Blackstone Code-Chapter 623: The Final Blow

Sweating heavily!

Mr. Herbes, who always cared about his appearance, no longer cared now. He took off his hat and coat, leaving only a vest and a white shirt—his collar even torn open.

Standing outside the customs approval counter, struggling with a severe headache and holding back his anger, he gritted his teeth and asked, “What’s wrong with my paperwork?”

He slapped the stack of documents on the counter, pain written across his face.

His headache had persisted for some time. His personal doctor said it was caused by stress and sudden hypertension. He was taking medication to lower his blood pressure, but it didn’t help much; the pain continued.

His head felt like it was splitting open. Sometimes, he wished he could tear his scalp apart to find the crack in his skull and see what was causing this unbearable pain.

He pressed his lips tightly, trying not to lose control. His anger was close to exploding.

The customs officer behind the counter spoke calmly, “According to the Federation Financial Regulatory Commission, any cash exceeding fifty thousand leaving the port requires their approval.”

Currency is a special kind of cargo, and no country allows it to circulate illegally—it would disrupt markets and financial order.

To maintain stability, all large cash movements in or out of ports must be reported and approved.

The officer’s explanation was standard procedure, not harassment.

However, getting approval from the Financial Regulatory Commission wasn’t easy. Just requesting approval didn’t guarantee immediate permission; the process was complex.

Motives and purposes had to be investigated—why move such a large sum physically instead of using drafts or bills?

Also, proof was needed that the money was legitimately withdrawn from the bank, not from criminal activity.

This investigation could be short or long, depending on whether anyone would vouch for it.

If someone like Mr. Wadrick vouched for it, given his reputation, status, power, and wealth, the review would be quick.

But if no one vouched for it, the process could take days or even a month. The more money involved, the longer the review. And Herbes was short on time—he couldn’t go through this approval process. So he took another route.

His hand trembled uncontrollably as he pulled out a document from the pile and handed it over. “This is my previous customs paperwork. I’m transferring the funds. This complies with Federation laws and customs regulations. You must release the shipment!”

He produced the customs entry document. This was crucial: one hundred billion Valier entered, one hundred billion left. Two complete sets of documents proved the money’s nature and legality. According to Federation law, no approval from the Financial Regulatory Commission was needed—only a filing.

Filing was just a phone call.

Herbes suddenly slammed his temple in pain. His vision darkened. He quickly took a pill from his vest pocket, swallowed it, and after a few seconds, breathed easier.

But when he looked back at the clerk, the man was on the phone, seemingly avoiding him. The young man kept glancing at Herbes, making him uneasy.

Just then, two customs police entered.

At the same time, Herbes’ assistant rushed in—he was not stopped by the police; they weren’t after him.

“Sir, our funds have been seized by the police…”

A ringing filled Herbes’ ears, drowning out all sound except a loud buzzing. He saw his assistant shouting but heard nothing.

He nearly collapsed but was caught by his assistant. The police closed in, one hand already on his gun.

Everything spun and distorted. Herbes soon lost consciousness and fell.

Over an hour later, Herbes stabilized and woke up in bed, an IV drip beside him.

He felt exhausted.

His assistant immediately came close. After calling Herbes’ name, the hospital room door opened. A man clearly a Federation investigator glanced inside, then left.

“What happened?” Herbes rubbed his head. “I don’t remember clearly. Something happened, then I collapsed. What happened?” He slowly looked at his assistant.

Fear lingered on the assistant’s face. He pursed his lips and said quietly, “Customs seized our money.”

Herbes stared blankly at the ceiling, seemingly unaware of the gravity. “Why? What’s their reason?”

“The staff who approved our customs entry is under investigation for corruption. We got caught up in it. The government now considers our money’s entry illegal, so it can’t leave.”

“They mean after the investigation into that staff member is done, they’ll decide if we’re involved in bribery. That will take a few days.”

Herbes laughed bitterly, then suddenly pushed the medical equipment off the bedside table and roared, “A few days? Where am I supposed to get a few days for them to waste?”

A few days?

He couldn’t wait that long.

His rage faded. He lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, tears in his eyes.

Is this your trap, Lynch?

A fatal move, indeed.

But he still had doubts. Although this cut was lethal, he likely wouldn’t fall completely. He’d still have a chance to breathe.

True, the money couldn’t leave now. He couldn’t short-sell to recoup losses. But once the contract ended, he could return the money to Lynch, paying only agreed interest. It wouldn’t kill him entirely.

He would be ruined, but not finished.

If this was truly Lynch’s scheme, he wouldn’t let him off so easily. Were there things he didn’t know, or things yet to happen?

Herbes had given up struggling. His only curiosity was how Lynch would deliver the final blow.

Meanwhile, in the royal capital of Nagaryll, former members of the Nagaryll Youth Party had gathered after days of travel from across the country.

Thanks to the Federation’s fast transportation and railways, cities were closer, and gathering was easy.

Akumari was there too, a provincial leader skilled at driving, poised to play an important role in the liberation effort.

He planned to drive a truck through the palace walls, leading everyone inside to overthrow the corrupt kingdom and its rule.

Though Akumari hesitated, he doubted that violence could truly bring positive change to the lower classes.

He had read some Federation books advocating a view he agreed with: peace and order should not be born of violence.

This idea means new life should not emerge from destruction. If violence creates peace and order, that peace is false.

Take Nagaryll now—was the peace and order born of violence genuine?

No, not necessarily. When a new ruling class gains power through violence, they favor using violence to satisfy their demands.

True peace and order must come through peaceful, orderly means.

Akumari hadn’t yet fully formed his beliefs, and the nation’s chaos needed control. Perhaps this upheaval would help refine his ideas.

At 3 p.m., wearing a helmet, Akumari climbed into the modified emergency truck, aimed at the palace wall, and floored the accelerator.

The modified truck shot out from an alley like a bullet and crashed hard into the palace wall where few people were around.

The weak wall couldn’t withstand a modern industrial vehicle and was quickly breached.

Its designers never imagined this day—a group crashing through the palace wall and storming in.

Thousands of Nagaryll Youth Party members wielding sticks and blades poured through the breach.

Less than half an hour later, all Nagaryll was shaken by one news: 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

The palace was breached; the king killed the queen before taking his own life; nearly all other royals were captured, and the royal family exited Nagaryll’s history.

Meanwhile, a group calling itself the Nagaryll National Congress declared control of the capital and called for provincial governors to drop grudges and start peace talks.

For Nagaryll, an era had ended.