Chapter 109: There Is a Game Called Who Is the Idiot

The Americans have demonstrated through a series of maneuvers that they are indeed shameless. It matters little if you follow the rules; they are currently playing the game of closing the gate to beat the dog.

The Hunt family and the desert princes have fallen, plummeting into the very pit they dug for themselves. The desert tycoons are relatively unscathed—oil is valuable right now, and these losses are merely a minor game to them. The Americans, however, are clearly unsatisfied; they intend to bury the gold speculators as well.

Do not listen to their rhetoric about a free economy; it is pure deception. Such a thing has never existed in the United States. If you play with trivial matters, it is of no concern, but should you touch upon core interests, someone will naturally emerge to deal with you. In truth, everyone is the same; no one is in a position to point fingers. It is just that the American methods are slightly cruder and less refined.

In this world, where there are clever people, there are also fools. Seeing that gold had not dropped significantly, a group of "freshly bathed" suckers jumped back into the water.

"Young Master, gold still seems to have the momentum to push higher. Should we reduce our holdings?" Though he knew a significant surge was unlikely, Uncle Fu could not help but feel a twinge of worry.

"It’s fine, Uncle Fu. They are just driving up the price to offload their positions; it won't last long. The lesson of silver is right before our eyes. If they don't restrain themselves now, they will meet a miserable end." William White was unconcerned. With central banks now stepping in, there was no possibility for gold to rise further.

When the market opened the following day, gold pushed above 850 before it could climb no more. There was no consolidation; the price began to plummet. What was truly absurd was that people kept rushing in to buy the dip, convinced that this was merely a shakeout.

"Boss, the other side is taking profits. The volume isn't massive, but it is resolute."

The old man clicked his tongue and grumbled resentfully, "This bastard is truly cautious. Damn it, is he just taking his gains and running?"

The arrival of a third party to loot the market was the last thing these people wanted. They were simply unsure whether this was meant to be a slap in the face to the Trading Commission or a rock thrown at the heads of the Hunt family.

A flood of sell orders easily tore through support level after support level. The experts who were desperately pumping the market were still stubborn, spouting nonsense and changing the subject without offering any substance. Their drivel could not mask the carnage in the gold market. In just two hours, dozens of small and medium-sized speculators had their positions liquidated. The ferocity was terrifying.

The gold market was filled with cries of despair. No one knew what was happening, only that the price kept falling and falling.

Old man Hunt, watching from the sidelines, was so angry he laughed. "Damn it, you can mess with gold all you want, so why the hell won't you let us be?"

William White thought he had lost his mind; a string of successes had turned him into a moron. Dragging the desert tycoons into his get-rich-quick scheme was one thing, but trying to control the U.S. financial market? This wasn't just a flight of fancy; it was sheer idiocy.

In Western society, the most fragile egos belong to the Jewish financial groups. When their country is already locked in a struggle with the desert tycoons, were you really planning to pull the rug out from under them? As for the place they chose to settle, it was truly a hellish spot—completely surrounded by enemies. If not for their resilience, they likely would have been wiped out long ago.

William White could not concern himself with the survival of others. He was currently very pleased; the profits from this "taxing of the passing trade" would be substantial, enough to make those bastards green with envy.

Facing the aggressive Federal Reserve, the wealthiest family in America acted with brazen audacity. They simply lay down and refused to play, declaring they didn't care about their silver anymore. "Believe it or not," they signaled, "I will trigger the collapse of dozens of banks."

Playing the rogue? Good grief, there’s such a way to play?

It was long ago articulated in *Das Kapital*: if you owe a bank a thousand dollars, they will drive you mad; if that number is a hundred million, then congratulations—the bank will not let you go bankrupt.

The fish rots from the head down. Since the authorities could act recklessly and interfere with the capital market at will, the Hunt family would naturally act like rogues as well. "If you don't leave me alone, I'll die, and you won't fare any better."

Upon hearing the news from Uncle Fu, William White was astonished. He never imagined such a bizarre tactic existed.

"Young Master, do we need to cause them some trouble?" Seeing his young master lost in thought, Uncle Fu offered a suggestion.

"Heh, no. Doing anything more would be counterproductive. This is a battle between shameless people; we shall not participate."

William White realized that the futures market was truly boring if one could simply act like a ruffian. He decided to participate less in the future. He even suspected that if his own profits were any larger, they might genuinely dare to tear everything down and start over.

Finding fault is easy, isn't it? Capital, taxes, trading methods, sources of information—if someone decides to abandon all shame, no amount of preparation on your part will save you.

His assessment was not wrong; someone did indeed want to strike him hard. Unfortunately, the idea lacked support. First, they lacked moral standing; second, the target was no small fry. He had widespread fame and social influence, and he was closely connected to many powerful figures. What made them most wary was his unscrupulous nature. If they did not wish to make a mortal enemy, it was best to show some restraint.

Wall Street has no friends or enemies, only interests. When facing a barbarian holding vast amounts of cash, conventional methods are truly useless. The Hunt family demanded the Federal Reserve guarantee them a five-billion-dollar low-interest loan.

The Federal Reserve nearly fainted. Unless they secretly printed the money themselves, they didn't have five billion even if they sold their own trousers.

Damn Texans! They had also marked William White as an enemy. Neither of these two parties were good people.

*Wait*, what is that White boy up to? Why isn't he continuing to kick them while they're down?

"Henry, any news from Los Angeles?"

"Boss, I’m afraid you'll be disappointed. Aside from making movies and attending various charity galas, he is thriving in the upper echelons of society."

"Shit. Keep a close watch on him. I don't want any more surprises."

The old men were destined to be disappointed. Regarding this rotten market, William White was not interested. He was here to enjoy life, not to be a money-making machine. With this spare time, he might as well practice his Japanese with his assistant.

The game consoles hadn't been mass-marketed yet, but the prototypes were being sent to movie theaters. Market testing was the most reliable method—far more effective than any flowery speech. These novel arcade games were naturally popular. For *Tetris*, many suggested changing the name to *America-is*. Of course, this suggestion was rejected on the grounds that linking a nation to a game was not sufficiently dignified.

Well, one man's shamelessness was truly breathtaking. Those who wanted to criticize him for regional bias had no choice but to shut up; his patriotic sentiment was already overwhelming.

Change it? How could he change it? He was a Texas cowboy. If he changed the name, how could he ever return to Texas?

Texans have little sense of belonging to the United States, especially in the current economic climate; some were even talking about secession. You really wanted to play these games? The name was chosen with foresight, so now he could just rattle it off.

Although there were no problems for the moment, things were not that simple. Someone must be pushing this from behind; otherwise, it would not have fermented so quickly.