Blackstone Code Chapter 750: Intervention

“I heard the Minister of Finance has been troubled lately. A lot of people have been protesting outside his residence?”

The Pri Minister’s sudden question made the assistant, who was sorting through docunts, pause for a mont.

The Pri Minister had never been very involved. Most of the ti, he simply read newspapers, drank coffee or herbal tea, and occasionally represented the Emperor at events in other regions.

He would show up, sit or stand, and deliver a speech on behalf of the Emperor.

That’s how he earned the nickna mascot. He rarely expressed his own opinions—he was more of a decoration, a symbol.

So his unexpected question caught the assistant off guard. But he quickly responded, “Yes, apparently soone even smashed the Finance Minister’s windows with stones.”

“That’s truly terrible,” the Pri Minister said, with what seed like… anger?

The assistant wasn’t sure. He thought he caught a fleeting smile when the Pri Minister lowered his head, but it vanished almost instantly. He couldn’t tell if he imagined it.

The Pri Minister frowned slightly and spoke after a brief pause. “Protests and demonstrations are normal, but violence is not. Notify the police and have them disperse the crowd—and tell them why.”

The assistant hesitated for a few seconds, clearly struggling to follow the Pri Minister’s logic. He needed that ti to process the deeper implications.

When it clicked, he suddenly felt hot. “Wouldn’t this… provoke the protesters?”

His voice was soft, cautious—not to object, but as a supplent.

The Pri Minister looked at him. “Do you think turning a blind eye to irrational protests is the right move?”

“If they can throw stones today, they could fire bullets tomorrow. Do as I say.”

His tone wasn’t loud, but the pressure was imnse. The assistant realized his mistake and imdiately nodded, jogging out the door.

The Pri Minister shook his head as the door slowly closed. His years of silence had dulled not just his own edge, but even his assistant’s sensitivity.

But provoking the protesters—that was exactly his goal. Otherwise, how would the next act of the drama begin?

A few minutes later, the Director of the Imperial Capital Police received a call.

“Hello, I’m calling on behalf of… His Excellency the Pri Minister is deeply concerned about the events of yesterday.”

“Demonstrations should be a peaceful expression of public opinion—not a gateway to violence. Please disperse the crowd quickly and restore order in the capital.”

The police chief remained expressionless. It was just political nonsense. But out of courtesy, he replied, “It’s not that we don’t want to act, it’s just that the crowd is too large—any move could cause chaos.”

“We’ve already deployed officers. There won’t be a repeat.”

The voice on the other end wasn’t satisfied. “You don’t need to explain what you’ve done. What you need to do is disperse them. They no longer fall within the legal definition of a protest—they’re becoming a violent mob.”

“For the safety of the ministers, you must fulfill your duty as police chief. This isn’t a discussion. It’s an order.”

“Unless, of course, you refuse to carry it out?”

The unexpectedly firm tone alerted the police chief—sothing was off. Everyone knew the Pri Minister was just a figurehead.

All policy discussions and decisions were made directly between the Emperor and his ministers. The Pri Minister usually just listened in, rarely offering input, and almost never being heeded.

Now, with the Pri Minister’s office suddenly acting aggressively, the chief realized a storm was brewing.

He stiffened. For a man of his rank, he had no power to resist this level of political maneuvering.

“I understand. I’ll take imdiate action to disperse the crowd outside the Finance Minister’s residence and ensure the safety of our ministers.”

Three minutes later, a wave of orders was issued from the capital’s police headquarters. The Second Police Division was also instructed to assist.

The Gephra Empire had nine police divisions. The First Division handled everyday law enforcent.

The Second Division was the ard police, responsible for suppressing riots. This wasn’t a free country—troublemakers were dealt with swiftly.

The Seventh Division was the secret police, tasked with capturing threats to national security.

Each division had its own responsibilities. Together, they had largely replaced the military on dostic soil.

During the last war, there were even public calls suggesting the army be sidelined in favor of deploying police as soldiers.

Of course, the police weren’t eager to die, so the proposal didn’t gain traction—but it showed just how powerful the police force was, often surpassing the army in dostic authority.

The First and Second Divisions responded quickly, dispatching armored vehicles and ard units to the protest site.

anwhile, the Finance Minister wasn’t cowering at ho like the public assud.

He hadn’t left his house, but he showed no sign of fear. Aside from being irritated that his subordinates weren’t moving fast enough, he was calm.

He didn’t believe the protesters would dare storm a noble’s residence. That was a serious offense in the Empire—life imprisonnt at minimum.

If soone got hurt, it could even lead to a punishnt reserved for nobility—hanging.

Executed in public at Empire Square. For so, that kind of death was almost an honor—but that didn’t an anyone actually wanted to be hanged in front of a crowd.

Years ago, gangs had a saying: “If I die, let it be by hanging,” to show ambition for their criminal career.

The Finance Minister ignored the protesters outside. In fact, he was actively pushing for escalation.

He was racing against ti. Anything that could buy ti, he would do—regardless of dignity.

He wanted to paint himself as a victim to earn public sympathy. If he could get injured, even better. But for now, it wasn’t the right mont to appear.

It’s like when soone punches you and imdiately apologizes—you’re too angry to forgive them. You need to hit back first.

But if they disappear for a few days, and soone else cos to diate, and then they return with an apology—you might accept it. You might even chat.

Right now, people’s money had just been lost due to corruption in the finance departnt. They were furious. Even if the minister knelt and begged, they wouldn’t listen—they’d still curse him out.

But give it ti. Let their anger cool. Then, with an official investigation, plus a tearful, injured minister pleading for forgiveness, the public might just forgive him.

He’d also present so plans—how to deal with the remaining embezzled funds, and what punishnts others involved would face.

For now, showing his face would only make things worse.

As long as he could buy so ti and gain sympathy and support, he’d have more room to solve certain problems.

He would carry out an internal purge, throw a few people under the bus, and the matter would be settled.

He had already arranged etings with so major listed companies. He hoped they would cooperate in pushing the index back up.

The thod was simple: high-frequency trading to maximize turnover and montum, which would drive up the stock prices of these key companies and halt the financial index’s downward trend—then reverse it.

This move would only benefit the listed companies. Rising stock prices would increase the wealth of their shareholders, including the noble families behind them.

Once the situation was under control, he would toss a few unimportant subordinates out as scapegoats, and allow so external forces to step in—like letting the Emperor plant his own trusted aides—as a show of compromise to break the deadlock.

He had plenty of ways to turn things around, step by step.

He had spent an entire day crafting this plan and believed there was nothing wrong with it. All he needed now was to wait quietly for it to unfold.

But just then, the noise outside made him frown. He heard the sound of synchronized footsteps—sothing ordinary civilians couldn’t produce. Another force had stepped in.

He imdiately stood up and walked to the window—and saw ard police.

They carried long-handled weapons resembling sledgehamrs. Except, unlike the typical tal heads of such weapons, these had rubber-coated tal heads.

Painful, but not lethal. Enough to knock soone out, but not crack a skull open.

The police phalanx advanced steadily, while patrol cars behind them broadcast demands for the crowd to disperse imdiately or face legal consequences.

The Finance Minister stared in disbelief. He hadn’t even called the police himself—why were they interfering?

He spun around furiously, stord back to his desk, and grabbed the phone to call the police chief. No one answered.

If he had stayed at the window a mont longer, he would’ve seen—the police chief was in the formation.