Chapter Fifty-Eight: Harvesting the Fruits

As October arrived, the Hunter family plunged into a frenzy; the surge in prices could no longer be explained as a mere correction—this was blatant market manipulation. In truth, they were in a miserable predicament. Once the price approached twenty dollars, profit-taking orders flooded the market. Though the withdrawals were discreet, they were resolute.

Now, the Hunters found themselves riding a tiger they could not dismount. Silver appeared lively enough, yet the momentum traders failed to follow through, and the futures brokers clearly disliked this commodity. These fellows had been too naive. Sure, one can make a solitary bet in investing, but at a hundred times leverage, who would dare? Is it you who’s foolish, or your whole family? After decades of fleecing the naïve, fools had become increasingly scarce.

That was the reality of Wall Street: swindlers abounded, but there weren’t enough fools to go around. With such obvious manipulation, some might take a quick profit and leave, but few would make a single, all-in bet. Institutional investors wouldn’t touch it, regardless of how mad the Hunter family might become.

Now the Hunters were confused. The desert tycoons had injected capital again, making the situation impossible to explain. Clearly, their initial judgment was wrong; the recent reduction in long-term positions was not the work of those nouveau riche oilmen.

William White, meanwhile, was unconcerned. Even if the Hunters discovered his involvement, it didn’t matter—he held only forty percent of his position, and at very low prices. He was eagerly anticipating the expressions of those old men; he wondered if they’d spit blood in frustration.

The Hunters truly faced trouble now. To push silver prices further, they needed support from the banks. Interest rates were terrifyingly high; without suitable collateral, banks would never lend. The clearing banks for the futures companies were getting nervous, fully aware that if anything went wrong, they’d all go down together.

The desert magnates' renewed investment seemed to restore some confidence. Having come this far, they had no choice but to keep supporting the Hunters. Yet curiosity gnawed at them—who were these holders of long-term positions? Though their selling was slow, their actions were steadfast, unaffected by external factors.

Upon learning the cost basis of these positions, the group was finally relieved. Less than six dollars! Each contract netted tens of thousands in profit. How many contracts did this bastard have?

A bunch of fools, wearing expressions as if they’d eaten dung—no words could describe their envy and hatred. Identifying the culprit wasn’t easy; the accounts were scattered, registered under various mining companies. Another serious issue: these people were not to be trifled with. Two banks had already received stern warnings.

The financial world was small; anyone could imagine the horror of having your family dog dyed green without your bodyguards or relatives noticing. The implication was chilling. At first glance, these seemed like the pranks of petty thugs, and if you reported it, the police would likely agree. Yet the details were odd—these homes used professional security systems, and nothing valuable was lost, not a single item.

What kind of street punk had such professionalism? This was a naked threat, without the slightest attempt at concealment. Banking, while it does offend people, never to this degree. Recalling the recent oddities in silver trading, the old men’s sphincters clenched uncontrollably.

One thing was obvious—they had angered someone. If it happened again, there would be another warning, and the consequences were chilling to contemplate. The wealthy tend to value their lives; if the risk outweighs the reward, they avoid trouble, especially when the other party is clearly unreasonable. Such flagrant intimidation bordered on madness. Should anyone still tempt fate, William White would have no qualms about letting accidents happen.

Any family that had stood for a century was not easily cowed; the Hunter family had such methods too, but attack and defense were different matters. When power is evenly matched, it’s best not to play games—no one wants to bear the cost of unintended consequences. Another critical reason: the Hunters themselves were far from clean. If things spiraled out of control, those eager to kick them when they were down would be many.

“Uncle Fu, our family’s security is lacking. We’re not short on money—it's time to expand,” William White said gravely; he hadn’t expected that even such cautious operations would attract attention.

“Yes, young master. Using this opportunity to hire bodyguards, we’ll scout for more capable people,” Uncle Fu replied, equally uneasy. The opposition was clearly organized, and their own forces were too thin.

“Uncle Fu, we need to train some ourselves. Through our connections in China, find some special forces veterans, and recruit some strong ones for us to train personally.”

“Yes, young master, but too many Chinese faces aren’t ideal; there are occasions where Western appearances are more convenient.” Seeing Uncle Fu’s expression, William White was exasperated. Despite all the Americans’ high-minded talk, discrimination was everywhere.

“Alright, Uncle Fu, let’s recruit some people from Kurka as well. Settle their families on the farm, so there are no worries at home.”

Every major American family had some security force; in Texas, it was even more pronounced. The weak-willed had long since lost their farms and businesses. Texans were tough; the state endured the most catastrophic weather in the country, and everything you saw in western movies could be found in Texas.

William White continued to build his strength, calmly selling silver futures each day.

With trouble brewing in the financial markets, other banks dared not act rashly. The open warning to two banks was a clear signal: if you don’t want a confrontation, keep your head down.

The Hunter family was not well liked. Anyone could find the answer through official channels. But again, if you were unaware before, you could act as you wished. Now, after the warning, feigning ignorance would only make people question your intelligence.

At this stage, the Hunters had no real choices left. If they didn’t want to lose everything, they had to keep propping up silver prices.

Of course, they had other cards to play. The Russians were clearly building up troops, and Afghanistan was on the brink of war. If conflict erupted, gold would inevitably rise, and silver would benefit as well. If America joined in, the Hunter family would make a killing.

Their final trump card was the government. If silver crashed, at least a dozen banks would fail, and no one would dare take the blame. If all else failed, they’d shove it onto the Federal Reserve. There was no way it would let the financial system collapse.