There are many listed companies and stocks in the Gephra financial market. Although electronic displays are now in use, there isn’t enough space to show all stocks unless the exchange is completely renovated.

But how could the exchange be so easily renovated?

Any pause in trading would cause major inconvenience—or even disaster—for Gephra’s financial system. So, the current bulletin boards are still flip-style.

They use hexagonal rotating prisms, each of the six faces displaying different stocks and prices. Just a few of these are enough to display all the stocks within a limited space.

The board refreshes every 30 seconds. At most, in under three minutes, the latest price for each stock appears.

This interval isn’t fixed—when trading volume is high, the rotation speed increases. Prices can also be checked in real-time via phone or other methods.

While one of Richard’s men was drinking water, he happened to notice a slight dip in Harmony Capital’s price. He quickly took a few gulps and walked to the trading desk.

“What’s going on? Why did the price drop?” His tone was puzzled, though not urgent. It had only fallen ten cents—still within acceptable limits.

The trader picked up the phone to inquire, nodding repeatedly before hanging up. “There was some selling just now, caused a brief fluctuation. The next update will show the price has already bounced back.”

Richard’s man let out a sigh of relief, took out a pack of cigarettes and placed it on the table, giving the trader a pat on the arm. “If there’s any movement, make sure you let me know. My heart can’t take this kind of excitement.”

The trader quickly moved the cigarettes to a corner of the table and nodded. “Don’t worry, I know what to do.”

Richard’s man didn’t leave until the market closed that evening, taking the day’s data with him.

On the way back, his brows gradually furrowed.

When he returned to the villa, Richard immediately noticed something was off.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asked, frowning as his subordinate nearly knocked over a vase.

Emotions are contagious. When someone comes to you with a serious face, your own expression naturally shifts in response—just as smiles evoke smiles.

Richard’s subordinate rarely looked this unsettled, which made Richard uneasy.

“What?” the man replied blankly at first, then caught himself. “Oh… I was just reviewing today’s transaction records…”

Richard’s frown deepened. “What happened in the market today?”

The man walked over and handed him the documents. “High turnover. Each sale wasn’t big, barely affecting the stock price. But… the total volume was massive.”

“Six million shares!” Richard’s voice cracked.

That meant Harmony Capital’s total volume for the day exceeded 42 million shares—highly abnormal.

Such volume would usually cause obvious price movement. For example, if selling pressure was too great, it could trigger panic among retail investors, prompting them to sell at lower prices and causing the stock to plunge—followed by a rebound once the panic sellers exited.

Alternatively, if someone was aggressively buying, ignoring price, just swallowing every sale offer, prices would climb despite the volume.

Both scenarios are normal—signs of institutional players moving in and out. This kind of activity is healthy for a free market.

Buying and selling is essential to a thriving market. Forcing prices up or down only causes harm.

But something didn’t add up. Despite the heavy turnover, the price barely moved. This suggested someone was carefully unloading shares while keeping the price stable.

In other words, they weren’t dumping large blocks all at once—instead, they sold slowly, in small batches of thousands or tens of thousands.

If the price moved too much, they’d stop, wait, and resume when the price normalized.

They were offloading a huge volume without drawing attention.

This wasn’t easy. It required multiple trading desks and a coordinated team of traders. They might even be trading with themselves to maintain price stability.

Richard paced a few steps, rereading the materials, then finally went to the bar and poured himself a drink.

“Something’s wrong. You hear me? This isn’t right!” He stared at the documents. The stock had even closed three cents higher than it opened—but none of it felt right.

Uneasy, he said, “Bring me the full trading records for the entire week!”

Someone was quietly dumping shares. Could it be Lynch?

He couldn’t ignore the possibility. Lynch claimed he brought in a hundred million. Whether that figure was exact or not, it was definitely a large amount.

If Lynch had already begun offloading shares at the right moment, it could seriously sabotage Richard’s entire plan.

He forced a calm expression and reassured his subordinate, then returned to his study.

After sitting quietly for a while, he picked up the phone. Once connected, he asked, “Where has Lynch been these past few days? Has anyone visited him?”

To coordinate multiple desks, Lynch would need a full team of traders. This kind of precise operation couldn’t be done by one or two people. It required extensive coordination.

More importantly, these traders and seats would have to be under Lynch’s full control—at least during this period—to avoid any outside interference.

In other words, he must’ve met with some influential figures in the local financial scene. Deals involving tens or hundreds of millions aren’t settled over the phone. There would be paperwork, liability waivers, and face-to-face negotiations.

If Lynch was offloading shares, he must have met someone.

As the person on the other end spoke, Richard’s face didn’t relax. In fact, it grew even more serious.

“Are you sure?”

“……”

“I see.”

After ending the final call, Richard hung up the phone. The private investigator he had hired told him that over the past few days, Lynch had done nothing but attend aristocratic gatherings.

The investigator was confident in this—unless the person Richard was looking for was one of those aristocrats. But that was clearly impossible.

Aristocrats lacked the discipline of Heyan businessmen. They made decisions, but left the details to others. Richard had come to understand this deeply during his time here.

But the more it seemed unrelated to Lynch, the more convinced Richard became that Lynch was behind it.

It had to be Lynch!

After much hesitation, Richard decided not to alert Lynch for now. He opened a drawer and inside was a handgun.

Saturday passed uneventfully. Nothing happened, which allowed some tightly wound nerves to relax. But on Sunday, a small rumor began to unsettle that calm.

Serious Flaws in Harmony Capital’s Business Model

The report appeared in a third-rate paper, The Pleasure Daily, known primarily for sleazy gossip and sex-related content.

Most people’s first reaction upon seeing it was that the paper had lost its mind.

To publish such a blatant rumor without fear of a lawsuit? Everyone knew the Empire’s top officials had approved Harmony Capital’s listing—meaning there were no problems with it.

If there were, it wouldn’t have been allowed to go public. Now The Pleasure Daily was putting this on the front page—wasn’t that essentially accusing the Empire’s review process of being flawed?

The article lacked any concrete evidence. It felt more like… a probe before an all-out assault.

While many dismissed it as either a wild joke or an attempt by the paper to rebrand itself, others could already sense the storm coming—the increased moisture in the air, the damp scent of dust before the rain.

There was no time to wait.

Richard began preparing to leave immediately while also deciding to hold off and see Lynch.

Even though the article had no proof, Richard could feel the venomous snake about to strike from the darkness—it was coming, fast and deadly. He could feel it.

After a heavy silence, the phone was answered. A voice came through the receiver: “It’s me…”

Lynch’s voice was distinct. Richard instantly recognized it.

“It’s me, boss. Can we meet in person?”

“Sorry, Richard. I’m a bit tied up right now. Maybe tomorrow or the day after.”

Richard had hoped to meet tonight. He had a lot he wanted to say. But clearly, the call was unexpected—maybe Lynch really was busy.

After hesitating for a moment, Richard sighed. “Alright. Do you have time tomorrow morning?”

Lynch replied quickly, “Of course. Ten o’clock. Pick a place.”

“How about the café across from the Royal Exchange?”

“That works. Anything else?”

“No. Sorry to bother you,” Richard said, then hung up.

He sat down in his chair, legs apart, hunched forward, hands rubbing together between his knees, staring at the floor.

In less than a day, he would know for sure whether this was all coincidence—or if Lynch had made his move.

He was nervous. If it really was Lynch, he might not be able to handle it.

Sometimes he felt like he had what it took to challenge Lynch. But when he stood face-to-face with the man, he realized—he still wasn’t qualified.