Chapter 318: Fundraising

Just as Li Mochen and Angela were riding in the 'Norfolk Sanctity' on the elevated road, on a high-rise building three kilometers away, a black-clad man wearing sunglasses was tracking and observing them through the scope of a sniper rifle.

“Mr. Maeda Takumi, are we really going to abort the operation? I feel today is a rare good opportunity. At this shooting distance, even with the reinforced 'Norfolk Sanctity,' my gun can penetrate the rear door of the vehicle. I can responsibly say that if we join forces, the mortality rate for that Andre Lee Wiltonstein exceeds 80%.”

“No! I don't think now is a good opportunity. We still don't know what defensive forces are around him. Can you penetrate the 'Norfolk Sanctity'? Can you also penetrate the saint-level defensive armor on his body? It's not impossible, is it? Given Nathan's regard for him, it's not excessive for him to have saint-level equipment.”

A cold voice came through the black-clad man's earpiece: “Yvonne, based on our current investigation, this man does have some capable subordinates. He can even crush the Cardivin Group overnight. 'Iron Thorn' Emon Bertram and 'Phantom Heart' Deron are also eight-tenths likely dead at his hands. He is an opponent worthy of our caution. Behind him may lurk extremely powerful forces.”

“An opponent worthy of caution? Maybe.”

The black-clad man's lips curled into a disdainful smile: “But assassination and frontal combat are not the same thing, Maeda! I think you're overthinking it.”

“Assassination and frontal combat are indeed very different, but the premise is not to alert the enemy.”

Maeda Takumi responded with a firm tone: “The latest intelligence is that Miss Angela's side likely has legendary-level power, so I suggest you stop observing. You don't want to alert them, do you?”

“Are you that distrustful of my abilities? If I wish, even a legendary strongman would find it hard to perceive my presence. On the other hand, the two of you are more likely to be discovered.”

Though the black-clad man said this, he still moved his right eye away from the scope: “So when can we act? After he returns from the Hilton Hotel?”

“We'll see—”

This time Maeda Takumi's reply was slightly helpless: “Didn't the higher-ups warn us? Our premise for action is not to harm Mr. Medici's daughter, and absolutely not to ruin the cooperation between her father and our sect. The timing is also very inappropriate, within the range of the Great Magic Tower Array, you understand.”

“Understood, it's hard for us to escape afterward.”

The black-clad man smiled sarcastically: “The problem is, this guy has been hiding in that apartment for the past few days, rarely going out. It's really not easy for us to find a suitable opportunity to act. Maeda, how long do you plan to stay in Atlanta?”

“I think we won't wait too long.”

Maeda Takumi's tone was leisurely yet filled with killing intent: “Since we started cooperating, have there been any failures? No! So listen to me, Yvonne, we need to be patient hunters.”

…

In the conference hall on the fourth floor of the Hilton Hotel, celebrities and dignitaries gathered.

Li Mochen sat in a seat on the left side of the third row, listening listlessly to the speeches of several politicians on stage. Even the Comptroller, Ms. Elizabeth Isolde, could not say anything substantial at this time. It was nothing more than promoting the recent achievements of the Civic Party, looking to the future, then attacking the political views of election opponents, hoping that everyone present would generously donate.

This opening fundraising speech was just a formality; the real focus was actually the subsequent cocktail party. The candidates of the Civic Party would use this occasion to communicate face-to-face with the attending magnates, businessmen, celebrities, farmers, or union representatives. Amid the clinking of glasses, they would decide whether these people would support them and to what extent.

At this moment, around Li Mochen, people kept casting strange glances at him—some puzzled, some confused, some surprised, some disdainful—as if looking at a country bumpkin who had suddenly barged into a high-society banquet.

An ordinary person might feel restless, but Li Mochen remained at ease, not caring about others' opinions of him.

However, an old man with white hair beside him could not hold back. As a city councilman began his speech, the old man frowned and asked Li Mochen, “Hey, kid! Can you tell me? Who invited you here?”

“Ms. Isolde.”

Li Mochen answered bluntly: “Is there a problem, Mr. Isok?”

—He had seen the nameplate on the old man's chest. If he remembered correctly, this should be Uhtred Isok, a large farmer on the outskirts of Atlanta.

Due to the rapid expansion of Atlanta, this man's assets were also growing at an alarming rate. Besides that, he also had significant influence among the farm workers in the suburbs.

“No problem, but I've heard some things about you. You've been ostracized by the Wiltonstein family, right? Yet here you are, sitting here.”

The old man's expression was strange: “Or am I out of touch? Does a fighting star, not even a professional fighter, hold such high status in the eyes of those politicians?”

“Mr. Wiltonstein has acquired the Georgia State Post and the Atlanta Laborer Daily.”

Interjected a bald middle-aged man sitting on Li Mochen's other side: “They are still unaware of your acquisition of the Georgia State Post and the Atlanta Laborer Daily; your confidentiality is excellent. But I guess within three to five days at most, those who need to know will find out. Ms. Nanette Drew has a natural spotlight effect; from the day she arrived in Atlanta, she has been noticed by many political elites and even financial group leaders.”

As he spoke, he extended his hand to Li Mochen: “Nice to meet you. Ferguson Cultural Media Company, Mandev Ferguson.”

Li Mochen raised an eyebrow. He knew this man; Carl had mentioned him. Dwight Payton had personally recommended his comics to this man, but the result was not favorable.

However, since the other party was extending an olive branch, Li Mochen would not rudely refuse. He was actually quite grateful to this man; without this opportunity, he would not have thought of acquiring the Atlanta Laborer Daily, nor would he have had the chance to take over the Georgia State Post.

“You should have heard of me from Mr. Payton. It's a pity we couldn't reach a cooperation.”

After they shook hands, Mandev Ferguson's smile grew brighter: “To be honest, I wasn't entirely pessimistic about your comic content. I thought that with Mr. Wiltonstein's reputation, the first volume could still make some money, worth the risk. But our company's sales strategy is like this; if we made an exception for you, we wouldn't be able to negotiate with the comic artists later. I never expected you to directly buy Richard Publishing Company and then snatch the Georgia State Post, which we had been eyeing for a long time.”

Li Mochen responded calmly: “But I guess Mr. Mortedor never intended to sell his shares to you, did he?”