Chapter 961: Diego

Diego had heard things about Lans White, so when his foreign minister brother-in-law mentioned this, images formed in his mind.

But now he looked at his brother-in-law with some uncertainty, “How much investment do you think a gangster can bring us?”

“A few thousand? A few ten thousand? Or a few hundred thousand?”

He didn’t hold much value for such things.

But his brother-in-law clearly saw it differently.

“Diego, times have changed. If we don’t keep up, we won’t just stay where we are like before—we’ll be completely discarded by the times.”

Lapar is not a wealthy nation; everyone knows this.

But that doesn’t mean there are no rich lands on Alaan—like the strongest power today, the Jede Republic.

A stable regime, a reliable military, and rising capitalism within its borders have made the Jede Republic the richest and most powerful nation on Alaan—without exception.

It was the Jede Republic that initiated this meeting of the Alaan National Union.

They are the true core group that opposes the Federation’s military presence and expanding influence on Alaan, because they’re riding the fast track of development.

Rapid growth brings massive increases in national strength; without external interference, perhaps in ten or twenty years,

the Jede Republic could begin swallowing neighboring nations and eventually unify the entire Alaan region into a single nation.

That’s why they oppose the Federation’s military presence so strongly—and why they pushed so swiftly for the Alaan Union meeting and its approval.

Everyone sees the Jede Republic’s development, but not just anyone can learn how to do it.

Asking the ruling elite to take money they’d normally stuff into their own pockets and put it into others’ pockets? They’re unlikely to ever do it.

Though they can’t do it, that doesn’t stop them from continuing to rule their nations the way they always have.

Some surrounding nations are developing; others are standing still. In the short term—at least over the next decade—no visible change will occur. Lapar remains Lapar; the Jede Republic remains the Jede Republic.

But now that the Federation has entered as a variable, things are different.

The foreign minister deals with this kind of work daily, so he understands clearly: elimination doesn’t mean becoming poorer or more backward—it means being “erased.”

The ruling elite. And the nation itself.

The Federation’s ambitions are almost written on their faces; their sudden involvement in a war that has nothing to do with them proves they’re growing impatient.

Of course, the foreign minister doesn’t actually know that joining the war isn’t just about impatience—it’s because domestic contradictions have piled up and must be resolved by exporting war.

Like rising unemployment and the ever-growing number of high school graduates needing jobs every year.

The social economy is declining; factories and businesses keep going bankrupt; more people lose opportunities to work, while the cost of living stays the same.

Class contradictions grow larger and more numerous as class disparities widen.

The Federation’s politicians find it easier to export these problems than to solve them internally.

War brings orders, stimulates economic recovery, and simultaneously consumes some population, keeping the Federation’s rapidly swelling numbers at a relatively stable average.

Of course, this refers only to what the Federation government can guarantee if it’s uncertain whether it will win the war—a minimum return.

But the outcome was unexpectedly excellent; they surpassed their goals by far, so their strategy began to shift.

People are like that: win a dollar, and you want two.

Their international posture is changing, and the pressure they exert on Alaan will keep growing.

Moreover, to counter the Federation, the foreign minister believes the Alaan Union will likely evolve into the ultimate form of a single nation.

Led by the Jede Republic’s ruling elite, this political bloc will control political transitions in the other ten member states, becoming a de facto “overlord.”

He’s discussed this with Diego, but Diego doesn’t care—he thinks this day may never come in his lifetime.

Whether it comes after his death? He doesn’t care.

Diego never liked his brother-in-law’s “complaints.” “You always talk about times, trends—what can they change for us?”

“Nothing. This country is how it is. No one can change it!”

“And is this why you support us establishing ties with the Federation?”

His brother-in-law had played some role in establishing ties with the Federation.

Cassia was originally only the deputy minister of commerce; the minister was controlled by another family and rarely did anything.

Domestic private commercial development was mostly managed by Cassia, yet no one thought his job mattered—

because the truly profitable monopolies were all in the hands of the ruling elite, so Cassia’s work mostly involved dealing with small and micro enterprises.

In Lapar's commercial system, they were absolute bottom-tier; even without Cassia, they could easily handle this underlying ecosystem.

But after Cassia visited the Federation twice and proposed establishing ties with them, he gained the foreign minister’s support.

Moreover, they had previously invited the Federation’s businessman Alberto to visit, which allowed the foreign minister to witness Cassia’s diplomatic ability.

Relatively speaking.

So this opportunity arose.

His brother-in-law fell silent for a moment, then smiled in agreement. “You’re right. You see things more clearly.”

“I’ve overcomplicated things.”

This flattery made Diego smile. “Hah! I don’t know if you mean it, but I like what you say.”

He rubbed his cheek. “Call Gomes. Tell him I want to meet this gang boss.”

“If he wants to do business on my turf, it’s like reaching into my pocket to pull money into his own. I need to know what the thief who steals my wealth looks like, right?”

The foreign minister looked at Diego with concern. “I heard he’s close to Federation high-ups. Don’t do anything reckless.”

Diego grunted twice. “I won’t be reckless. I understand the limits.”

Soon Gomes received the message. He’d barely sat down when he went to see Lans again. “Diego wants to meet you at dinner.”

Lans was reviewing documents he’d prepared before arriving, plus some classified files sent by Senator Cleveland.

He closed the files and looked at Gomes with mild surprise. “Why does he want to see me?”

Gomes knew Diego well. “Someone must’ve said something to spark his interest.”

Lans raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s meet him. After all, he’s the ‘boss’ in this game of ours.”

Gomes was worried. He looked at Lans. “Don’t provoke him lightly!”

Lans nodded. “I know.”

At the invitation of Diego, at five-thirty in the evening, Lans and his group—including Roger and other business delegation members—were invited to the Presidential Palace of Zolan.

The Presidential Palace stood on a slope northwest of Zolan, glittering like a king’s palace.

Normally, presidential palaces aren’t built like this—no president stays in office forever, so no matter how well it’s built, they won’t live there permanently.

But Alaan is an exception; many presidents and prime ministers here inherit their positions, so they build their residences and workplaces like royal palaces.

As the car convoy slowly wound up the winding road, it finally stopped outside the Presidential Palace. Lans stepped out; Diego’s people were already waiting at the entrance.

Though this place is poor and backward, they still observe proper etiquette—this at least shows they’re a civilized nation, despite their poverty.

After seeing the Lapar Grand Hotel, Lans had developed some immunity to the Presidential Palace’s opulence.

Soon, under the guidance of palace attendants who looked like royal servants, he followed the crowd into a vast reception hall.

It might have been seven or eight hundred square meters or more—spacious, with exquisite murals on all walls, and an overall lavish, gold-glittering decor that reeked of nouveau riche taste.

In such a huge room, only a few grouped sofas and a coffee table sat in the very center.

Diego was already seated there, short and stout.

Once someone is short and stout, and given that people here generally have slightly darker skin, they simply won’t look good.

Moreover, his obesity brings serious health risks: patches of acanthosis nigricans on his skin, likely diabetes, and it’s probably not mild.

When Lans entered the room, he saw Diego gulping down water in large swallows—but people here probably didn’t understand his condition or what he was facing.

When Diego saw Lans, he didn’t rise, only studied him with curiosity. “You’re Lans White.”

Lans bowed slightly. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. President.”

Diego raised his thick, stubby hand, gesturing for Lans to sit. “I heard you came to Lapar to invest. I’m curious.”

“I was born in this country and have lived here over forty years—I’ve never known what here could possibly be worth investing in.”

“I think you’d be better off interested in Jede. Their economy is more developed, with more opportunities to make money. Here? Everything’s backward, the people are poor.”

“So, can you satisfy my curiosity?”

Seeing this fat man’s expression of genuine curiosity, Lans didn’t disappoint him. “In my view, Lapar, Aldra, Jede—these Alaan nations aren’t very different.”

“A developed economy offers more chances to earn money, but also fiercer competition; those lacking competitiveness will lose money.”

“Lapar’s economy isn’t developed, but competition here is minimal. We don’t need to expend much to gain steady returns.”

“And, Mr. President, you know better than I do.”

“People are the only thing that can continuously generate profit—not anything else.”

This might have sounded vague, but Diego understood.

He understood not because he grasped the implied meaning, but because he took the words at face value.

People are resources. With people, you make money.

Just like his own way of making money: resources grow from the ground, they don’t run away—but extraction requires people.

As long as there are people, even if they just cut trees, they bring profit.

So people are the core resource.

That’s how he understood it.

Diego was satisfied with Lans’s answer and asked, “So what do you plan to invest in here?”

Lans pursed his lips and spread his hands. “I’ve just arrived. I haven’t systematically observed this society yet. I can’t give you a definite answer—I need to see what’s here first.”

Diego nodded. “A prudent approach. No problem.”

He glanced at Gomes among the crowd. “Are you close to Gomes?”

This question made Gomes break into cold sweat. He kept his face expressionless, as if he hadn’t heard a word.

At the same time, he silently begged Lans not to say “we’re close” or “we’re friends”—he already possessed some sensitive information; if he was too close to the Federation, Diego might seriously consider silencing him.

Lans also glanced at Diego, then smiled and said, “I’ve met him a few times.”

“The first time was when Alberto introduced us. Later, he visited the Federation several times, and I happened to be living near Jincheng City.”

Diego wore an expression of “I see,” and curiously asked, “Why didn’t Mr. Alberto come?”

“He and I are old friends!”

Alberto and Diego did have some connection; Alberto had given Diego some items—nothing particularly valuable in the Federation, but rare in Lapa.

Diego had few friends; this one, whom he rarely saw and who had no ties to Lapa or its ruling elite, had become one of his few friends.

“He’s dead.”

Diego paused, stunned. “That’s a regrettable piece of news. I thought I might still have a chance to chat with him.”

The news cast a slight heaviness over the room. During the silence, Diego picked up the iced fruit juice and drank a large glass.

“Actually, I have a decent impression of Federation people—wealthy, generous. But lately, some of your actions haven’t been pleasant to see.”

“They say you want to invade Yalan and annex the eleven nations, including Lapa, is that true?”

This question made the room’s atmosphere not just heavy, but tense and grim.

Lans wasn’t particularly tense. To others, rumors about President Diego might inspire fear or unease.

But Lans wasn’t afraid. He’d faced worse dangers. He believed that even if Diego were a fool, he was a fool who could control a nation—he wouldn’t be foolish enough to actually do something.

“It’s a lie, Mr. President.”

“The Federation government merely wishes to avoid another surprise attack by the Dantela people, and also wants to help our neighbors develop their economies.”

Diego tilted his head. “Then why don’t you just give us money?”

“If you give us money, we’ll become rich.”

The hall fell utterly silent. Lans slightly furrowed his brow. The question was stupid—but somehow, not entirely so. He wondered if people’s assessment of President Diego might be inaccurate.

“I give you a fish, you eat it, and your stomach is full—once.”

“But if I teach you how to use a fishing net, you can catch fish for yourself, and stay full forever.”

“So during negotiations with the Yalan Alliance, the Federation proposed developing mutual free economies, using the Federation’s advanced development experience to spur economic growth in Lapa’s backward regions.”

“That’s more meaningful than handing you a lump sum. A lump sum is just a lump sum—but learning how to earn money means you can earn it forever!”

After listening, Diego grinned. “You’re good with words, Lans.”

He glanced at the time, pushed himself up from his chair. “Let’s stop here for now. Are you hungry?”

Lans casually patted his stomach. “I am a bit hungry.”

“Good. My Federation friend, I’ll take you to taste Lapa’s cuisine!”

The dinner wasn’t particularly lavish—beef and lamb were ordinary ingredients, as were seafood and others.

The ingredients were fresh enough, the flavor decent—not unpleasant, but hardly astonishing or exceptional.

After dinner, Lans chatted with Diego a while longer. As he prepared to take his leave, Diego told Lans: though he was from the Federation,

he hoped Lans would respect and abide by Lapa’s laws. If Lans broke them here, Diego might not let him return directly to the Federation.

Lans nodded politely, but didn’t truly take it to heart.

The convoy he brought consisted of brand-new armored vehicles, not yet in service, already bulletproof.

Remove the round plate on top, install different attachments, and you could choose between a machine gun turret or a small-caliber cannon.

With these, even if Diego deployed his regular army, they could still fight.

But outwardly, he expressed his respect for Lapa’s local laws.

Back at the hotel, Gomez grimaced. “He suspects me.”

Lans sized Gomez up, then shook his head slightly. “Could it be that you’re just too wealthy?”

(End of Chapter)