Chapter 309 - I went to Piccadilly

Early the next morning, sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows into the spacious conference hall of the main building.

More than thirty invited top international scholars sat around a long mahogany conference table.

In front of them were steaming hot coffee, exquisite pastries, and thick stacks of document files sealed with red wax.

Around the conference hall stood a dozen solemn security personnel.

These were elites personally selected by Timmy, head of the Intelligence Department. Their gazes intently watched every entrance and exit, making the atmosphere in the conference hall tinged with a faint, imperceptible oppression amidst the comfort.

The door directly ahead of the conference room was pushed open.

Edward Frost, Secretary-General of the Executive Committee, tucked a briefcase under his arm and walked to the head of the long table. He pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose and bowed slightly to the scholars present.

"Good morning, gentlemen. The boss has an important meeting to attend in Washington this morning and cannot come in person to greet you all. Please forgive him."

Frost's voice was clear and professional.

"Recently, we received more than 14,700 research applications from all over the world. After preliminary screening by our foundation's internal staff, we eliminated those obvious scams, perpetual motion fantasies, and theological treatises. Now placed before you are the 600 highly potential research materials finally selected, covering multiple fields such as physics, chemistry, medicine, and mechanical engineering."

Dr. Koch glanced at the mountain of file bags in front of him and couldn't help speaking up.

"Mr. Frost, carefully reviewing 600 manuscripts in a month is a huge workload. Can we take these materials back to our respective villas, or back to Europe for careful study?"

Hearing this, Frost showed no surprise at all. He opened his briefcase, took out a stack of printed legal documents, and had them distributed to every scholar present.

"Before you open those waxed files, we need to go through the necessary legal procedures first."

Frost pressed his hands on the table, his gaze sweeping across the room.

"Before you is the "Highest Level Confidentiality Agreement" drafted by the Legal Department of the Argyle Science and Peace Foundation. You must sign your names on this before you can access those research materials."

Professor Armand Lefebvre of France picked up the document, scanned it quickly, and immediately frowned.

"Sorry... Mr. Frost. We are scholars, not business spies! The terms in this agreement are simply harsh to the extreme. It is not allowed to take any materials out of this villa area, nor to disclose any information about the candidates' research directions to the outside world. What's even more outrageous is that you even require that all our outgoing letters during the evaluation period must be reviewed by you?"

Professor Armand slammed the document onto the table, his tone tinged with the anger of being offended.

"Scientific research should be open and transparent. If all knowledge is locked up in this courtyard, what kind of scientific progress can this be called?"

The other scholars in the conference room also began to whisper, obviously dissatisfied with this practice of guarding against them like prisoners.

Facing the scholars' questioning, Frost was not flustered at all. He was used to dealing with all kinds of arrogant people.

"Professor Armand, your academic ideals are admirable. But in America, according to the rules of the Argyle Family, unpublished technology is capital, and the supreme principle of capital is confidentiality."

Frost straightened up, his voice turning cold and hard.

"These 600 materials not only contain published inventions, but also unpublished ones. They might even hide blueprints that can change the way electricity is transmitted, or chemical formulas that can drastically reduce steelmaking costs, or perhaps some new medicine capable of curing fatal diseases. Once this wisdom is leaked in advance to those industrial oligarchs in Europe, they will immediately apply for patents and use them to frantically rake in wealth."

Frost pointed at those file bags.

"Gentlemen, you are not only judges, but also guardians of these fruits of wisdom. The Argyle Foundation offers 50,000 US dollars to reward these inventors, and naturally has the responsibility to protect their hard work from being plagiarized. Once the evaluation results are announced, the award-winning research achievements will naturally be made public to the whole world. But until then, in this courtyard there is no academic freedom, only absolute trade secrets."

The conference room quieted down. After all, none of the people present were fools.

Although the scholars were aloof, they were not stupid.

They were very clear that what Frost said was true.

In this era when patent law had just emerged and industrial spies were ubiquitous, any slight technological leakage meant losses of millions or even tens of millions of dollars.

"Of course."

Seeing that the timing was about right, Frost softened his tone again.

"If any gentleman present feels that this agreement violates your academic conscience, you may leave at any time. The ten thousand US dollars allowance received previously does not need to be refunded; consider it as the round-trip ticket and compensation for lost work paid to you by the Argyle Family."

Leave?

How could they leave.

Having taken ten thousand US dollars, if they just walked away now, not only would they offend this fabulously wealthy financial oligarch, but they would also miss the opportunity to witness firsthand top-tier research sufficient to change the world.

The key was that their reputation in the scientific community would also turn bad.

Dr. Koch was the first to pick up the dip pen and sign his name on the agreement.

"Mr. Frost is right. Protecting the interests of the inventors is also the duty of the judges."

With someone taking the lead, the other scholars also took up their pens and signed the confidentiality contract.

Looking at the collected agreements, Frost nodded with satisfaction.

"Thank you for your cooperation. Now, everyone can open those files. If you have any needs, the servants and assistants here are at your service at any time."

Frost led the security personnel and withdrew from the conference room.

Dr. Koch casually grabbed the top file and tore open the red wax. This manuscript was mailed from Tokyo, Japan, and the author was a geology professor named Takahashi.

Koch originally held little hope for research from Asia, but when he carefully read Takahashi's preliminary model on the fault movement of the Pacific Ocean plate and earthquake wave prediction, his expression changed.

This kind of geological model based on a large amount of field survey could never be thought of by those European scholars who sat in their studies doing theoretical deductions all day long.

At the other end of the conference table, Professor Armand opened a manuscript mailed from the Graz University of Technology in Austria.

The author's name was Nikola Tesla.

The manuscript was filled with extremely complex coils and magnetic field force analysis diagrams. It was a conception about "multiphase Alternating Current and Rotating Magnetic Field".

"This... this is simply madness!"

Professor Armand looked at those formulas and still drew a sharp breath, contributing to future global warming.

Although Armand was complaining in his mouth, his intuition as a top physicist told him that if these mathematical deductions could be realized on physical machines, then all DC generators in the world today would become backward things!

The scholars in the conference room who were previously complaining about the confidentiality agreement fell into silence at this moment.

There was only the rustling sound of paper turning, and the occasional unbelievable exclamations.

They also finally understood that Europe was not the only place capable of giving birth to geniuses.

Among these 600 manuscripts from all over the world, there might truly be a terrifying power hidden within them sufficient to subvert the technological hegemony of the Old World for a hundred years.

But all these powers were now locked up in these dozens of wooden houses built by Felix.

London, Piccadilly.

Headquarters of the Royal Society of the British Empire.

London in May had just entered a comfortable season, and the mist over the River Thames was much lighter than in winter.

But in the oak conference room on the second floor of the Royal Society, the atmosphere was even colder than midwinter.

Sitting around the long conference table were the president of the Royal Society, several senior fellows, and a few invited peers from the British House of lords.

Sir Edwin Hastings sat in the main seat, his face pale and his eye sockets deeply sunken, obviously having not slept well for several consecutive days.

At this moment, he was tightly grasping a summary list of departing personnel just provided by the British Empire Immigration and Emigration Department.

"Sorry, Gentlemen, the situation is even worse than we expected... ten times worse."

Sir Edwin's voice was hoarse, carrying poorly concealed panic, and he even slammed the list fiercely onto the tabletop.

"Look at this list! Over the past month and a half, what on earth have we, the British Empire, and the entire European continent lost!"

lord Winston Cavendish, sitting to his left, took the list and scanned it quickly.

Cavendish was not only the strategic advisor of the Royal Society, but also an extremely influential behind-the-scenes promoter in British politics.

"Arthur Penhaligon. Dr. Charles of Cambridge University. Chief mechanical engineer of the University of Glasgow. And the physicist from Munich, the chemical researcher from Paris..."

The more lord Cavendish read, the tighter his brows furrowed.

This list densely listed nearly one hundred and twenty names.

Behind each name lay the backbone of a certain academic field in Europe or a young genius with immense potential.

"This is simply a blatant robbery!"

An old fellow angrily pounded on the tabletop.

"What on earth did that American named Argyle promise these people? Not only our society's backbone, but even those laboratory assistants in the universities ran off with them."

"Promise? No, he used dollars. Dollars that were perhaps even more effective than promises."

Sir Edwin closed his eyes.

"Perhaps that fifty-thousand-dollar prize was just bait, and the real purpose was to trick people over. Our insider in New York has sent back exact news."

Sir Edwin opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"The Argyle Family has built an extremely large-scale university in upstate New York. They have also ordered top-notch experimental equipment from Germany and Vienna. Furthermore, they have promised all scholars arriving in New York that as long as they are willing to stay to teach or conduct research, not only will their salaries be several times that of Europe, but their research funding will be as well!"

A gasp sounded in the conference room.

Several times the salary and research funding.

In this era when various European countries were cutting education budgets for war reparations and military expenditures, such conditions were an irresistible temptation for any scholar eager to make achievements in the scientific field.

"They are sucking the blood of Europe."

lord Cavendish put down the list, his expression turning solemn.

As a politician, he looked at problems far more deeply and distantly than these simple scholars.

"Gentlemen, we must recognize a reality. The United States of America may no longer be that agricultural country that only grew cotton in the South and panned for gold in the West."

lord Cavendish stood up and walked over to the world map hanging on the wall.

"They possess the geographical barrier of two oceans, and their homeland is free from the threat of war. They also possess huge coal, iron ore, and oil resources. The Argyle Family has already forcibly integrated some heavy industries with capital. Now, the only thing they lack are the brains capable of transforming these resources into advanced technology."

"Of course, by now they are already ahead of us in some technical aspects. For example, electricity and that telephone, as well as in the medical field."

The lord turned around, looking at the scholars beside the conference table.

"If this batch of Europe's top scientists is allowed to stay in America and enter the laboratories of Argyle University, Gentlemen, do you know what this means?"

lord Cavendish suddenly raised his volume, his voice sounding like a ringing alarm bell.

"It means that in five or ten years, the British Empire's ironclads may no longer be the most advanced in the world. Our steam engines will be eliminated, and the chemical industry will be crushed! When the Argyle Family applies the latest technologies born in the laboratories to factories and military production lines, the British Empire's global hegemony will face a real crisis!"

These words shattered the fog in the hearts of the conservative scholars.

They originally thought this was just a financial farce in the academic world, but now they realized it was a strategic war concerning the national destiny of the British Empire.

"Then it cannot go on like this!"

Sir Edwin stood up abruptly, determination showing in his eyes.

"We must stop this brain drain. We must pressure the government and demand that they step in to intervene!"

"How to intervene? Confiscate those scholars' passports? Is the situation really that serious? You must know that the families of those scholars are still left here."

"And the British Empire is a supposedly free country; we have no legal basis to prevent citizens from leaving the country."

"Then solve it from the source!"

Sir Edwin said through gritted teeth.

"We must go find His Excellency the Prime Minister and let Whitehall issue a formal diplomatic protest to Washington. Demand that the American government immediately stop the vicious behavior of the Argyle Family in disrupting the balance of international science and technology, and demand that the British Empire's scholars be sent back!"

lord Cavendish looked at Sir Edwin, who was so excited that he had somewhat lost his reason. Although he felt this proposal was somewhat absurd, under the current helpless situation, this seemed to be the only struggle they could make.

"Very well, then I will arrange it."

lord Cavendish nodded.

"Regarding the future of the empire, I suppose His Excellency the Prime Minister can no longer pretend not to hear. Sir Edwin, tidy up your rhetoric, and we will go to Downing Street Number Ten this afternoon."

An absurd protest initiated by the academic world, attempting to use political power to counter the torrent of capital, thus took shape in the conference room of the Royal Society.

They still placed superstitious faith in the British Empire's gunboats and diplomatic pressure, yet forgot that the man manipulating all of this across the ocean could strike down even the financial giants they took pride in, so how could he possibly care about a flimsy piece of diplomatic protest.

In the afternoon, inside the Prime Minister's office at Downing Street.

Prime Minister Gladstone sat behind that large mahogany desk.

This British politician, known for his shrewdness and pragmatism, was currently supporting his forehead with a hand, looking at Sir Edwin and lord Cavendish standing opposite the desk, his eyes filled with undisguised speechlessness and irritation.

On the desk lay a dozen-page "Memorandum of Protest Demanding the Cessation of America's Unjust Talent Plundering" just submitted by the Royal Society.

"So, Sir Edwin."

Prime Minister Gladstone put down the hand massaging his temples, took a deep breath, and tried to make his tone sound a bit calmer.

"You burst into my office aggressively today just to have me draft a diplomatic note and send it to the United States government in Washington? And the content of the protest is still about an American capitalist using his own money to establish a scientific award, offering high salaries to hire scholars from all over Europe, including those of our British Empire who went there voluntarily?"

Prime Minister Gladstone's tone grew increasingly sarcastic.

"And you also demand that I order the United States government to forcibly escort those scholars onto ships and deport them back to London?"

Sir Edwin was angered by the Prime Minister's attitude.

"Your Excellency the Prime Minister! Please do not treat this as a simple employment issue. This is the plunder of strategic resources, as lord Cavendish has already analyzed. If the Argyle Family is allowed to harvest Europe's wisdom, the British Empire's technological advantage may vanish completely within ten years!"

"Whoa~ I thoroughly agree with lord Cavendish's strategic vision."

Prime Minister Gladstone coldly interrupted him, shifting his gaze to Cavendish.

"But my lord, you are also in politics. Do you not know how absurd the request you have put forward is in international diplomacy?"

Gladstone suddenly stood up and looked at the two of them.

"The British Empire is indeed very powerful, and its fleets can blockade the ports of any backward country in the world. But! The United States of America is neither an indigenous tribe in Africa nor the cowardly court of the Qing Empire!"

The Prime Minister's voice echoed in the office, mercilessly shattering the fantasies of these old nobles.

"America fought a brutal Civil War just a few years ago and possesses millions of battle-hardened veterans. Their steel production is growing exponentially. With what reason do you expect me to threaten them? Tell Washington that if they don't shut down that damn foundation, the British Empire will declare war on you?"

Sir Edwin was struck dumb, unable to speak a word.

lord Cavendish frowned, attempting to ease the atmosphere.

"Your Excellency the Prime Minister, we are not asking for a declaration of war. We only hope that the government can exert sufficient diplomatic pressure to let those politicians in Washington know our extreme dissatisfaction with this matter. Can their United States government just watch a capitalist continue to grow stronger domestically?"

"Politicians in Washington?"

Gladstone suddenly laughed, the laughter filled with sarcasm and helplessness.

"My lord, it seems the Royal Society's intelligence system is too outdated."

Gladstone pulled open a drawer, took out an internal reference document previously sent by the Foreign Office, and threw it to Cavendish.

"Take a good look at this. President Ulysses S. Grant is completely unable to handle affairs due to the sequelae left by that assassination. The one actually controlling the United States government now is Acting President Thomas Clark. And according to reliable intelligence from our ambassador in Washington, this year, Thomas Clark has a ninety percent chance of officially becoming the President of the United States through the elections."

Looking at the two men's shocked expressions, Gladstone pressed on.

"And the only daughter of this Mr. Clark, who is about to become the supreme ruler of America, happens to be the mistress of Felix Argyle and has given birth to a son bearing the Clark surname. Not only that, the Argyle Family is the largest provider of campaign funds and public opinion support for the Republican Party!"

"Now you want me to put pressure on Washington?" Gladstone spread his hands.

"Please~ This is equivalent to me knocking on Acting President Clark's office door and telling him: Hey, control your grandson's father; he shouldn't use his own money to invite scientists to dinner. What kind of reply do you think I would get?"

There was silence inside the office.

Sir Edwin's body swayed slightly; it seemed that the man across the ocean was no longer a mere merchant.

He had already bound capital and the state apparatus together.

On this issue, the British Empire had no diplomatic chips left to play.

It was not to say that the British Empire lacked the strength to make America back down, but in the Prime Minister's view, there was simply no necessity for it.

They were merely scientific researchers; the British Empire had plenty of them.

Besides, those scholars didn't say they weren't coming back. You are in such a hurry to notify another country's government to deport them back without their consent—who knows how those people would view their Prime Minister in their hearts?

There wouldn't be a shred of trust left!

"Then... then can we only watch helplessly as the wisdom of the British Empire drains away?"

Sir Edwin slumped dejectedly back into his chair.

Looking at this old scholar who had dedicated his life to the scientific cause of the British Empire, Gladstone couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy.

As Prime Minister, he naturally understood the damage such a brain drain inflicted on the country; but he was also a realist and knew where the boundaries of politics lay.

"Sir Edwin."

Gladstone walked to his side and gently patted his shoulder.

"The government cannot use coercive means to interfere in the private legal affairs of another sovereign state. This not only violates international law but will also make us a laughingstock internationally."

"Besides, urging talents to return with such impatience will make them feel uncomfortable inside."

The Prime Minister paused, his tone turning profound.

"If you truly want to keep those scholars, relying solely on the fixed salaries and outdated laboratories of the Royal Society will not accomplish it."

lord Cavendish raised his head: "Your Excellency the Prime Minister means?"

Gladstone turned around, cast his gaze toward the distant Buckingham Palace, and lowered his voice deliberately as he spoke.

"We must find the source of the problem; what scholars need is honor and funding. If the government's fiscal budget cannot satisfy them, then you can only seek support at a higher level."

"The Argyle Family can use five million dollars to build a private award. Could the foundation of the British Empire possibly fall short of a nouveau riche in the New World? If you are truly driven to absolute despair, perhaps... you should make a trip to Buckingham Palace and have an audience with Queen Victoria."

"For instance, persuade Her Majesty the Queen to use the royal family's private assets to establish a supreme royal honor on British soil in the name of the royal family, one that can rival that'Science and Peace Prize'. Use the glory of the British monarch to counter the stench of copper from Wall Street. This is perhaps the only card you have left to play."

Sir Edwin and lord Cavendish exchanged a glance, hope reigniting in both of their eyes.

That's right!

Although the political power of the British Empire's royal family was gradually being restricted by Parliament, the enormous private wealth they controlled and their supreme authority in the hearts of the people remained the country's most core totem.

If Her Majesty the Queen were willing to intervene in this smokeless war...

"Thank you for your advice, Your Excellency the Prime Minister."

Inside the carriage, Sir Edwin tightly clutched the walking stick in his hand, looking anxiously at the grey street scene outside the window.

lord Winston Cavendish, sitting opposite him, appeared much calmer, leisurely wiping his monocle with a silk handkerchief.

"Edwin, when we see Her Majesty later, you had better control your emotions."

lord Winston Cavendish put on his spectacles and reminded him.

"You know that Her Majesty does not like listening to those alarmist doomsday theories. At that time, you just need to report the current personnel loss data faced by the Royal Society and the specific amount of that America award to her. Leave the political pressure to me."

"How can I not be excited? Winston!"

Sir Edwin lowered his voice, but still could not hide the anger in his heart.

"Today, three more physics lecturers from Imperial College submitted their resignations. They even paid the breach of contract penalties, using US dollars remitted from New York! The academic cornerstone of the British Empire is being chipped away piece by piece by that bandit named Argyle."

"It is precisely because the matter is serious that we need to maintain absolute calmness, is it not?"

lord Winston Cavendish tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.

"That old fox Gladstone is unwilling to make a fuss over this matter because he is also calculating votes and diplomatic balance. But Her Majesty the Queen is different. She will never tolerate the glory of the British Empire being challenged in any form, even if the other party is an oligarchy waving a checkbook."

The carriage stopped in front of the huge iron-wrought gates of Buckingham Palace.

After strict inspection by the Royal Guards, the two men were guided through a long corridor and arrived at a private reception room decorated with intricate dark red wallpaper.

Fine anthracite coal was burning in the room, and the air was filled with a faint aroma of black tea.

Queen Victoria sat on a carved high-backed chair, holding a tax report on the India colony in her hand.

This monarch, who ruled the largest empire in the world, although somewhat plump in figure, still had deep eyes that exuded awe-inspiring majesty.

"lord Cavendish, Sir Edwin. Please rise."

The Queen put down the report in her hand and picked up the bone world teacup beside her.

"Prime Minister Gladstone just sent someone to give me a message, saying that you hit a wall at Downing Street. What? Are the glass tubes in those laboratories of the Royal Society giving me even more of a headache than the taxation of the Viceroy of India?"

lord Winston Cavendish stepped forward and slightly bowed.

"Your Majesty, we have no intention of disturbing your peace. But if this matter is not stopped immediately, ten years from now, the British Empire might even have to buy the technology for manufacturing the newest glass tubes from America."

The Queen's movements paused slightly, she put the teacup back onto the tray, and her gaze became sharp.

"Be specific, Winston. I do not want to listen to riddles."

Sir Edwin hurriedly stepped forward, took out a personnel turnover list and a translated copy of the New York Tribune notice from his briefcase, and respectfully handed them to the court secretary beside him, for the secretary to present to the Queen.

"Your Majesty. An Irish capitalist named Felix Argyle has just established an institution called the'Science and Peace Foundation' in New York. He has put out a full five million US dollars as principal."

Sir Edwin tried his best to make his voice sound objective.

"He has thrown out bait to scholars all over the world. Five awards, with individual prize money as high as 50,000 US dollars. Even those old European scholars invited to be judges can get a 10,000 US dollar allowance."

Picking up the notice and taking a look, the Queen's brows knitted tightly together.

"50,000 US dollars? Converted into our currency, that is a full 10,000 pounds."

There was a hint of shock in the Queen's voice, but more of it was offended anger.

"An Irish merchant with no foundation actually dares to price a scientific discovery at 10,000 pounds? What does he treat European scholars as? Hired hands in a stable?"

"Your Majesty, this is precisely the most terrifying part."

lord Winston Cavendish interjected at the right time.

"Although scholars are aloof, they need funds to maintain the operation of their laboratories. 10,000 pounds is enough to make the researchers of the Royal Society abandon their loyalty to the Empire. In this one month alone, we have lost nearly 120 young scholars. They are all packing their luggage, preparing to go to Argyle University in New York for inspection."

The Queen's complexion turned extremely ugly.

She had ruled this empire for decades, and deeply knew that the reason why the British Empire could roam the seven seas relied not only on the naval guns of the Royal Navy, but even more on the engineers and scientists in the factories of Birmingham and Manchester who continuously improved steam engines and smelting technologies.

"What did Gladstone say?"

The Queen asked coldly.

"Prime Minister Gladstone believes that the government has no legal basis to restrict citizens from leaving the country. And he is also somewhat wary of the huge influence of the Argyle Family in America's political arena, and is unwilling to trigger diplomatic friction. Therefore, he suggests us—"

lord Winston Cavendish glanced at the Queen.

"Suggesting that we seek help from the royal family."

"Seeking help from the royal family?"

The Queen let out a cold laugh, with not much warmth in that laughter.

She stood up and walked slowly in front of the fireplace for two steps.

"Gladstone's idea is really good. He is unwilling to offend Washington, nor does he want to bear the infamy of technology loss, so he throws this problem to Buckingham Palace. Did he suggest to you that I use the royal family's private treasury to set up a similar award and keep those scholars in London?"

Cold sweat broke out on Sir Edwin's forehead, and he braced himself to reply.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Prime Minister Gladstone believes that only the supreme glory of the British Empire's monarch, coupled with a bonus sufficient to contend, can resist that kind of pure capital temptation. The royal family's prestige is something Americans can never buy."

"Foolish!"

The Queen turned around abruptly, her sharp gaze piercing straight at Sir Edwin, scaring the old academician into taking half a step back involuntarily.

"Sir Edwin is a scholar, I do not blame you. But Winston, you are a politician. Could it be that you are following the Prime Minister in going mad as well?"

The Queen walked to the desk, picked up a thick ledger, and slapped it on the desktop.

"The royal family does indeed have money. But the royal family's money is used to maintain the dignity of the monarchy, pay for court expenses, and conduct necessary charity. That Irish madman threw out five million US dollars, equivalent to one million pounds! He gives out hundreds of thousands of pounds in prizes and allowances every year! You want me to use the royal family's private ledger to fight a war of attrition with an oligarchy who controls railways, steel, and banks?"

The Queen's mind was very clear, and she did not fall for the Prime Minister's flattery tricks at all.

"If I fork out this money today, and tomorrow that Argyle raises the prize to 20,000 pounds, am I supposed to continue raising the stakes? This is a national crisis facing the British Empire; why should Buckingham Palace foot the bill? These politicians in the House of Commons who calculate the royal family's allowances every day now want to come and pick my pocket when they run into trouble?"

lord Winston Cavendish immediately understood the Queen's bottom line.

The Queen was not opposed to setting up awards, she just refused to be the sole scapegoat.

"Your Majesty, calm your anger."

lord Winston Cavendish bowed deeply.

"Prime Minister Gladstone's proposal indeed has some problems. This is not just an academic issue; this concerns the future naval gun range of the Royal Navy and the printing and dyeing technology of textile mills. This should inherently be a responsibility that the national treasury ought to bear."

Looking at lord Winston Cavendish, the anger on the Queen's face subsided slightly.

"Not entirely stupid yet, Winston."

The Queen sat back down on the high-backed chair and picked up the cup of black tea that had already turned somewhat lukewarm.

"That man named Argyle has indeed hit our Achilles' heel. He foresaw that the finances of various European countries are troubled by military expenditures and colonies, and simply have no extra spare money to support those basic science researchers. Yet we indeed need an honor that can stabilize military morale."

The Queen's eyes became deep and resolute.

"The awards can be organized. And it is best to organize them even more grandly and authoritatively than the awards of that upstart in America. But this money must absolutely not be paid by Buckingham Palace alone."

The Queen put down the teacup and turned her head to look at the court secretary standing aside.

"Immediately send someone to Downing Street. Tell Prime Minister Gladstone that I have an important proposal regarding the future of the Empire's industrial sector, and ask him to appear in this reception room within half an hour without fail. If he makes excuses about having a cabinet meeting, tell him the meeting is cancelled."

The secretary immediately received the order and stepped out of the room quickly.

Sir Edwin and lord Winston Cavendish exchanged a glance, both seeing hope in each other's eyes.

As long as Her Majesty the Queen is willing to step forward and forcibly intervene, that old miser Gladstone can forget about keeping the national treasury tightly shut.

Half an hour later, the door to the reception room in Buckingham Palace was pushed open once again.

Prime Minister Gladstone walked in with hurried steps. His hair was a bit messy, and he was holding an unapproved customs budget report in his hand.

Evidently, the Queen's emergency summons had disrupted his schedule.

When he saw lord Cavendish and Sir Edwin sitting on the sofa, Gladstone's brow instantly furrowed into a deep frown.

He just knew it wouldn't be so easy to dodge.

"Your Majesty, I heard from my secretary that you have urgent state affairs to discuss. I wonder if it concerns the defense over in India or the Irish land bill?"

Gladstone bowed in greeting and then asked tentatively.

"Neither, Prime Minister."

Queen Victoria looked at him coldly.

"It is about your little cleverness and the blood that the British Empire is currently losing."

Gladstone knew trouble had arrived.

"Sit down, Gladstone. Let's talk about that so-called Science and Peace Foundation in America." The Queen pointed to the chair opposite her.

Gladstone braced himself and sat down, placing his hands on his knees.

"Your Majesty, I have already explained this matter to lord Cavendish. Legally and diplomatically, the government has..."

"Stop! I don't want to hear those diplomatic niceties. I know what kind of virtues those politicians in Washington have better than you do." The Queen interrupted him.

"Since the government cannot exert pressure diplomatically, then let us solve the problem domestically. Didn't you suggest that the royal family step forward to establish an honor to retain those scholars? I think this proposal is exceptionally good."

Just as a flash of joy crossed Gladstone's eyes, the Queen's next words made him feel uncomfortable.

"But this honor cannot merely be a royal title. You must know that that Irish brought out real gold and silver; if the British Empire only gives a few gold-plated bronze medals, it will only make the whole world laugh at us. Therefore, I have decided to officially establish the 'Royal Industry and Science Award of the British Empire'."

Looking at Gladstone, the Queen's tone allowed for no negotiation.

"This award will also be presented annually, covering five core industrial fields including machinery, chemical engineering, and physics. Each winner, in addition to receiving the honorary lord title personally conferred by me, will also receive a cash prize of five thousand pounds!"

"Five thousand pounds?! A single prize?"

Gladstone sprang up from his chair, completely losing a prime minister's composure. He even disregarded royal etiquette and retorted.

"Your Majesty, this is impossible! Five awards would mean twenty-five thousand pounds. That doesn't even count the operational expenses of the selection committee and the costs of the award ceremony; the Chancellor of the Exchequer will faint on the spot upon hearing this number."

"Shut your mouth first! Sit down!"

The Queen's scepter struck heavily against the precious carpet, producing a dull, heavy sound.

Realizing his unseemly behavior, Gladstone hurriedly sat back down, but his face remained flushed red.

"Your Majesty, please understand the government's difficulties." Gladstone persuaded earnestly.

"The national treasury looks massive, but the ironclad construction plan over at the navy is a bottomless pit. The army's expenses in the colonies are increasing every day. That bunch in Parliament stares deathly closely at every penny of the budget. If we suddenly submit a pure cash reward budget of at least tens of thousands of pounds per year to Parliament, the House of Commons will definitely tear this proposal into pieces!"

"If they dare to tear it, I dare to dissolve Parliament!"

Upon hearing these words, the Queen felt displeased.

"Gladstone, what on earth is going through that skull of yours which only holds ledger books? Is twenty-five thousand pounds a lot? That Argyle alone pulled out five million dollars. With our sluggishness and stinginess, he is buying away the national fortune of the British Empire for the next fifty years!"

The Queen stood up and pointed at lord Cavendish beside her.

"Ask Cavendish. If our Clyde shipyards lose those finest mechanical engineers, if our arsenals lose those chemists who know how to improve Smokeless Powder, are those twenty-five thousand pounds saved enough to buy a cruiser sunk by an ironclad?"

lord Cavendish immediately stood up to add.

"Prime Minister, Her Majesty is right. The Argyle Family is by no means doing charity; they are hoarding technology and elevating their academic reputation. Once they form a technological monopoly, the empire's losses in international trade in the future will be hundreds or even thousands of times twenty-five thousand pounds."

Gladstone rubbed his face with his hands.

As the prime minister, he naturally understood this logic.

But what he faced was an extremely realistic political dilemma.

"Your Majesty, I understand all the reasoning."

Gladstone's voice began to grow somewhat hoarse.

"But financial appropriations must go through Parliament. Those members of Parliament representing the landed aristocracy and traditional merchants only care about next year's ground rent and tariffs, utterly unable to see the technological crisis ten years from now. If I forcefully push this bill through, Disraeli of the opposition party will certainly seize the opportunity to make trouble, accusing the cabinet of squandering taxpayers' money. The cabinet will fall because of this."

"If they are short-sighted, then that is something you, as prime minister, should go and persuade them about!"

The Queen walked up to Gladstone, her gaze carrying immense coercion.

"Listen, William. Half of this money can be borne by the royal family's private treasury. The rest must come from the national finance; this is the bottom line. As for Parliament..."

The Queen sneered, displaying the prowess of a mature politician.

"You tell those members of Parliament that this award not only comes with a prize of five thousand pounds, but any award-winning scholar will be directly conferred a lifelong lord by the royal family. Not only that, I will add a special clause to the bill: any entrepreneur or aristocrat who provides huge sponsorships to this award fund will obtain the qualification for nomination for the Knight Grand Cross of the Royal Order of Highest Honor."

Gladstone and lord Cavendish were stunned at the same time.

"Your Majesty... Do you mean raising funds from the private sector?" Gladstone's eyes lit up.

"Reputation is of zero cost to the royal family."

The corners of the Queen's mouth curled into a shrewd arc.

"Those bankers who have made money in the City of London but have never been able to squeeze into the upper-class core circle, and those factory owners who made their fortunes relying on textile mills but are looked down upon by traditional aristocrats—what they lack most is recognition and honor, isn't it? As long as we dangle the bait of lord and knight titles, do you think those tens of thousands of pounds in prize money will still need to be entirely drawn from the national treasury?"

Gladstone was won over by the Queen's political calculation.

Trading the illusory titles of the royal family for the capitalists' real gold and silver, and then using this money to counter America's prize money offensive.

This not only resolved the issue of the financial budget but also perfectly shut the mouths of the parliamentary opposition.

After all, no member of Parliament would reject a bill that did not increase taxes yet greatly enhanced the international prestige of the British Empire.

"Brilliant move, Your Majesty. I will return to 10 Downing Street right now and immediately summon the cabinet and the Chancellor of the Exchequer to draft the 'Royal Industry and Science Award Bill'."

Gladstone stood up, and this time his bow was filled with heartfelt respect.

"Move quickly, Prime Minister. May is almost here, and that American's award ceremony is right before our eyes. We must raise the flag of the British Empire as soon as possible."

The Queen waved her hand, signaling him to withdraw.

Watching Gladstone's hurried retreating figure, Sir Edwin let out a long breath of stale air.

The aging yet still massive machine of the British Empire was finally activated by the stimulus from across the Atlantic Ocean.

However, the scope of fallout from this "academic capital war" initiated by Felix extended far beyond Buckingham Palace in London.

Compared to the classical and crowded Downing Street in London, the Berlin Chancellor's Office appeared exceptionally spacious and rigid in its lines.

A huge map of Germany hung on the wall.

Otto von Bismarck, the Iron Chancellor who had just forged the various states of Germany into a massive empire with iron and blood, was standing in front of a large oak desk.

Holding his signature long-stemmed pipe, thick grey-white smoke spiraled in mid-air.

On the desk lay scattered intelligence summaries from universities and research institutes all over the country.

"So, is this the report card you handed me over the past half month?"

Bismarck's gaze shifted away from the documents, coldly staring at Lothar, the intelligence adjutant standing opposite him.

"Three senior chemistry researchers at the University of Munich have resigned, and four physics professors at the University of Berlin have applied for 'indefinite leave' from the school. Even a rigid fellow like Dr. William Koch has boarded a passenger ship to New York?"

Lothar was wearing a crisp Prussian military uniform, but fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead.

"Your Excellency the Chancellor, we have done our best to persuade them. But those scholars are extremely stubborn; they presented a draft issued by the Argyle Empire Bank of America. The terms offered over in New York are terrifyingly generous—a single bonus of fifty thousand dollars, which is two hundred thousand marks. This is enough for them to buy a large private estate in America and equip it with a top-tier laboratory."

Lothar swallowed and added.

"Moreover, the Americans are flying the banners of'Science has no borders' and 'For the peace of all mankind'. We can find no legal justification whatsoever to detain them. If we forcibly blockade the ports with military police, it will not only cause riots in the domestic academic community, but also lead the international community to accuse the German Empire of being a barbaric autocratic country."

Bismarck let out a cold snort and tapped his pipe against the ashtray.

"Law and international reputation are forever merely excuses for the weak. If it were wartime, I would have ten thousand ways to send them to a military court. But now it is peacetime, and the Empire needs construction. Without this bunch of nerds tinkering with jars and cans, the steel quality of the Krupp Arsenal cannot be improved, and the research and development of the Smokeless Powder we need will fall into stagnation!"

Bismarck paced back and forth in the office, his military boots making a heavy, muffled sound on the wooden floor.

He knew better than anyone that the German Empire's ability to defeat the once-unconquerable France in the Franco-Prussian War relied on more than just General Moltke's strategy and the soldiers' bravery.

The deeper reason was the advantage quietly accumulated by Germany's educational system and industrial technology over the past few decades.

The range of artillery and the scheduling of railways were both the best proofs of science transforming into combat effectiveness.

Of course, there was a little bit of help from Argyle in there.

Yet now, that plutocrat far away in America actually wanted to use a huge sum of money to poach the foundation of the German Empire.

How could this be allowed!

"A five million dollar fund, Felix Argyle."

Bismarck walked back to the desk, his eyes flashing with the sharpness of meeting an equal match.

"This man is not only a greedy merchant, but also an extremely terrifying strategist. He is using money to fight a smokeless war; what is the reaction over at the British Empire?"

Lothar immediately pulled a telegram out of his portable briefcase.

"Our insider in London just sent back news that Queen Victoria urgently summoned Prime Minister Gladstone yesterday. They seem ready to unite with Parliament to launch a national-level award called the 'Royal Award for Industry and Science', with a prize as high as five thousand pounds accompanied by the honor of a lifelong lord."

"Five thousand pounds plus a lord title?"

A sneer appeared at the corner of Bismarck's mouth.

"Those Englishmen are still as stingy and obsessed with face as ever, wanting to use that illusory aristocratic title to fill the prize gap of over forty thousand dollars. However, this at least shows that those sluggish bureaucrats in London have finally woken up."

Bismarck placed his pipe on the table and picked up his military cap.

"Lothar, prepare the carriage. I am going to have an audience with His Majesty the Emperor. The British Empire has played its hand, and the German Empire must absolutely not be left behind in this talent scramble. We must establish our own award."

Half an hour later, inside the Imperial Study of the Berlin Palace.

Wilhelm I, Emperor of the German Empire, was wearing reading glasses, carefully reviewing the blueprints for the expansion of the naval shipyard.

Although the Franco-Prussian War was won, Germany's power at sea remained weak, which had always weighed heavily on this ambitious emperor.

Seeing Bismarck walk in, the Emperor put down the blueprints and smiled, pointing to the chair opposite.

"Otto, you've come just in time. Look at this expansion blueprint for Kiel Port. Although we have the funding, we lack truly experienced steamship designers. Wanting to catch up with the British Empire's navy is even more difficult than I imagined."

Bismarck did not sit down immediately; he stood at attention, gave a military salute, and cut straight to the point.

"Your Majesty. The construction of the navy is certainly important, but if we do not take action immediately, what the German Empire loses in the future will not just be shipbuilding blueprints, but all the brains capable of drawing those blueprints."

Wilhelm I frowned, the smile on his face fading.

"What has happened? Is it about that American science foundation?" The Emperor had obviously also seen the newspapers of the past few days.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Bismarck placed the compiled list of lost scholars in front of the Emperor.

"Our top chemists and physicists are being wooed in batches by America's capital. If we do not immediately establish a 'National Award' fully funded by the imperial treasury, with extremely high authority and generous prize money to retain them, the industrial gears of Germany will soon stagnate due to a lack of lubricant."

Wilhelm I picked up the list and looked at it, his brows furrowing tightly.

However, instead of expressing a stance immediately like Bismarck, he stood up and walked to the window, appearing somewhat hesitant.

"Otto, I understand your concern. These scholars are extremely important to the Empire." The Emperor turned around, looking at his Iron Chancellor.

"However, if we nationally and high-profilely establish an award specifically designed to counter the Argyle Family, will it anger that American named Felix?"

Bismarck was stunned; he had not expected that the Emperor who had just been crowned at the Palace of Versailles would have misgivings before an American capitalist.

"Your Majesty. He is merely a merchant, and we are the German Empire; why should we worry about angering him?"

"Sigh~ Because he is not only a merchant, but also one of our most important industrial partners."

Wilhelm I walked back to the desk, flipped out two other top-secret contracts, and spread them out on the desktop.

"Have you forgotten? Half of the core rifle production line equipment inside the large arsenal built in the Ruhr Area was provided to us by Vanguard Military Industry under the Argyle Family at an extremely favorable price. Not only that..."

The Emperor pointed to the Kiel Port shipyard blueprint he had just been looking at.

"We are severely lagging behind Britain in the shipbuilding industry. Currently, the only one willing to provide us with a complete set of steam-powered battleship design blueprints and an engineer team is the Atlantic Steam Power Company of America. And this company is also an industry of Felix Argyle."

Sighing, Wilhelm I's tone revealed a politician's helplessness and balance considerations.

"Although he is poaching our people, he is indeed helping us improve the level of our military and shipbuilding industries with real money. If we now declare that we are setting up a national award to slap him in the face, in case he cuts off the cooperation of Vanguard Military Industry and the shipyard, our ongoing naval expansion plan will suffer a blow."

Faced with the Emperor's worries, Bismarck did not back down.

He strode to the desk, his eyes reflecting an iron-and-blood will.

"Your Majesty! You think far too highly of capitalists."

Bismarck stared piercingly at Wilhelm I.

"Your Majesty, please forgive my bluntness. The reason the Argyle Family is willing to provide us with rifle production lines from Vanguard Military Industry, and is even willing to send engineers from the Atlantic Steam Power Company to help at Kiel Port, is definitely not because they have any goodwill or so-called friendship toward the German Empire!"

Bismarck pointed at the contract on the table.

"That is for profit, pure commercial dumping! By bringing out the rifle assembly line to cooperate with us, they not only earned high equipment fees, but they also intend to continuously suck our blood through subsequent parts maintenance. You must know that he didn't bring out the ammunition production line for cooperation; we will have to purchase ammunition from him in the future. And helping us build the shipyard is also to get the fattest piece of meat from the German Empire navy's massive budget."

The chancellor's voice echoed within the Imperial Study.

"This is a completely equal transaction. We paid the marks, and they delivered the goods. Therefore, the Empire does not owe Felix Argyle anything! If he were to tear up the shipbuilding and arms contracts that bring him millions of dollars in profit just because we established an award domestically to retain scientists, then he could not possibly be called America's shrewdest plutocrat!"

Wilhelm I was stunned by Bismarck's rapid-fire argument.

But he had to admit that the Iron Chancellor's insight into the essence of capital was perhaps much deeper than his own as emperor.

"Otto, do you mean that he won't cut off business relations with us over a matter like this?" The emperor still hesitated slightly.

"Absolutely not."

Bismarck nodded with extreme certainty.

"Felix Argyle has great ambitions. If he wants to do business in Europe, he must maintain a good relationship with the newborn German Empire. He wouldn't be foolish enough to offend the country with the most powerful army on the European continent currently just for the sake of a science award. Furthermore..."

Bismarck sneered and played his final trump card.

"Your Majesty, if we don't hold this award, we will become a laughingstock throughout Europe. Because the latest news from the Intelligence Department shows that it is not only the British Empire taking action."

Bismarck took out a slip of paper filled with cryptographic codes from his pocket.

"Emperor Franz Joseph of the Austro-Hungarian Empire has already been discussing with several major nobles in Vienna to establish the 'Habsburg Royal Order of Science'. The Kingdom of Italy also intends to squeeze money out of their pitiful financial budget to set up a national science award."

Bismarck paused, a hint of mockery and alertness in his tone.

"Even France, which has just been defeated and is still desperately scraping together money to pay us war reparations. That Paris government calling itself a republic, that old man Thiers is actually lobbying bankers in Paris everywhere, attempting to set up a 'French Republic Supreme Honor Fund' to retain their researchers. He said that even if they starve, they must keep the clever brains within the country!"

Hearing this, Wilhelm I was moved.

If even defeated and bankrupt France was sparing no expense to build dams and hold back water, and if all European powers were beginning to frantically up the stakes in this talent defense war, then if the German Empire played deaf and dumb out of regard for an American capitalist's face, it would be equivalent to political suicide.

"It seems... the whole Europe has been driven mad by him."

Wilhelm I muttered to himself, his gaze finally turning firm.

"You are right, Otto. Germany's dignity and future must never be subjected to the whims of a capitalist."

The emperor picked up the fountain pen on the table and heavily signed his name on the blank royal decree.

"Go handle it. Immediately allocate special funds from the treasury's war reparations balance. Formally establish the 'German Empire Wilhelm Royal Science Award'. We want to tell those scholars that Germany not only has the most powerful army, but also generous enough treatment for them to explore the truth."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. Germany will surely stand at the pinnacle of the world."

Bismarck gave a military salute and walked out of the Imperial Study with that decree.

This storm whipped up from Manhattan had finally completely swept through every corner of the Old World.

Europe's kings, emperors, and prime ministers had unprecedentedly begun fighting against the ghost on the other side of the ocean in the same battlefield using money and honor.

...

Meanwhile in New York, No. 1 Wall Street.

Inside the top-floor office of the Empire Bank Building, the temperature was comfortable.

Felix was sitting on the sofa, being measured by a specially hired tailor for his formal wear for the upcoming award ceremony in May.

The door was pushed open, and Frost walked in holding a telegram.

"Boss, there is news from Europe."

"Our intelligence networks in London, Berlin, Vienna, and Paris have just sent back a summary report. Regarding the awards and researchers, the upper echelons of all Europe have made a move!"

The tailor tactfully retreated and closed the door.

After adjusting his shirt cuffs, Felix walked over to the desk and poured a glass of red wine.

"Oh? Judging by what you mean, they are preparing to counter?"

There was surprise in Felix's tone, but also a lack of surprise.

"Yes!"

Frost opened the telegram and read.

"Queen Victoria forced the Gladstone cabinet to establish the 'Royal Industrial and Science Award', with a prize of 5,000 pounds plus a lord title. Bismarck also convinced the German Emperor to establish the 'Wilhelm Royal Science Award'. And there's the Austro-Hungarian Empire, France, Italy. The powers of all Europe acted as if they had conspired, frantically launching various national-level science awards and high-paying employment programs within a short week."

Frost looked at Felix, his eyes filled with a nameless emotion.

"Boss, with just a single announcement, you forced the rulers of the entire European continent to raise scientists' compensation. By your own strength alone, you changed the pricing standard of the scientific community worldwide!"

Felix took a sip of red wine, his deep gaze looking out at the bustling New York outside the window.

To be honest, Felix was a bit speechless about this matter.

After all, according to the development of the original world, countries weren't this anxious when the Nobel Prize was established.

But thinking about it immediately, Felix understood.

After all, this is not the early 20th century; back then, countries were engaged in an arms race. Who would have the mood to create awards to retain researchers, especially since Europe's academic atmosphere held the leadership position at that time.

Another thing is that the Nobel Prize was also in Europe.

And now it is the mid-19th century, and the Second Industrial Revolution is just beginning to develop. Although Europe's scientific research and talent education are the best, they have not formed a system that firmly binds their own scientists.

As a plutocrat from the New World, he was preparing to use money to lure various countries' precious scientists to America.

With an already uniquely favorable geographical advantage, if Europe's foundation were to be dug away as well, then I'm afraid the leaders of various European countries wouldn't be able to sleep.

"Edward, do you think what they are doing can stop our footsteps in poaching talent?" Felix asked with a smile and a soft voice.

"I think it can't."

Frost thought for a moment and answered honestly.

"Those bonuses and conditions they offer, although much better than before, still seem shabby compared to your $50,000 single-item prize and Argyle University's uncapped funding. It's like using a piece of black bread to compete with top steak for customers."

"Not necessarily."

Felix placed the wine glass on the tabletop and began to think about how to break the deadlock of this butterfly storm.

"After all, compared to money and fame, most scholars still care more about fame. Now that various countries intend to raise scientists' compensation and establish dedicated awards, perhaps those top scientists from various countries really won't stay in America."

"You mean this time will fail?"

Frost felt a bit hard to accept, after all, in his eyes, the boss seemed never to have failed.

Touching the stubble on his chin, Felix thought for a moment, and his eyes lit up.

"That's not... I just mean that those existing top scientific researchers of various countries won't be recruited, but that's only a small fraction of the top. Edward, you must know that the world is big, and there is plenty of talent. There are always researchers who are unvalued in their own country and geniuses who haven't yet made their mark. Furthermore, those European awards have inherent flaws in my view!"

Looking at Frost, who didn't quite understand, Felix expressed his new perspective from another angle.

"It seems you still don't quite understand? Heh... You must know that various European countries harbor grudges of varying sizes against each other. A large part of their respective national awards will subjectively or objectively carry political factors, thus choosing people from their own country. This dooms their awards to be mere self-amusement within their own borders."

"And my award has nothing to do with any nation. Even because of the New World, it lacks many geographical and political factors. It is awarded entirely based on contributions to the scientific community, so it will naturally be valued much more than those awards."

"Is there any need to say which is more authoritative between a national award and a global award?"

Frost's eyes grew brighter the more he listened. I see! Of course, the global award is more authoritative!

So the boss had already considered it.

As expected, the boss will not fail!

Cough...

Feeling Edward's admiring gaze, Felix rejoiced inwardly.

Good thing, good thing...

Inside the Palace of Westminster in London, members of the House of Commons were arguing endlessly over the financial budget for the "Royal Industrial and Scientific Prize".

Those politicians representing the interests of the landed aristocracy and textile mill owners firmly opposed squeezing a huge sum of twenty-five thousand pounds from the navy's warship budget to hand out to bookworms.

"The Prime Minister's proposal is simply far too idealistic."

Waving his fist, a Conservative Member of Parliament sprayed spittle everywhere.

"That oligarch in America is willing to burn his own money, and that is his freedom. But the treasury of the British Empire is the blood, sweat, and tears of the taxpayers! We cannot disrupt the empire's original financial plan just because of a commercial gimmick from across the ocean!"

Meanwhile, across the channel in Berlin, although Bismarck used iron-fisted methods to force through the preliminary plan for the "William Royal Science Prize", German bureaucrats were still bogged down in internal wrangling over the specific selection mechanism and the distribution of interests between the national academy of sciences and universities.

Time entered mid-April.

The sluggishness and inefficiency of European governments made those native scholars who had still held expectations see the reality clearly.

In a cheap café in the Latin Quarter of Paris.

Several physics researchers from the Sorbonne were sitting around a greasy round table, upon which sat a few cups of bitter black coffee and a tattered copy of "Le Figaro".

"Don't count on those empty promises from President Thiers."

A researcher wearing round-rimmed glasses sneered and tapped the tabletop.

"The government said it was going to establish the highest honorary fund of France, but to this day there isn't even a shadow of a preparatory committee. They can't even scrape together the war reparations to repay the Prussians, with what will they give us bonuses?"

"I heard that New York has already entered a substantive stage."

Another bearded scholar lowered his voice, his eyes filled with a trace of joy.

"The Argyle Foundation released news earlier that they will announce the final list of candidates for each award in advance. For any scholar shortlisted as a candidate, regardless of whether they ultimately win or not, the foundation will reimburse the full first-class ship ticket to America and arrange accommodation in a top-tier hotel in New York."

"Good God, full first-class? That's the most luxurious liner of the White Star Line!"

"Not only that, my mentor's mailing address has already been sent to New York. He said that as long as he can be shortlisted, even if he can't get that fifty thousand dollars, just being able to take a look inside the Argyle University laboratory, which is hailed as the most advanced in the world, will be totally worth it."

Grassroots researchers and young scholars across Europe were eagerly looking forward to it.

That list of candidates about to be sent from across the ocean had become their only hope in this dreary spring day.

However, in that heavily guarded wooden villa area in uptown Manhattan, New York, the more than thirty international judges who held the fates of these scholars in their hands had fallen into chaos at this moment.

The spacious reading room of Villa Number Seven was temporarily converted into a large conference hall.

The long oak table was piled high with manuscripts, papers, and patent certificates like small mountains.

The ashtray was stuffed with cigar butts, and the air was filled with the moldy smell of paper and a strong odor of tobacco.

These thirty-odd academic giants in their respective fields were now arguing so fiercely that their faces turned red, just like a bunch of street thugs fighting over turf.

"Simply absurd! How can you put a chemical plant technician who studies coal tar extraction dyes and a physicist who proposed complete thermodynamic laws into the same candidate pool for comparison?"

Professor Hermann Hendricksen, a senior physicist from the Royal Society, was forcefully slapping an application document on the table, the blue veins on his neck bulging out.

He was the most senior among this group and was elected by everyone as the interim chairman of the judging panel.

Sitting opposite him was Dr. Friedrich Vogel, a chemical authority from Munich University of the German Empire.

Dr. Friedrich Vogel stood up without yielding an inch and counterattacked with a heavy German accent.

"Chairman Hendricksen, please put away that pure physicist's arrogance! That chemical dye called synthetic mauveine directly subverted the entire European textile and dyeing industry. The economic value and jobs it created are ten thousand times more solid than your thermodynamic formulas that can only be written on chalkboards! Mr. Argyle's notice is very clear: reward those discoveries that bring well-being to mankind!"

"Medicine! Medicine is what should be valued most!"

Professor Rossi from the University of Bologna in Italy joined the battle waving the anatomical manuscript in his hand.

"This research on the correlation between wound suppuration infection and microorganisms can save tens of thousands of lives from the surgical table every year! Can your dyes and machines do that?"

The entire conference room completely exploded into chaos.

The physicists looked down upon the copper stench of the chemists, the chemists felt that the medical researchers' work was too limited, while the judges for the literature and peace prizes were squeezed into the corner and couldn't get a word in at all.

Because Felix's initial setup was merely to gather these thirty-odd people and ask them to select candidates for the five awards, without giving specific rules of procedure.

This led to a situation where when a surgeon's paper was brought out for discussion, the physicists and litterateurs couldn't understand it at all and could only cast blind votes based on subjective impressions.

Outside the door, Timmy, head of the Intelligence Department in charge of security and logistics, listened to the fierce quarrel coming from inside and shook his head helplessly.

Edward Frost, secretary-general of the family Executive Committee, walked over holding a pocket watch, his brows knitted tightly.

"Timmy, these old fellows have been arguing inside for a full five days. Apart from producing waste paper and consuming three boxes of top-tier Cuba cigars, they haven't even finalized the candidates for a single award."

Frost looked at the tightly closed door, anxiety leaking through his tone.

"It's already approaching late April. According to the original plan, we must mail the invitations and ship tickets to Europe in early May. If they keep arguing like this, the progress of the entire award ceremony will be dragged down."

"They are scholars, not corporate executive managers."

Timmy leaned against the wall.

"In their minds, there is only the truth of their own field; they don't understand what compromise and efficiency are at all."

Right at this moment, the door of the conference room was violently pulled open.

Professor Hendricksen walked out out of breath, his bow tie twisted to the back of his neck, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Mr. Frost, we can't go on like this!"

The professor took heavy pants.

"Letting a group of people who don't understand chemistry vote to decide the fate of chemists is a desecration of science! We cannot reach a consensus."

Hendricksen looked at Frost and put forward a demand.

"We need to see Mr. Argyle. He is the founder of this fund, so he must give us clearer rules to break the deadlock. Otherwise, this job simply cannot be done."

Frost and Timmy exchanged glances.

"Please wait a moment, professor. I will immediately send a carriage to Wall Street to invite the boss over."

Frost knew that when the academic utopia fell into a dead end, they could only let the dictator of capital use an iron fist to set the rules.

Spring rain washed over the flagstones of Fifth Avenue, and a custom black carriage sped through the curtain of rain, stopping at the central plaza of the villa district after passing through several tight checkpoints.

The carriage door was pulled open, and seeing his boss step out of the carriage, Mark immediately hoisted a huge black umbrella over his head.

Felix strode into the conference room of Villa Number Seven.

As the oak doors were pushed open, the reading room, which had previously been as noisy as a vegetable market, instantly fell silent.

More than thirty academic titans renowned across various European countries stopped arguing one after another and cast their gazes toward the man who had just walked in.

This was their second time closely examining the plutocrat who had begun to stir up global upheavals.

Taking off his rain-soaked coat, Felix casually handed it to a nearby servant. Walking to the very front of the long conference table—a spot originally reserved for Chairman Hendrickson—the old professor very consciously stepped aside.

Felix pressed both hands on the tabletop, his deep gaze sweeping across every face present.

"Gentlemen. I just signed off on the acquisitions of three railways in my office, taking less than two hours."

Felix's tone was plain, yet it exuded an oppressive presence that people could not ignore.

"And Frost tells me that you Gentlemen have been here taking the allowances and cigars I provided for a full five days, yet you can't even produce a list of five people?"

This merciless questioning made several hot-tempered scholars blush, and they were just about to retort.

Chairman Hendrickson stepped forward and raised a hand to stop his colleagues' commotion.

In the eyes of this stubborn, old-fashioned British scholar looking at Felix at this moment, however, there was no longer the initial academic aloofness, but instead a complex respect.

"Mr. Argyle. The reason we were arguing is not because we were slacking off, but because of our extreme prudence toward this honor."

Hendrickson's tone became very solemn.

"Before you arrived, although we had professional differences, inside this room, all of us reached a consensus. That is, we must express our heartfelt respect to you."

Felix raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Respect? I thought what you European scholars looked down upon the most was the stench of copper."

"Perhaps it was like that in the past, but it's different now."

Professor Hendrickson shook his head.

"Although we signed confidentiality agreements to stay here, we have all received urgent telegrams from our relatives, friends, and students in Europe, knowing what has happened across the Atlantic Ocean. Queen Victoria established the Royal Prize, Chancellor Bismarck established the Germany National Prize. Even a bankrupt France is raising scientific research funds."

The old professor's voice was somewhat emotional, and his eyes even turned slightly red.

"For hundreds of years, scientific research has always been regarded as a pastime for nobles or an appendage of industry. Researchers like us always rank last in government budgets. It is you! Mr. Argyle. It is you, with this five-million-dollar incentive, who forcefully compelled those lofty rulers to open the national treasury!"

Dr. Vogel beside him also stood up and nodded forcefully.

"That's right. Regardless of whether your original intention was for commercial monopoly or fame, objectively, you single-handedly made the entire world truly begin to respect and support scientists. For this alone, you have won the respect of everyone present. Therefore, we even more so cannot casually cobble together a list to fool you."

Looking at these solemn old men, Felix felt a slight emotion in his heart, but on the surface, he still maintained his composure.

As for things like fame, as long as the money was thrown in the right place, someone would always find the most noble reason for you.

"Thank you all for your recognition. Since you understand the significance of this award, tell me, what insurmountable obstacle have you encountered?" Felix pulled out a chair and sat down calmly.

Hendrickson pointed to the mountain of materials on the table.

"It's a problem with the evaluation mechanism. You lumped awards from five different fields together. Making a physicist who has studied fluid mechanics his whole life judge a medical report on bacterial culture is simply absurd. Everyone only believes that candidates in their own field are the greatest. Such a vote will never yield a result."

After listening, Felix understood where the crux of the matter lay.

This bunch of scholars had fallen into a dead end of absolute academic fairness.

"Professors, you might be geniuses in the laboratory, but you truly lack efficiency in organizational management." Felix picked up a cigar, and Mark immediately stepped forward to light it for him.

"This is very simple. Since we cannot work behind closed doors, let's use the model of a corporate shareholders' meeting to solve the problem."

Felix exhaled a wisp of blue smoke and set the rules for breaking the deadlock.

"Starting this afternoon, the judging committee will be officially split. The thirty-five judges will be divided according to your respective specialties into five independent professional groups: physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and peace. There are seven people in each group."

"Step one, internal professional review. The physics group only looks at physics materials, and the medical group only looks at medical materials. Inside your respective groups, use the most professional perspective to argue and demonstrate. Each group must select the final five candidates within three days."

The scholars looked at each other and nodded one after another.

This method indeed solved the problem of being clueless across disciplines.

"Step two, general vote. That is, confirmation by the shareholders' meeting." Felix raised two fingers.

"When the lists of the five candidates from the five groups are submitted, a general meeting of all judges will be held. This time, you do not need to judge other people's professional theories. The representatives of each group only need to explain to all the judges the practical contributions and application value of these five people you selected to human society."

"Then, we hold a secret ballot." Felix's gaze became unquestionable.

"The minority submits to the majority. Professional matters are left to the professional groups, but as for who ultimately gets this fifty thousand-dollar prize, it must receive approval from more than half of the entire judging committee. This ensures both professionalism and overall perspective."

Hearing this highly commercially efficient process, Professor Hendrickson's tightly locked brows unfurled.

"A genius management model, Mr. Argyle. Each has their own specialty, followed by overall confirmation. This can indeed avoid meaningless bickering to the greatest extent." The old professor praised.

"Since the mechanism problem is solved, do you Gentlemen have any other excuses to delay my progress?"

Felix bit down on his cigar, leaning his body slightly forward.

Professor Hendrickson bit his lip, seemingly making some kind of determination.

"There is another problem, Mr. Argyle. And it's a fatal problem. If everyone present cannot reach a consensus on this issue, even with the mechanism you just mentioned, we still won't be able to select candidates."

"Speak." Felix was concise and to the point.

"Um... Actually, it's about the time delimitation of research achievements."

Hendrickson took a deep breath and tossed out this difficult problem that gave everyone a headache.

The atmosphere in the conference room became somewhat subtle again because of the question raised by Professor Hendrickson.

Even the several scholars who had been nodding frequently just a moment ago put on stern expressions.

"Time definition? What's hard to understand about that?" Frost interjected from the side.

"Since the award is presented annually, it naturally rewards the scientific breakthroughs achieved by candidates in the past year."

"Mr. Secretary-General, science is not a product on an assembly line in your factory. You cannot calculate output by the day or month."

Dr. Vogel immediately retorted, his tone carrying the stubbornness of a scholar.

Professor Hendrickson turned to Felix and began to explain in detail.

"Mr. Argyle, that is precisely where the problem lies. Between the theoretical proposal of many great scientific discoveries and their ultimate widespread verification and recognition by the academic community, there is often a long passage of time."

The old professor picked up a file on the table, which consisted of preliminarily screened materials.

"Take physics, for example; we have a foundational manuscript on electromagnetic field theory in our hands. This research is extremely great and can be said to have laid the foundation for the future electrical age. But the problem is that this scholar proposed the core concept of this theory fifteen years ago. In the past year, he has not published any earth-shattering new papers."

Hendrickson pointed to another piece of material.

"In contrast, there is a patent report here recently submitted by a young engineer last month. He improved the power storage efficiency of a certain accumulator. This technology is very practical and definitely meets the condition of 'within the past year'. But if you compare it with that master who laid the foundation of electromagnetic fields fifteen years ago, the gap is huge!"

Professor Rossi of Italy chimed in as well.

"The medical field is no exception. A stubborn fellow proposed the concept that thorough disinfection is mandatory before surgery twenty years ago, and he was mocked by everyone at the time. It wasn't until recent years that his theory began to save lives on a large scale. If we strictly follow the standard of 'contributions made in the previous year,' then this still-living and impoverished pioneer will be permanently excluded from the candidate list."

Professor Hendrickson looked at Felix and made a final conclusion.

"Mr. Argyle, we are creating the highest scientific honor in the world. If the awards presented in the inaugural year are given to those who have achieved some minor practical breakthroughs in the most recent year, while turning a blind eye to those still-living masters who laid the foundations of all modern science, the authority of this award will be heavily discounted in the European academic community. People will think of it as merely a short-sighted commercial invention award."

Felix leaned back in his chair, quietly listening to the scholars' statements.

The smoke of the cigar curled between his fingers as he calculated the pros and cons.

The old professor was right.

If an award wants to establish an unshakable totem of authority, the list of winners for its inaugural edition is crucial.

This list must be weighty enough to make scholars worldwide feel heartfelt awe and convinced admiration the moment they see the names.

If the people selected in the inaugural edition are just young engineers who only know how to improve batteries, then the ripples made by throwing five million US dollars around will seem far too cheap.

"Everyone's concerns are very reasonable. It was my oversight regarding the weight of history when drafting the foundation's charter earlier."

Felix was not obstinate; he was extremely autocratic in business, but always very flexible when it came to using rules to maximize benefits.

Stubbing out the half-smoked cigar in the ashtray, Felix gave his final decision.

"In principle, the original intention of establishing the 'Argyle Science and Peace Prize' is to inspire current innovation. Therefore, starting from the second edition, we must strictly enforce the time scale. All candidate achievements must be projects published or having achieved major application breakthroughs within the year preceding the evaluation year."

Hearing the first half of the sentence, the scholars' brows furrowed slightly.

"However!"

Felix changed the subject, his voice rising.

"Given that this is the inaugural edition since the foundation's establishment, carrying the special mission of mapping out the threads for human science, we cannot let those pioneers who laid the foundation for modern civilization go to their graves with regrets."

Looking at the thirty-five judges present, Felix's gaze revealed resolute determination.

"I announce a special exception to cancel the time limit for the inaugural selection! You don't need to fuss over whether a theory was proposed a year ago or twenty years ago. As long as this scholar is currently still alive, and as long as his research achievements have been proven at present to have generated immeasurable and tremendous value for human society, he can be included in the candidate list!"

The conference room fell silent for a second, followed by an outbreak of enthusiastic applause.

"Brilliant! This is truly the breadth of mind that respects science!" Professor Rossi slammed the table excitedly.

"Mr. Argyle, your generosity and wisdom are enough to go down in history!" Dr. Vogel also exclaimed from the bottom of his heart.

This rule change completely untied the shackles binding these judges.

They could finally push those idols who were revered as deities in their respective fields, yet had never received their due material rewards, onto the world's highest podium in a glorious and upright manner.

"Since the rules have been set, I don't want to hear any more excuses for delay."

Felix stood up and put on the coat handed over by a servant.

"Five days, I give you only the final five days. According to the new committee mechanism and the special exception standard for the inaugural edition, by the end of April, I must see the final rosters for five awards, with five candidates for each award, on my desk."

Felix stopped at the door and glanced back.

"Go pick the true kings, Gentlemen. Use their names to crown this era."

Following Felix's departure, the atmosphere in the conference room underwent an earth-shaking change.

There were no more meaningless interdisciplinary arguments.

The thirty-five judges quickly divided into five independent professional groups according to five fields: physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and peace.

Carrying the folders belonging to their respective fields, they returned to the reading rooms of their respective villas.

True high-efficiency operation began.

In the physics group's villa,

Professor Hendrickson was leading several top European physicists, frantically flipping through those aging manuscripts.

"Take away those papers that only involve patching up classical mechanics; what we are looking for now are the foundational founders of electromagnetism and thermodynamics."

Hendrickson quickly screened while puffing on his pipe.

"Chairman, how should we handle this extended application analysis regarding Maxwell's equations?" an assistant asked.

"Is Maxwell himself still alive?"

"Yes, he is in Britain."

"Then why look at extended applications? Write his name directly in the first place on the candidate list. Without his theory, the street lamps on the streets couldn't possibly light up!"

In the chemistry group's room,

Dr. Vogel was fiercely discussing with several other experts.

"Although the periodic table of elements proposed by that Russian Mendeleev has only gradually been verified in recent years, it is definitely a master key to the chemical world. He must be on the list!"

Over at the medical group, progress went the smoothest.

"No need to discuss further. Louis Pasteur's microbial fermentation theory and his vaccine research, along with Joseph Lister's surgical antisepsis. If these two people don't make the shortlist of candidates, we can all resign en masse!" Professor Rossi made the decision without hesitation.

Under clear goals and rigorous professional segregation, those names that truly influenced the course of human history were panned out from the vast sea of archives like gold panning.

In the final days of April, this wooden villa area located in the suburbs of Manhattan became the place with the highest density of intelligence on the entire planet.

Every drop of the pen determined the ownership of fifty thousand US dollars, and even more so, the new coordinates in human scientific history.