America's No. 1 financial conglomerate

At this point in time, with this name, Navy SEALs, they seem to be quite well-off.

When these words appear together in one person, it's hard not to think of that person: the founder of Blackwater International.

"Eric, you must be almost thirty, right? Still not married?"

Ernst casually inquired about more information, just like a gossipy neighborhood committee auntie.

"She's already married."

Ernst immediately beamed, glancing ambiguously in the direction the woman had fled. "So..."

Eric's expression suddenly turned somber, and his mood noticeably somber.

"I love my wife very much, but sadly, she has already gone to heaven to take her place."

Ernst was now completely certain that the other party was the legendary King of Mercenaries.

Because of the information he had seen about Blackwater, the founder Eric's wife was diagnosed with breast cancer in 95, and it was unclear when she passed away.

Moreover, another relative passed away that year—his father.

The deaths of two family members were also the reason he chose to retire from the Marine Corps.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that was the case," Ernst said with regret and apology.

"Be strong, Eric. I think she'd love for you to get back on your feet in heaven."

He raised his beer and clinked glasses with Ernst, downed it in one gulp, and then crushed the can.

"It's okay, I've moved on from my grief."

He gave a bitter laugh. "You probably don't know, but just a year ago, my father also passed away."

He patted the other person on the shoulder; a man's comfort is that simple and unpretentious.

"What's next? What are your plans?"

Ernst began to change the subject, knowing that Blackwater's predecessor would be established on December 6th of this year, barring any unforeseen circumstances.

Now that we have the opportunity, there's no reason not to get involved.

Eric shrugged. "What else can I do but manage the family business?"

This guy is a typical rich kid; compared to him, Ernst is just a pauper.

His family didn't run a car repair shop as many people online later claimed. Their main business was an auto parts company that specialized in producing sun visors for Cadillac.

Don't be fooled by the fact that this thing will be standard equipment on cars in the future, and it may seem low-end. But in 1996, only high-end cars had this feature; it was a mark of prestige.

Their family assets are worth hundreds of millions of dollars, something Ernst can't compare to now.

"I see resentment and dissatisfaction in you; it seems you don't like your current life."

Eric was taken aback, suddenly realizing that the young man in front of him had a bit of a charlatan-like air about him, like a priest in a church giving advice to others.

"I don't understand, how did you figure that out?"

Eric was certain that his emotions and expression had not changed at all just now.

"Because your expression and emotions didn't fluctuate."

The reason was somewhat unexpected; he hadn't anticipated it. Eric looked at Ernst with great interest, finding the man before him quite agreeable and comfortable to be around.

"If you really like it, you should feel joy, your eyes should light up, or at least you should feel that these days are not bad and have a sense of anticipation."

"But you didn't. What I saw was neither sadness nor joy, or rather, numbness, as if your soul had been taken away."

"You don't like this kind of life. Obviously, you miss your previous life, your days in the Navy SEALs."

Eric's eyes suddenly sharpened, staring intently at Ernst. The oppressive aura made the hairs on Ernst's body stand on end. Rowe and Ron, standing nearby, also sensed it and instantly went into protective mode, barking incessantly.

"I sensed killing intent, just for a moment."

The other person quickly relaxed again, waved his hand and said, "Sorry, for a moment I thought you were an assassin."

"Why?" Ernst asked, puzzled.

"Because only an opponent would know so much about your goals. You know, there are many people who wish I would die a horrible death because of the things I've done abroad."

"But I was obviously overthinking it; you couldn't possibly be."

Ernst looked down at his tall figure and wondered to himself, "Am I really that harmless?"

"Maybe I'm a master of disguise?"

"Impossible," he said, a wide smile curving his lips. "Because I remembered."

Facing Ernst's questioning gaze, Eric raised an eyebrow. "The king of breeding in Hollywood, I read today's paper."

"The newspapers say you tormented a girl in bed for three days and three nights, is that true?"

Ernst's eyes widened, and he stomped his feet in anger, cursing, "FXXK, which newspaper is this? I'm going to sue them, sue them until they go bankrupt!"

Eric laughed heartily with satisfaction, and the distance between the two closed considerably.

Facing the sea, girls in pairs would often pass by the two of them, trying to attract their attention.

Ernst was handsome and dashing, while Eric wore a tight-fitting vest, his muscles were fully defined, and he looked incredibly strong and imposing.

How could such a combination not stir up the restless hearts of women?

Unfortunately, these women were ultimately misplaced. Having tasted a sumptuous meal, Ernst was unlikely to return to eating coarse grains.

Eric, however, had all his attention on Ernst, saying, "I've retired, I can't go back."

"Not necessarily, military life is not something that only military personnel can have."

Seeing the light in the other person's eyes, which grew brighter and brighter, Ernst had no idea how this person's brain worked.

Given their family background, shouldn't the normal arrangement be for them to attend some business school, make connections with some big shots, and then take over their family business after graduation to expand and strengthen it?

But this guy was different; he'd loved being a soldier since he was a child.

In a capitalist society, unless one comes from a military family or has a family that wants to develop in this direction, let alone wealthy children like these, even the middle class rarely wants to join the military.

Therefore, many capitalist countries have compulsory military service.

And what about this oddball? After turning 16, instead of learning to drive a car, he took the exams to get pilot's and ship's licenses, always preparing for military service.

He even paid to intern at the White House a few times because of his family connections, which led to a good relationship with the Cowboy family.

This is one of the reasons why Ernst wanted to befriend the other party, in order to expand his network of contacts.

Don't be fooled by John's status as a die-hard Donkey fan; his family also supports Donkey.

But this is America, where the only measure of self-interest is always self-interest.

In America, many people switch between being an elephant and a donkey.

To put it nicely, they share common goals and aspirations, and are like-minded.

In reality, everyone knows that everything is driven by self-interest.

Betrayal is just a matter of not having enough leverage; devotion is just a matter of the right opportunity.

"You mean hiring mercenaries? To be honest, I've thought about that, but new mercenary companies can't get orders without a strong background."

"You don't want me to go to Africa to develop my business, do you? It's impossible to grow and become a big company there."

"Only with government backing can development proceed smoothly."

Ernst could barely contain his smile; the other party was about to take the bait.