”

“Of course, you don’t need to worry about massive losses—even if the box office flops, you’ll still recoup something.”

After this small interlude, the dinner ended, and the four went to Mayor Williams’s study.

Arthur was busy calling directors.

“If he causes trouble…” Mayor Williams sighed, “on my account, just give him a lesson.”

Lans nodded with a smile. “Don’t worry.”

“The worst he can do is get the lead actress pregnant.”

Hearing this, everyone laughed. The atmosphere instantly lightened.

When James brought the coffee, a relaxed conversation officially began.

First to speak was William.

“Mayor Williams, you know I’m about to take up my post in Hucheng. Honestly, it feels like a strange journey—taking me to places I’d never have seen.”

“I’m not sure how to be an excellent mayor, but you’re the model of success. Could you give me some advice before I start?”

James listened intently nearby, serving coffee while eavesdropping.

Mayor Williams tilted his head, thinking. “Actually, being mayor is simple. Just remember one thing.”

“As long as you don’t openly break the law, your power in the city is absolute!”

“Like the President—he can do anything he wants, as long as he doesn’t go too far.”

“Even if he oversteps a little, people won’t press him for accountability.”

“The first thing you must do after taking office is replace the police chief.”

“Law enforcement is vital to city stability. I heard the previous mayor took all his loyalists with him?”

William nodded. “Thanks to Lans.”

Mayor Williams sighed. “Then it’s easier—you can directly appoint whoever you think fit.”

“I know you have many brothers. Consider them.”

“Don’t care what others say. Only the local citizens decide whether you get re-elected.”

Hucheng isn’t an industrial city—workers are relatively weak. Ordinary residents hold more votes.

Winning public favor is the main job of any politician.

“If you gain support from over half the people, the election won’t be a problem!”

He added more details: which departments mattered, which didn’t, and how to handle relations with the city’s upper class.

These were invaluable insights—only someone from the same lineage would pass them on.

All of this was because of Lans’s favor—and James learned much too, which would greatly help him when he eventually succeeded Mayor Williams.

But the greatest benefit remained Lans’s.

When their conversation wound down, Mayor Williams shifted the topic to strikes.

“I heard they’ve contacted several unions and are organizing this. But the workers’ opinions aren’t unified—you’ve done well.”

“But I also heard another group will join this strike and protest.”

Lans lit a cigarette, crossed his legs, and sat casually on the sofa, propping his elbow on the armrest. “Who?”

“The unemployed.”

Mayor Williams shrugged, lifting his hand slightly. “They claim the city’s unemployment rate is directly tied to your company—because these jobs were taken by illegal immigrants.”

Lans couldn’t help laughing. “But the city’s labor shortage keeps growing.”

Mayor Williams nodded. The war had reloaded the industrial system with diesel—high-power engines roared again!

Belligerent nations had halted production of everyday consumer goods—soap, toilet paper, laundry detergent—all now imported from the Federation.

The Federation’s depression came from overcapacity and market saturation. Now, with the international market opened by war, experts believe this “sales boom” will last ten to twenty years after the war.

It’s a long period of sustained growth. Some domestic conglomerates have even proposed keeping the war going indefinitely.

On one hand, it drains other nations’ military power and renewable resources; on the other, the Federation maintains explosive economic growth alone.

The benefits of overseas war are too numerous to count.

But Congress and the Presidential Office have given no response to these proposals.

So blaming unemployment on refugees and illegal immigrants stealing jobs is profoundly unjust.

Mayor Williams nodded. “So this strike won’t just involve part of the working class—it’ll include unemployed people filled with social resentment.”

The unemployed have no steady income. Living in the city isn’t like living in the countryside—every morning you wake up, you owe money.

Regular bills, fees, even doing nothing still costs money.

These people, unwilling to work and dissatisfied with their lives, are full of bitterness toward society.

They won’t blame themselves. They’ll blame society. They’ll blame the state!

Their participation in protests could trigger unpredictable consequences.

Mayor Williams added another point: “I also heard the Labor Union is taking your actions very seriously. They plan to invite many reporters on protest day.”

“Domestic and foreign.”

Lans hadn’t known this—he frowned, understanding exactly what Mayor Williams meant.

“If there are this many reporters, wouldn’t it be harder for you to act?” William looked at Lans and delivered the “standard answer.”

Lans did not deny it. “They’ve clearly thought this through.”

With so many domestic and foreign reporters covering this massive march, if the Lans family’s gang dispersed the crowd or used violence to stop them, and it got reported, the Federation would have to deal with it to preserve its image.

Even if they didn’t arrest Lans and throw him in prison, they’d at least make some of his key men stand trial in his place.

They were using this method to restrict Lans from acting.

Mayor Williams’s expression also grew grim; if the protest began and couldn’t be swiftly resolved, the state government and Congress would surely see him as incompetent.

Ordinary citizens might think a mayor was incapable, and they’d just keep thinking that.

But for the Federation’s high leadership, if they deemed a mayor unfit, that mayor would soon find an excuse to resign.

Lans and Mayor Williams belonged to the same interest group; if Mayor Williams had to resign, a new mayor—less cooperative with Lans—or an outsider appointed from above could bring Lans trouble.

It wasn’t impossible. After all, the Labor Union was preparing to establish a Workers’ Party, converting its influence into political power—it might very well push to install a Workers’ Party member as mayor.

This was a classic chain of maneuvers: either Lans now complied with the union’s demands and disbanded, or allowed the union into his labor company.

Or else he’d face a massive protest—even during wartime—and Mayor Williams’s chair would become too hot to sit on.

William frowned; though this wouldn’t land on him, he had to put himself in the mayor’s shoes to figure out how to respond.

Mayor Williams showed no sign of anxiety, merely maintaining calm—that was the mark of an old politician.

Even if the shit had already surfaced, he could not only sit still, but ask the waiter for another serving of macaroni.

After a moment’s thought, Lans took a drag from his cigarette and dropped the butt into the ashtray. “I’ll handle this. I’ll make sure they can’t hold their march.”

William’s interest immediately stirred, for in his own thinking, he had no good way to stop the march.

Because protest marches are a basic right granted to citizens by the Constitution.

The First Amendment of the Federation guarantees citizens the freedom to speak, express opinions, and organize marches and protests.

So even if the Federation knew they planned this, all they could do was assign police to clear the route, reroute city traffic, and ensure the safety of protesters and onlookers—nothing more.

This was one reason the Labor Union kept growing: they couldn’t stop it, and the tactic was devastatingly effective.

Without any solution, they could only watch as the Labor Union grew into a new mountain.

Mayor Williams and James were both curious about Lans’s solution.

Lans didn’t hide it, but he didn’t elaborate either—

“There are always only a few ways to solve a problem: compromise, trade, or meet force with force.”

“As long as we don’t lift a finger ourselves, why not send someone else to stop them?”

Mayor Williams nodded slightly—he’d already figured it out. “Good idea.”

William had some suspicions, but wasn’t certain; of the four men in the room, only James remained utterly confused, unable to grasp what Lans meant in such a short time.

It wasn’t his fault—he’d had less experience, and had never encountered someone as unpredictable as Lans, so his thinking always lagged a step behind.

Seeing a solution in sight, Mayor Williams’s face softened with a smile. He brought up Lans’s son.

He even joked that if James or Arthur ever had a daughter, he hoped Ais could marry a girl from the Williams family, making the alliance between the three families unbreakable!

Lans neither agreed nor objected. Who could say what the future held?

That night, back at the estate, Lans made a phone call, ordering someone to bring Karl (the refugee Karl, not the crime boss of New Birmingham) to him.

Soon, Karl appeared before Lans.

He wore the same iron-gray coat with red-and-gray sleeve bands—he looked convincingly the part.

(End of Chapter)