Chapter 976: Team

Under the flashing magnesium lights, Diego gripped Lans’s hand tightly, “History will remember this moment!”

Lans shook the hand firmly, “Yes, history will remember this moment—Rapa is ushering in a brand-new future!”

Then came the grand banquet, attended by over a hundred people, where mountains of food were constantly shoved into mouths or dumped into trash bins.

For those invited to such a high-class dinner, what delicacy had they not tasted before?

A dish might be touched only twice before being replaced by a new one.

Aside from the occasional bite stolen by servants, the replaced dishes were ultimately thrown into the trash.

Reporters hid in the kitchen, meticulously documenting all of it.

This was all arranged by Lans—these reports and photographs would, at the critical moment, give people a “direction to move forward.”

The next day, the Rapa government announced to the world that, due to the influx of foreign investment and rising incomes, it would create a better investment environment.

Therefore, Rapa would impose taxes on citizens earning more than twelve thousand Paras annually.

The tax rate was temporarily set at twelve percent, increasing by one percent for every additional two hundred Paras, up to a maximum of fifty percent.

This news did not provoke much public anger, since among Rapa’s twelve million people, Lans’s factories employed only seven or eight thousand.

Although these seven or eight thousand people were dissatisfied, they still had jobs and relatively high incomes—they could afford a ten to twenty percent tax.

Of course, they weren’t exactly happy, since hard-earned money still had to be handed over to others.

The Rapa government made no mention of food distribution to surrounding regions, worsening the food crisis in nearby and distant areas.

Lans’s people had fully retreated to Zolan, and Lans had bought land on Zolan’s outskirts, beginning construction of his own “castle.”

In the morning, he met a special team from home, whose key members came from different departments and organizations.

For example, the team leader was from the Federal International Economic Cooperation Agency, a newly established department proposed by Lans, refined by Senator Cleveland, and swiftly approved by Congress.

This department’s mission was to promote economic, cultural, and political cooperation between the Federation and overseas regions by establishing bilateral economic, trade, and financial ties.

It held significant autonomy in foreign affairs, reporting directly to Congress.

Over the past two years, intervention in international affairs—including wars—had yielded clearly positive results.

The Federation’s economy had been rapidly declining, with some experts predicting a depression lasting at least a decade.

They cited past recessions as proof, claiming this depression would be unprecedented.

Public reaction had indeed matched their fears: wages had not risen in years, consumer spending had dropped, real estate development had slowed or regressed—all signaling an impending economic collapse.

Yet after merely intervening in one international war, the Federation’s economy unexpectedly began to improve, finding a new growth point and rapidly warming up.

Under the sustained economic stimulus of the war, Federation experts now unanimously agreed the country had already exited its recession, and growth would continue until a decade or even twenty years after the war ended.

The Presidential Palace, Congress, and more politicians realized that not just capitalists could profit from war—the Federation’s government could too—so they began actively interfering in foreign affairs.

This handling of the Yamen issue was a “practice run.”

The team leader’s name was Albert Smith, a typical old-school Federate, whose ancestors were first-generation immigrants, rumored to have some political connections.

He wore a slicked-back hairstyle, appearing energetic, but his bluish chin gave an odd impression.

“Mr. White,” he strode forward as they met, gripping Lans’s hand firmly, feigning humility, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Albert Smith of the International Economic Cooperation Agency—call me Albert!”

Lans smiled in return, “No problem, Albert—you can call me Lans.”

“We’re essentially allies now—any issues, communicate promptly!”

Albert immediately nodded, “You’re absolutely right—we’re comrades on the same front, the closest of allies.”

He paused, then turned to introduce the people behind him, “This is Andy.”

The man standing behind him had golden-brown hair and looked somewhat aged, probably in his late thirties.

His smile wasn’t as sincere as Albert’s—even though Albert’s was fake, it was convincingly fake.

Andy’s wasn’t convincing at all; his acting was poor.

“Mr. White!” he shook Lans’s hand and introduced himself.

Andy came from a non-governmental organization—the Federal International Human Rights Investigation.

He was a senior officer there, primarily tasked with advising backward regional governments on democratic and human rights development.

According to their public statements, the organization resembled a consultancy, offering democratic and human rights solutions to governments.

In reality, it was an intelligence agency with official backing, its core officers drawn from the Federation’s government and intelligence departments.

Ostensibly observing local human rights issues, its real role was intelligence gathering—and possibly providing funding, technology, supplies, or even arms to local human rights groups.

In plain terms, it was a friendly organization aiding anti-government forces.

Since the Federation government publicly pledged non-interference in other nations’ internal affairs, it couldn’t openly do these things—it contradicted their public image.

So this was a non-official, civilian-initiated organization, entirely independent of the Federation government.

Everyone knew the Federation was a highly free nation.

Some liked people, some liked horses, some liked sheep—that was their freedom.

Just as some, after eating their fill, idly decided to contribute to international human rights—that was their own business, unrelated to the Federation government.

Andy carried the typical arrogance of a government employee; compared to Albert, he seemed more like an official. Lans didn’t care about his slightly cold demeanor.

The world has many people—you can’t make everyone smile at you; some will always frown.

Then came representatives from several Federation charity organizations—Rapa was a poor, backward place, perfect for charity.

Whether they were truly here for charity or to launder money, Lans didn’t much care—they were allies anyway.

After a round of introductions, everyone sat down.

“I heard unrest has already broken out in distant regions.”

Albert was the team leader and a Federation government employee with political ties, so Andy had no resentment toward him.

Lans didn’t deny it; he sat relaxed on the sofa, legs crossed. “We’ve bought up their grain in bulk—now a run on food has begun, and food circulation will soon halt completely.”

“The situation will only worsen—soon they’ll face a full-scale conflict with Rapa’s ruling elite.”

The new team members all nodded, yet their faces showed no gravity—only relaxed smiles.

No matter how bad things got here, the dead were foreigners with no connection to them—they felt no psychological burden.

Albert rested one hand on the sofa arm, leaning forward slightly. “Who do you think will win—Rapa’s government or these rebels?”

Lans answered without hesitation, “Rapa’s government, of course.”

“They control the most resources in society and hold the military—the ultimate weapon.”

“Rapa’s civilians are poor; unlike the Federation, they can’t buy weapons and ammunition at the corner store.”

“They lack the capacity to arm themselves against the government.”

These words drew more nods. Albert pressed on, “If so, does that mean popular movements can never threaten the ruling elite?”

Lans’s gaze lingered a moment on Albert and Andy. “That’s precisely why you’re here.”

Albert clearly knew more than most—if not for Lans, his department wouldn’t exist, nor would this special trip.

Before arriving, his superior told him his job here was to follow Lans’s orders.

Lans, not Albert, Andy, or any member of Congress, was the true architect of this plan.

This revelation surprised Albert—he’d assumed Lans was merely a capable gang leader, incapable of toppling a nation.

But his backers had been honest enough to give him the basics; once he understood, he had no further doubts.

Now he appeared extremely humble. “Mr. Lans, we arrived with a work plan—if you need any adjustments or cooperation, please tell me.”

He handed over a file. Andy glanced at him, lips moving as if to speak, then hesitated and didn’t reach out.

Lans took the file, skimmed it briefly, nodded with a smile, “I will.”

(End of Chapter)