Chapter 104: The Arrangement of the Foot Basin

The Foot Basin was far colder than Los Angeles. Wrapped in his cashmere coat, William White descended the gangway at a leisurely pace.

Having declined pick-up offers from several Foot Basin companies, William and his entourage left in a car sent by the comic company.

Indeed, Viking Pirate Comics already had its own studio in the Foot Basin and was setting up distribution points.

To the people of the Foot Basin, this inconspicuous comic studio was insignificant; what concerned them more was the business of his adapter cards.

Although he had traveled by private jet, the long journey was exhausting. William White planned to take it easy for a day and postponed meeting those people until tomorrow.

Well, someone was being sentimental again. If he had taken commercial flights, it probably wouldn’t have been too much trouble—after all, it was only about a dozen hours, not a trip from New York to Tokyo.

After a soothing hot bath, much of his fatigue eased, but the Japanese-style robe he wore was somewhat ridiculous.

Damn, it was supposedly a large size?

“Suzuki, bring me another robe.”

“Hi, please wait a moment.”

Since he intended to learn some Japanese, the charming young woman tried her best to speak in Japanese.

William White found his status rising rapidly. English and Japanese were worlds apart; even without understanding their words, the tone alone made him feel elevated.

He stuffed himself with three servings of wagyu beef before feeling full and was rather speechless. Fortunately, it was room service. Had the locals outside seen this, they’d surely be astonished.

Seeing the boss’s good appetite, the young woman was delighted.

William White felt a bit dizzy. He couldn’t comprehend why the girls in the Foot Basin had such peculiar teeth.

Well, they didn’t think their sharp canines were odd; some even found them charming and playful.

His adverse reaction was purely due to his own bad taste. Those pointed “tiger teeth” always made him uneasy.

What if he got bitten during… intimate moments?

With teeth like that, you didn’t even need a knife to cut watermelon—truly terrifying.

He initially thought this was an isolated case, but ended up seeing at least two more like that in the hotel. Perhaps it was a genetic trait.

Could it be to facilitate eating raw meat?

The three game manufacturers were just a brief stop. He had no time to visit their factories, so seeing their prototypes in Tokyo was sufficient.

He never doubted the Foot Basin’s manufacturing capabilities. People there were meticulous in this era, though the next generation might not be so reliable.

His real purpose in coming to the Foot Basin was to inspect his studio; he had no time to waste on idle chatter with old-timers.

In truth, those folks were swamped too. Since no arrangements were needed, they busied themselves with their own tasks.

He was not unfamiliar with the comic company’s team; at least they had all spent two weeks in Los Angeles.

This trip was merely to observe progress up close. The comic’s main focus was on the Foot Basin and Darwin. If not completed on time, he’d have to add more manpower.

The results were very satisfactory, far ahead of Los Angeles’s progress. William White felt a twinge of pride in his arrangement; without it, even half that progress would have been impressive.

Hard work deserved rewards. He was not from the Foot Basin and couldn’t bind these people with corporate culture, so money was the only effective incentive. That tool worked well everywhere.

“Fujita, keep an eye out for suitable office buildings. We need a better work environment.”

As the Foot Basin manager, Fujita wielded great authority. He wasn’t worried about the company’s development; the boss had ample funds and decent IPs in hand—there was no way to lose money.

“Understood, boss. What size would be appropriate?”

“Tsk, you guys don’t use square meters, so I can’t say exactly. You know White Studios? Just a bit bigger than that.”

Fujita felt dizzy. The Foot Basin wasn’t like the U.S. The so-called twelve-story building there was already pretty good.

“Got it, boss. I’ll start looking immediately.”

“Mm, nothing else for now. Let’s get this done quickly and keep up the good work.”

“Yes, we’ll work hard.”

William White nodded and left. He didn’t have much time in the Foot Basin. The investment department here needed to be established as soon as possible.

Like all multinational companies, overseas profits were a black hole. As long as you didn’t distribute dividends, you could keep investing without anyone coming to tax you.

William White was actually quite fair. Profits from adapter card sales in the U.S. would partially return to him.

As for other regions—well, he still had plenty to invest in.

This was considered reasonable tax avoidance in the U.S. If you pushed it further, you could have overseas companies incur heavy losses.

Don’t be surprised—public companies did this, and shareholders rarely complained.

Every time the Americans enacted major tax cuts, huge capital inflows followed. It was almost a tradition; no one protested whoever was in charge.

The Foot Basin’s economy was on the cusp of takeoff, and he wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. Besides the visible capital, offshore companies were also necessary.

For now, small-scale operations sufficed. When the time was right, he would build his position aggressively.

“Suzuki, urge the printing machinery people to finish the contract quickly. I won’t go this time; I’ll wait until the equipment is in place.”

Darwin’s printing plant had undergone a major upgrade, but locals couldn’t understand why so many machines were needed. The entire Darwin area couldn’t possibly use all that.

The final challenge was transportation. Shipping was cheapest but slow.

Weekly publications were time-sensitive. If the quantity was small, air freight was an option, but large volumes would be problematic and not cost-effective.

No better solutions for now; renting two fast transport ships would have to do.

He hadn’t completed his layout in the U.S. yet. When he owned a newspaper and magazine, these issues would naturally resolve themselves.

“Still not enough money!”

It wasn’t whining. Although the economy was terrible, traditional print media was doing well, and the television industry was even growing against the trend.

Media and entertainment had become hot commodities. Everyone seemed eager to get involved. Not only was Wall Street’s capital restless, but European and desert-based tycoons were actively participating.

The reason was simple: profitability. William White wasn’t superhuman; there were many stronger players. Lucas wasn’t a ready target for nothing.

He paid no mind to these changes. If it were that easy, the old fox Lucas wouldn’t let others profit off him.

Try investing in Star Wars—you’d be lucky if they even noticed you. Even fools knew the film was profitable; the old fox had to know that too.

After all these years, how many Hollywood films have grossed over a hundred million?

How many flopped?

Don’t even talk about a hundred million box office. Just getting on the big screen was a success. If a film earned over ten million, people quietly prayed to God. This was no joke—it was reality.