Chapter 315: A $1 Billion Chinese Antique Clearance Sale

"Fine, I'll pass the message on to those who need it," Gareth said. "But William, you can't always use me as your messenger. You should start interacting with some of the high-ranking nobles who have a favorable opinion of you. It could benefit you."

"Heh, here's a laugh for you," William replied sarcastically. "Benefits? None, just a ton of unnecessary trouble. Gareth, do you really think I don't know that the Duke of Devonshire and those nobles around him have their eyes on me?"

"The old fox, Duke Devonshire, is so focused on ensuring his descendants inherit his title and wealth that he not only turned a blind eye to me shorting Davis but also secretly lent money to his son to short Davis as well."

"A fox like him, willing to sell out his own for the sake of his family, is not a good partner."

Gareth sighed helplessly, "I don't believe you don't know why the Duke of Devonshire is doing this. It's all for the family, for the legacy."

Of course, William knew the reason. The Duke was preparing for his own decline, securing a backup plan. With Davis's stock price plummeting, if this had been years ago when the Duke was still in good health, he would have been furious. But now, he was probably hoping for a 90% drop in Davis's stock price so that he could undervalue his shares and pass them on to his heirs at a lower inheritance tax. After all, Davis's stock price would eventually return to its true value. With the stock price now down nearly 40%, his heirs would pay 40% less in taxes—saving them billions of dollars.

So, instead of reprimanding William for targeting Davis, the Duke had tacitly approved, quietly watching as William stirred things up.

"And you're in no position to lecture me," Gareth retorted, "Do you really think you're a saint? To you, we're all just pawns. If you didn't want to use us as a shield, would you have told me about your shorting of Davis?"

William chuckled, "Even if it's mutual exploitation, at least I'll let you drink the soup—a rich, flavorful soup. Making money feels pretty good, doesn't it, Gareth?"

Gareth was silent for a long time before sighing, "Alright, for the sake of money, I believe the others won't hinder you or deliberately oppose you. But we have a simple request: while you're feasting on the meat, consider whether those in the same camp can have a sip of the soup."

"As long as they don't try to devour me whole, there's no problem with sharing the soup. But as the chef, I'll need a 30% processing fee. Otherwise, if I'm putting in all the work without any reward, this business and friendship won't last."

Gareth was silent for a moment before saying, "Wait for my call, but I think it should be fine. Everyone's eager to have you on board, which is a testament to your ability to make money. We need you."

Ha, who doesn't? Anyone who can help people make money is always in demand. But no one does it for free—unless there are other benefits. Otherwise, why not just make the money for yourself?

William squinted his eyes as he waited for Gareth's callback. He understood that it was impossible to remain isolated from those in the same camp forever. But there was no way he'd offer his help for free.

If the Duke of Devonshire and his fellow foxes were willing to give up 30% of the profits, William wouldn't mind cooperating with them on a few deals. After all, it wasn't about giving away money—sharing some of the revenue streams and information he couldn't fully capitalize on would not only keep these people happy but also help him make money. This way, they could coexist peacefully for the time being, while he could also leverage their power for his own purposes. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

As for the future, William didn't expect to remain an outsider forever. But he also knew he was too young. Even if he wanted to get involved in noble affairs, he'd only be considered a junior.

William had no interest in playing the role of a junior or subordinate. These united nobles were, at their core, a group of people trying to preserve their family's glory, status, and privileges.

If you didn't care about the noble system, they were no different from capitalists or landlords. But if you did care, they'd quickly show you how difficult it was to break into the noble circle and how exclusive it was.

Outwardly polite, but inwardly incredibly arrogant, they flaunted their ancestors' glory and achievements while demanding respect and favors. And yet, some people ate up this whole noble act.

Half an hour later, William stopped the boat and took out his fishing gear, idly fishing from the deck. Perhaps because he wasn't really focused, he didn't catch a single fish in an hour. But William wasn't upset—he was just passing the time.

Another half hour later, Gareth finally called back.

"For the most part, we agree to your terms, but we'd like to substitute that 30% profit with something else. You know, the Duke of Devonshire and some other high-ranking nobles are getting old. They want to work with you to ensure their heirs inherit their wealth and titles."

"No problem. I'm looking for returns, and I don't care if it's not cash. So, what are you offering? Just to be clear, unless it's a castle in London, don't bother mentioning any run-down castles or manors. I'm not a junk collector."

"Alright," Gareth said, conceding as he mentally removed several castles he'd intended to use as bargaining chips. "Only an idiot would give you a castle near London."

After a few seconds of silence, with no rebuttal from William, Gareth continued, "I've got some land, vineyards, and artworks. The land is—"

"Unless it's land in Oxford, don't bother," William interrupted. He didn't need to think to know that this land was probably not in prime locations. He had no interest in managing land in remote corners that wouldn't generate much profit.

"As for vineyards, unless they're among the top five wineries, don't even mention them. English vineyards aren't as good as Scottish ones. What would I do with some no-name winery? Take a bath? Let's talk about the artwork—that interests me."

"If you're only interested in artwork, then we can't discuss it over the phone. You should bring some experts to London and see for yourself," Gareth said reluctantly.

"No problem. By the way, what country are these artworks from?"

"Um, well," Gareth hesitated for a while before finally saying, "China."

"All of them?" William asked in surprise.

"Well, most of them," Gareth replied, trying to sound cautious. "If you don't like them, we could arrange a mix of Chinese antiques and Eastern European pieces. How about that?"

"Hah, do you take me for a fool? During a stock market crash, do you know what Chinese antiques are worth? What would I do with Eastern European antiques from those small countries?" 

William feigned anger, though he was secretly thrilled. "Unless you're willing to sell me the Chinese antiques at 70% of their market value as a gamble, you can keep them for yourselves."

"That's not impossible, but I think you might not be able to swallow all the Chinese antiques. The 30% profit you're entitled to is about $92 million, but that might not even cover a tenth of the value of those Chinese antiques."

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