Chapter 154 Plans to Move

William White knew that things were far from simple. Had there been no hidden hands at play, the whole affair would have long since concluded.

Like most nations in the world, as long as the law did not prohibit it, everything was fair game.

Seeing the situation spin out of control, William White was deeply annoyed. This was a revenue stream yielding hundreds of millions of dollars every year—how could he possibly compromise so easily? Since they wanted to play hardball, he might as well raise the stakes.

"Philson, notify Morgan to terminate the acquisition. I plan to develop my business in London, and I'm putting all my assets in America up for sale."

"Boss, isn't that a bit too drastic?"

"You don't understand. This is merely a probe on their part. Where there is a first, there will surely be a second."

"Boss, doing this will incur massive losses."

"Rest assured, nothing will go wrong. Just do as I say!"

*Holy crap, is it really that serious?*

William White was planning to pack up and leave, putting nearly all his properties on the auction block.

Choosing such an extreme approach completely caught everyone off guard. People were no longer pondering how to swallow up his assets; instead, they had to face the wrath of an enraged public.

What William White might say next was something they dared not even imagine. This was a clear declaration of mutually assured destruction.

Steve Ross had been in a great mood over the past two days. He knew very well that William White was having a miserable time.

*Go ahead and keep selling. If any problems pop up, you can just spend your time slowly fighting lawsuits.*

"What? What did you say? Selling the entire business as a whole?"

"Boss, I just got the word."

"Oh no, this is going to turn into a disaster."

His subordinates didn't understand the gravity of the situation, but he understood it all too well. Why would an enterprise developing so successfully suddenly want to leave?

It was simple! They were being driven out by persecution!

Rumors were now flying that this man was the richest person in America.

The richest person being persecuted?

Well then, the mastermind behind it all was obvious, a choice out of ten at most. It invariably boiled down to those ten major financial syndicates; no one else possessed the requisite qualifications.

Alright, even if those few syndicates managed to smooth things over, they would still have to face the man's relentless retaliation. Becoming the target of a madman was certainly no pleasant experience. This wasn't as simple as having your dog dyed green; this was the kind of thing that got people killed.

A bizarre spectacle unfolded: no one dared to buy.

To be precise, this was a moment of profound vulnerability for the major syndicates, who were struggling immensely of their own accord. Nobody wanted to provoke a man who had lost his sanity at a time like this.

Nobody buying? Even if nobody bought, he was still moving out.

Whatever some people's original intentions might have been, it no longer mattered; they had clearly pissed the guy off.

They had only just finished dealing with the Hunt family, and now an even more outrageous character had popped up.

The old men in Washington were beyond exasperated. They had already lost to the point of utter ruin, and now they had to inherit this kind of mess at the very end.

Unexpectedly, the opposition party remained completely indifferent to this golden opportunity to kick a man while he was down.

Did this mean victory was already in their grasp?

Clearly not. The matter was deeply troublesome, and they wanted nothing to do with it.

No wonder the unemployment rate was so high.

No wonder the economy was in such poor shape.

So that was the truth of it all.

Some things, the less they were explained, the bigger they tended to blow up. This was an era rife with ideological currents, where all sorts of conspiracy theories emerged endlessly.

If the situation were allowed to develop any further, a catastrophic crisis might genuinely erupt.

Feeling foolish yet?

Damn it, we were just the ones who started the fire; you lot can go clean up the mess yourselves.

The moral crusaders stopped making a fuss as well. This was no longer about some petty game; should the situation spin entirely out of control, every last one of them would be nailed to the pillar of shame.

Were they truly that selfless and public-spirited?

Stop talking nonsense. There was no such thing as causeless hatred in this world.

"Boss, our company's stock is suddenly being heavily shorted. The opponents are dumping shares regardless of cost."

"What? How much has it dropped?"

"It has plummeted by thirteen percent in less than five minutes, and the decline is still widening."

"Damn it, it must be that bastard."

"Help me get in touch with Citibank and Bank of America."

"Right away, Boss."

Steve Ross was growing frantic. How could Citibank and Bank of America possibly help him? The young man on the other side had gone completely off the rails; if anyone stepped forward to claim ownership of the feud now, heaven only knew what might happen.

"Boss, a lot of follow-up selling is coming in."

"Hmm, where are we at now?"

"Fifteen percent."

"Start buying back, but keep the volume modest. If anyone tries to buy in, keep dumping on them."

"Understood, Boss."

No one was going to follow up with buy orders. Such ferocious trading operations were practically amateurish—everyone already knew whose handiwork it was. It was better to steer clear to mitigate risks; should they end up victims of a hostile takeover, they wouldn't even have tears left to cry.

Having vented his pent-up fury, William White felt immensely refreshed. They were allowed to provoke him, but he wasn't allowed to fight back?

He couldn't care less who had made a move this time. Warner Bros hadn't missed a chance to antagonize him anyway, so they might as well take the fall; that bunch had certainly never brought any genuine goodwill to the table.

Wall Street was already sluggish as it was, and no one was willing to shoulder the risk. The meager funds in Warner's accounts were practically a joke.

The old men of the financial syndicates had now fully learned just how stubborn and difficult this fellow was.

The crux of the matter was that against such crude and low-level tactics, they were utterly helpless.

William White had even thoughtfully provided them with a ready-made scapegoat, and the size fit just right. They could handle the rest themselves!

Very well, since everyone had been given a graceful way out, Warner Bros deserved its misfortune.

They still wanted to loans from them?

What were they even dreaming of?

What irritated the old men the most was that they were the ones left to clean up this烂摊子 (mess).

In truth, institutions like financial syndicates had no business existing in the first place. They were fundamentally uncontrollable forces, and whoever sat in that seat in Washington had to deal with them above all else.

The reason this model eventually became unsustainable was largely due to this very cause.

Ever since Kennedy's mysterious and obscure death, the good days of those bastards had effectively come to an end.

Unbridled and reckless?

There were still plenty of people with deep insight; did they truly believe no one dared to deal with them?

In reality, they were well aware of this issue and chose to lie low most of the time.

U.S. dollars were obviously a fine thing, and to claim they weren't tempted would be an outright lie, but their current days were hardly comfortable.

They certainly hadn't anticipated this kind of stalemate. If they dared to make another move, it would no longer be a minor problem.

Their usual tactics for dealing with politicians simply didn't faze this man—he might even prove more radical than they were.

Facing someone who always preferred to resolve issues with brute force, it was impossible not to experience a splitting headache. As the saying goes, a thief may be on guard for a thousand days, but you can never be on guard against a thief for a thousand days. Should an unexpected disaster strike, crying to the heavens and earth would do no good.

No matter how unwilling Steve Ross was, being booted out of the boardroom by the directors was an inevitable outcome. Come what may, he was the most suitable scapegoat; with things blown up to such a massive scale, finding a couple of temporary workers to take the blame simply wouldn't cut it.

Did anyone sympathize with him?

Perhaps!

First of all, William White was not the one who initiated the provocation. Since they had the capability to provoke, they naturally had to bear the responsibility when things went south.

Most importantly, Warner's investments had failed year after year, and the shareholders had grown thoroughly sick of these sustained losses.

On the surface, the situation appeared to have calmed down, but things were far from simple. The syndicates had suffered a setback this time; even if they took no immediate action, a deep resentment had been forged.

Many syndicates also realized that the world had changed. Industries they had previously paid little heed to possessed such enormous, astonishing potential.