Chapter 310 - Prize

Time slipped away like fine sand in an hourglass amidst the scholars' round-the-clock reading and debates.

Late at night on April 28th.

Inside the first-floor hall of Villa No. 7, the lights were blazing.

Five of the latest Argyle Typewriter units were moved into the hall, and five professionally trained typists were standing by in strict readiness.

Thirty-five international judges gathered together once again, but this time, there were no red-faced arguments; everyone's face bore the exhaustion of prolonged mental labor, yet their eyes gleamed with the exhilaration of having completed a great historical mission.

Professor Hendrikson stood in the center of the hall, holding several handwritten lists just signed by the representatives of each group.

"Gentlemen."

The old professor's voice sounded somewhat hoarse from staying up late consecutively.

"After professional internal review, the lists of five candidates for the four groups of physics, chemistry, medicine, and literature have reached an absolute consensus within their respective groups. There is no objection whatsoever."

The old professor paused for a moment, his gaze turning to the Peace Prize selection committee sitting in the corner.

"The only controversial issue at present is the final candidate quota for the Peace Prize. We now need to conduct a plenary secret ballot in accordance with the rules set by Mr. Argyle."

The Peace Prize was the most prone among all awards to be mixed with subjective emotions and political factors.

The representative of the Peace Prize group, a sociologist from France, stood up holding two files in his hands.

"Everyone, regarding the final candidate quota, serious divergences have emerged within our group. Part of us supports nominating a diplomat who actively ran about during the Franco-Prussian War and facilitated the Red Cross battlefield rescue operations."

The French representative brandished the file in his left hand.

"And another group strongly demands nominating an American. The reason is that he invented a weapon known as the 'Gatling gun'."

As soon as these words were uttered, low gasps instantly echoed through the hall.

"Absurd! How can the Peace Prize be awarded to an engineer who invented a weapon of murder?"

A German judge protested with a frown.

"Please listen to the reasons through, Doctor."

The French representative raised the somewhat outdated photocopy of the patent in his right hand.

"This inventor clearly stated in his submitted explanatory materials that the original intention of inventing this high-rate-of-fire weapon was because he saw the casualties of soldiers in the Civil War were far too severe. He believed that if there was a weapon that could allow one soldier to wield the firepower of a hundred soldiers, then the army wouldn't need to maintain such a huge number of personnel, and the scale and casualties of war would be substantially reduced. This is a... peace concept of using ultimate violence to force humanity to stop war."

This extremely avant-garde logic laden with dark humor plunged many old-school scholars present into deep contemplation.

"This is simply sophistry; weapons are meant for killing people."

"But you cannot deny that when the cost of war becomes too heavy for anyone to bear, peace is forced to arrive. By the way, this Gatling seems to be working at Mr. Argyle's Vanguard Military Industry right now."

Although the debate was brief, it remained fierce.

Professor Hendrikson tapped the table.

"Alright, the reasons have all been clearly stated. We will now begin the secret ballot."

The typists quickly distributed the slips of paper.

A few minutes later, the ballots were collected.

"Eighteen votes to seventeen."

Professor Hendrikson announced the result.

"The diplomat wins. The inventor of the multi-barreled machine gun is unfortunately out."

As the final disputed quota was settled, the list of twenty-five final candidates for the five awards of the inaugural "Argyle Science and Peace Foundation" was provisionally determined!

"Girls, get to work."

Frost gave instructions to the typists.

The crisp sounds of the Typewriter rang out in unison throughout the hall.

Those names written in quill pens on draft paper were extremely neatly typed onto official official-document paper bearing the Argyle Family crest.

When the last sheet of paper was pulled from the Typewriter, the horizon had already taken on a pale whitish hue.

Frost carefully organized these twenty-five meticulously collated files into five categories according to the awards, bound them together, and then cautiously placed them into a black alligator-skin briefcase.

"Gentlemen, you have completed outstanding work."

Frost bowed deeply to all the exhausted judges.

"Over the next few days, please rest well in the villa and taste the finest Bordeaux red wine. I will personally deliver this list to the boss for review. The awards ceremony in May will surely shock the world because of your efforts."

With that, Frost carried the heavy briefcase and, escorted by security personnel, boarded the carriage that had long been waiting outside the door.

In early morning Manhattan, the morning mist had not yet dispersed.

The carriage stopped in front of the Empire Bank Building, and Frost walked briskly all the way into the elevator, heading straight to the top-floor office.

Inside the office, Felix was already sitting behind the desk.

"Boss, it has been finalized."

"Five awards. The detailed background information, research summary, and joint recommendation letter from the committee for the twenty-five final candidates are all here."

Frost took out the files one by one and neatly stacked them on the desk.

Felix put down his coffee cup and leaned forward slightly.

He reached out directly and picked up the topmost stack labeled "Physics".

His slender fingers turned open the first page.

Coming into view was the name of Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell, along with his foundational discourse on electromagnetic field theory.

A satisfied smile curved the corners of Felix's mouth.

Flipping further down, he saw several argument reports regarding the second law of thermodynamics.

He then picked up the files of the chemistry group.

Dmitry Mendeleev, the creator of the periodic table of elements.

Finally, he opened the files of the "Physiology or Medicine" group. The names of Charles Darwin and Louis Pasteur were prominently listed.

"Well done, Edward."

Felix closed all the files and leaned back against the chair, his emotions surging.

This was simply a "List of Conferred Gods" for the second half of the 19th century!

Any of these names, if in the original historical trajectory, might have had to wait decades or even after death to receive the due supreme admiration.

But now, he, Felix Argyle, would use a world-attracting coronation ceremony to present them to the world in advance.

Felix walked over to the huge world map.

"Edward, immediately use all telegraph lines to issue instructions to our personnel stationed in various European countries. Have them bring a thousand-dollar advance payment and full first-class ship tickets to knock on the doors of these twenty-five people."

"Send invitation letters to those Gentlemen still worrying about funding in their laboratories. Tell them that as long as they are willing to set off immediately for New York, ocean liners are ready to set sail for them at any time. At the banquet at the end of May, I want to see all twenty-five of these people sitting at my table without a single one missing!"

Inside the telegraph room of the News Media Company, dozens of Morse telegraph machines emitted a deafening ticking sound simultaneously.

Victor Fowler stood in front of the central master console, holding the list just delivered from the Empire Bank Building in his hand.

Staring at the twenty-five names on the paper, even though he was a veteran who had been rolling around in the media industry for many years, his breathing became somewhat hurried at this moment.

Although he had never heard of most of the people on it, that did not affect his knowledge that these were definitely among the top group of people in human history.

Unfamiliar, but respected...

"Guys, stop all routine news transmissions at hand first."

Victor shouted loudly, his voice drowning out the noise of the telegraph machines.

Hearing the voice, all the telegraph operators immediately stopped their actions and turned their heads to look at him in unison.

"Ahem... Immediately connect to the exclusive line of the Atlantic Ocean submarine cable at full power output."

Victor split the list in his hand into five copies and handed them to the five most skilled foremen respectively.

"Give me this list of candidates and the reasons for their nominations, and send them completely to our capital branches in European countries such as London, Paris, and Berlin. Tell the persons in charge over there to book the front page of all cooperative newspapers. If the layout is not enough, spend double the price to buy the competitors' layout. Before dawn tomorrow, I want these twenty-five names to appear on the dining table of every scholar in Europe."

"Understood, Mr. Fowler!"

The telegraph operators immediately threw themselves into work.

As for the content and such, they didn't care at all.

The copper wire crossing the ocean was fully loaded at this moment, and the powerful current carrying information sufficient to change the history of human science poured crazily toward the Old World.

A few hours later, Fleet Street in London.

Inside the newspaper office under Argyle opposite The Times, Editor-in-Chief George was pacing anxiously in the room.

When the dispatcher handed him the long deciphered paper tape, he grabbed it and his gaze swept across it quickly.

"Oh my god, God..."

After George exclaimed, he immediately had someone call Deputy Editor Adams over.

"Hey~ Adams, take a look at this list for physics and chemistry. God is my witness, the boss has upended the foundation of the European scientific community this time." George pointed to the names on the paper tape.

Adams curiously leaned over to take a look and couldn't help reading aloud.

"Core candidates for the Physics Prize: First, James Prescott Joule. Reason for nomination: Through a series of precise experiments in the 1940s, the mechanical equivalent of heat was determined, providing decisive experimental evidence for the law of conservation of energy."

"There is definitely no problem with this, Mr. Joule well deserves it."

Adams nodded and continued reading down.

"Second, Hermann von Helmholtz. Published 'On the Conservation of Force' in 1847, systematically and completely expounding the law of conservation and transformation of energy for the first time, with foundational contributions to optics, physiology, and electromagnetism. The scientific leader of Germany."

"Third, William Thomson, which is our lord Kelvin. Established the thermodynamic temperature scale, proposing the Kelvin formulation of the second law of thermodynamics. The fourth is Rudolf Clausius of Germany, who introduced the concept of 'entropy'. Put these four people together, they are simply a Mount Olympus of thermodynamics!" George patted the table excitedly.

But Adams's gaze lingered on the fifth name of the Physics Prize, and his brow furrowed tightly.

"Wait, George. The fifth one is... James Clark Maxwell?"

Adams looked up at the editor-in-chief, his tone filled with incredulity.

"The dynamic equations of the electromagnetic field he proposed in 1865 did cause a sensation at the time, but... his electromagnetic wave theory has not been experimentally verified to this day! Even lord Kelvin has publicly questioned his displacement current hypothesis. How could the jury put someone whose theory has not been generally accepted by the academic community into the final candidate list of fifty thousand dollars? Are you sure it's correct?"

"Hey, guy. This precisely proves the vision of the thirty-five international judges." George snatched the paper tape away with dissatisfaction.

"The value of news lies in controversy. Typeset and print these as they are, and let's look at the Chemistry Prize."

The two continued reading down.

"Friedrich Wöhler, artificially synthesized urea, breaking the absolute boundary between organic and inorganic matter, overthrowing 'vitalism'. Justus von Liebig, father of organic chemistry, pioneering agricultural chemistry. Robert Bunsen, inventing the Bunsen burner, pioneering spectroscopic analysis methods. Friedrich Kekulé, proposing the cyclic structure of benzene."

Reading this far, Adams let out a long breath.

"How are they all Germans? The field of chemistry has simply become the back garden of Germans. However, the contributions of these four people are indeed impeccable. What about the fifth one?"

"The fifth one seems to be a Russian, Dmitry Mendeleev."

George read out this name, the corners of his mouth curling into a meaningful smile.

"Mendeleev? That guy who proposed the periodic law of elements in 1869?" Adams expressed doubt once again.

"No... George, his theory is full of loopholes. He even predicted some elements that don't exist at all! This is completely whimsical, and there are hardly a few people in the current chemical community who recognize his periodic table."

"Adams, remember our identity, we are newspapermen, not scientists. The jury dares to nominate him, which shows that his theory has value that ordinary people cannot see. Typeset! Typeset immediately!"

The same shock and debate were also staged in the news branches of Paris and Berlin.

The editor-in-chief of the Paris office was staring at the list for the Physiology or Medicine Prize and the Literature Prize, his hands trembling with excitement.

"Louis Pasteur! The pride of France! The founder of microbiology, inventing pasteurization, conquering silkworm disease, and overthrowing the theory of spontaneous generation. He definitely deserves this fifty thousand dollars!"

An editor nearby was also recording rapidly.

"The Medical Prize also has Schleiden and Schwann of Germany, who founded cell theory. And that Virchow who founded cellular pathology. Joseph Lister of England, who founded surgical antisepsis, reducing surgical mortality from over forty percent to below fifteen percent."

The editor paused for a moment, his eyes wide open.

"Editor-in-chief, there is another candidate from England... Charles Darwin!"

"What? That Darwin of 'On the Origin of Species'?" The editor-in-chief turned his head abruptly.

"Is the jury crazy? I heard that although the scientific community has accepted the concept of co-evolution, the mechanism of natural selection is still being argued about. And that bunch of people in the church will definitely treat this as heresy! Putting him on the list, tomorrow all the bishops in Europe will go smash the jury's windows!"

"This is a huge selling point, editor-in-chief!"

"Oh right! Then bold it heavily! Let's look at the Literature Prize." The editor-in-chief eagerly scanned down.

"First, Victor Hugo. Leader of European romantic literature, 'Les Misérables' spread across Europe. Returning to France after ending exile in 1870, he is the symbol of conscience now." The editor-in-chief waved his fist excitedly.

"The Literature Prize is definitely ours in France! Who are the other candidates?"

"Lev Tolstoy of Russia, who wrote 'War and Peace'. Alfred Tennyson, the Poet Laureate of England. And Gustave Flaubert of France. The fifth is the Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen." The editor reported quickly.

Meanwhile, at the offices in Geneva and Berlin, the list of candidates for the Peace Prize sparked an intense reaction among political journalists.

"Henry Dunant, founder of the Red Cross. Frédéric Passy, advocate of international arbitration. Richard Cobden, the source of free-trade pacifism. Giuseppe Mazzini, promoter of Italian unification. And British Prime Minister William Gladstone."

When these names and achievements were sent to the printing presses, all the journalists knew that after the sun rose tomorrow morning, the peace of Europe would be completely shattered.

The roaring rotary presses, like fire-breathing monsters, finished printing tons of newspapers.

Carriages filled with newspapers drove out of the printing plant in the night, rushing toward the railway stations and newsstands on every street corner.

The morning mist of London had not yet cleared, and the newsboys of Fleet Street had already raised their voices.

"Extra! The list of twenty-five final candidates for the Argyle Science and Peace Prize is announced!"

"lord Kelvin and Joule shortlisted for the Physics Prize! Darwin's selection for the Medical Prize sparks huge controversy!"

"See who can take away fifty thousand dollars? The authoritative jury gives the final answer!"

In a café at Cambridge University, the scholars and professors who had been quietly eating breakfast were now in a chaotic uproar.

A few copies of The Times were thrown on the tables, and no one cared even when coffee spilled out.

"This is simply nonsense!"

An elderly, silver-haired senior member of the Royal Society trembled with anger, pointing at the physics list on the newspaper and roaring loudly.

"Maxwell's set of electromagnetic field equations is nothing more than a pile of baseless mathematical games! His displacement current hypothesis cannot even produce a single experiment! By what right is he put together with Thomson (lord Kelvin) and Joule? What's even more infuriating is that my old buddy Junior Tyndall's research on radiant heat is so solid, yet he didn't even get a nomination?"

The young physics lecturer sitting opposite him did not yield at all.

"Professor, please be rational. The jury is composed of thirty-five top scholars from Europe, representing the highest level of the current academic world. If they believe Maxwell's theory is sufficient to foresee the future, then your narrow empiricism is backward!"

"What do you know! Science requires experimental evidence, not fantasy!"

Meanwhile, in the corridors of Berlin University, the chemistry department's debate was equally white-hot.

"Wöhler synthesized urea artificially, Liebig established the organic chemistry system, Bunsen invented spectral analysis, and Kekulé drew the benzene ring."

A German chemistry professor said proudly to his colleague.

"The nominations of these four people are absolutely correct; this is the glory of our Germany. But what's the deal with that Russian Mendeleev? There are so many blank spaces on his periodic table of elements, it's completely fabricated out of thin air. Can a theory with such a gambling nature actually be shortlisted?"

His colleague pushed up his glasses, his tone calm.

"Old buddy, subjective bias has blinded your eyes. Mendeleev's periodic law is extremely rigorous in logic; he not only arranged the known elements but also predicted the properties of unknown elements. If one day those elements are truly discovered, he will be the prophet of the chemical world. The jury sees farther than we do."

All of the above could be considered minor scenes; the most intense battlefield erupted in the medical salons and religious gatherings of Paris.

When Darwin's name appeared on the candidate list for the Physiology or Medicine Prize, those conservative religious figures were completely enraged.

"Oh ~ lord... They actually nominated a man who claimed that human ancestors were monkeys!"

A bishop waved a newspaper during his sermon and shouted hoarsely.

"This is blasphemy! This is the devil's prize! That American named Argyle should be sent to the stake!"

But supporters in the scientific community immediately launched a counterattack in the newspapers.

"Open your eyes and look, the concept of co-evolution has been accepted by the mainstream scientific community. If Darwin is not put on the list, this prize will become a vassal of religion! The Argyle Foundation has shown the courage to defend the truth!"

Not only Darwin, but the list for the Peace Prize also caused an uproar.

The nobles of Vienna felt extremely dissatisfied with Mazzini's selection.

"Mazzini is a revolutionary! How many violent struggles did he incite? He turned Italy upside down, and such a person actually became a candidate for the Peace Prize? This is simply making a mockery of the word 'peace'!"

To such arguments, scholars from Italy would not just sit idly by and watch.

Thus, they madly counterattacked and bickered in the newspapers.

"Have you Austro-Hungarians done few things in the Balkan Peninsula? Mazzini's ideal is the equality and harmony of all European nations, and national self-determination is the true lasting peace!"

Controversy, quarreling, debate.

National prejudices, sectarian conflicts, and the collision of old and new ideas were infinitely magnified under the catalysis of massive public opinion and huge bonuses.

Friends and relatives of those scholars who failed to be shortlisted published long essays in major newspapers, denouncing the jury for being blind. Meanwhile, supporters of the shortlisted candidates pulled out the list of thirty-five authoritative judges, refuting the doubters completely.

This unprecedented fervor was not only confined within the ivory tower, but also descended into the lives of ordinary citizens at an unprecedented speed.

In a tavern in East London, a few textile factory workers and butchers who had just gotten off work were gathered around an oil-stained newspaper, drinking inferior ale while arguing until their faces were red.

"I tell you, brothers, that doctor named Lister is definitely a saint!" The butcher waved the sharp meat-cutting knife in his hand.

"My cousin twisted off his arm in a machine last month. After being sent to the hospital, the doctor used that what-do-you-call-it mentioned in the newspaper... surgical disinfection. They washed the wound clean. Not only did my cousin survive, but he doesn't even have a fever now! If it were before, six out of ten amputations would die of suppuration. If he takes fifty thousand dollars, I'm convinced!"

"Ha... What is Lister? Look at that Frenchman Pasteur!" A nearby brewer retorted unconvinced.

"The newspaper says that if he hadn't proved that fermentation is caused by microorganisms and invented that heat-sterilization method, half of the wine we drink would turn into sour water! He also saved the entire French silk industry. This is the true saint!"

In the streets and alleys of America, in the factories and farms of Europe.

For the first time, ordinary people intuitively felt that those obscure scientific names in the newspapers actually lived in their wine glasses, in their hospitals, and in the steam engines they operated every day.

"Turns out these scientists are the ones who truly change the world."

This awakened consciousness, under the deliberate guidance of the Argyle Family, quietly took root and sprouted in the hearts of the underlying masses.

They began to heatedly discuss which of these candidates was more remarkable, and even in underground casinos, someone had already opened a betting book to wager on who would finally get that fifty thousand dollars.

And in this society-wide craze, the twenty-five parties involved, swept into the center of the eye of the storm, were facing the most shocking moments of their lives.

Russia, St. Petersburg.

The cold April wind was still howling over the Neva River.

Dmitry Mendeleev was sitting in his cluttered office, frowning as he stared at the imperfect draft of the periodic table on the blackboard.

Many of his peers in the domestic chemistry community still held skeptical attitudes toward his theory, and the shortage of funding forced some of his verification experiments to stall.

"Thump, thump, thump..."

The office door was knocked on politely.

Mendeleev raised his head and saw a foreign man dressed in an expensive black overcoat, with blond hair and blue eyes, standing at the door holding an exquisite leather briefcase with a combination lock.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Mendeleev. I am Charles, the special representative of the Argyle Empire Bank's St. Petersburg office."

The man took off his hat and introduced himself in fluent Russian.

Mendeleev stood up and looked at the other person with some confusion.

"Imperial Bank? I don't remember having an account at your bank, and I don't have any spare rubles to deposit."

Seeing this, Charles smiled slightly, walked up to the desk, and opened the briefcase.

"You don't need to deposit money, sir. I am here to deliver money to you."

Charles took out a gold-stamped envelope wrapped in dark blue velvet, along with a thick stack of documents, from the briefcase and respectfully handed them to Mendeleev.

"This is the official invitation jointly signed by thirty-five top authorities in Europe from the Argyle Science and Peace Prize Selection Committee. Congratulations, Mr. Mendeleev. You have been shortlisted for the final five core candidates for the inaugural Chemistry Prize."

Mendeleev took the envelope in a daze, his fingers trembling slightly.

He had certainly read the newspapers over the past couple of days, but he never expected that the behemoth foundation far away in New York would actually take a fancy to his theory, which was highly controversial even within Russia.

"Is... is this true?"

Mendeleev opened the envelope, and looking at the world-renowned signatures of the judges on it, his breathing grew hurried.

"I can tell you responsibly, yes. The boss instructed that truth needs to be seen by the world."

Charles continued to take out a draft and two tickets bearing the logo of the White Star Line from the briefcase.

"This is a one-thousand-dollar advance payment, as your travel expenses and settlement allowance for heading to America. These two are first-class tickets on an ocean liner departing from the Port of Hamburg next week and heading directly to New York. You may bring a family member or assistant along. In the last week of May, a grand award ceremony will be held in New York. At that time, regardless of whether you ultimately win the prize, all expenses for this journey will be fully covered by the Argyle Family."

Looking at the credentials on the table representing respect and wealth, Mendeleev's eyes actually grew somewhat moist.

This was not just a matter of money.

It was also absolute recognition of his research achievements by the world's highest academic circle!

This meant that his periodic law of elements had finally walked out of this cramped office and stepped onto the world stage!

"I will go. Please tell Mr. Argyle that this is the greatest honor of my life."

Mendeleev tightly shook Charles's hand, his tone filled with excitement.

The same scene was playing out all over Europe.

In France, Louis Pasteur held the invitation and loudly announced to his assistants.

"This is a victory for the science of France! They have seen our efforts to defeat microorganisms. Pack our bags, we are getting ready to go to New York, to tell the whole world what the root cause of disease really is!"

In a country villa in Britain, Charles Darwin sat in a wheelchair, looking at the first-class ticket with a relieved smile on his face.

"The madmen of the church have cursed me for more than a decade. But time has proven that science is not afraid of curses. Although my body may not be able to support this long voyage, I will let my son represent me to go. This is a baptism belonging to the theory of evolution."

And in Germany, when Rudolf Clausius received the invitation, several of his students were even so excited that they opened champagne in the laboratory to celebrate.

The twenty-five candidates, with the exception of a very small number who could not travel in person due to health reasons, all requested extended leave from their respective universities or institutions without hesitation on the day they received the invitation.

For them, this had long been not just about the fifty-thousand-dollar ultimate prize.

Just think about it!

Not only were there top-level laboratories provided by the Argyle Family there, but more importantly, these twenty-five people hailed as the smartest brains in the world today would gather in a single venue at the same time!

This was an unprecedented academic pilgrimage!

Even if they couldn't win the award, being able to discuss mechanics with Hermann von Helmholtz and elements with Mendeleev in such an occasion, and making friends with these peak scholars whom they could never normally see, was an opportunity any scientist dreamed of.

This fanatical emotion not only infected the candidates, but completely detonated the entire academic circle of Europe.

In an academic salon in Paris, several uninvited university professors were discussing excitedly.

"Listen, guys. This is the carnival of the scientific world! The top thirty-five judges in the world, plus the absolute kings of twenty-five fields, they are all going to New York!"

One professor waved the resignation letter in his hand.

"I have already applied to the school for unpaid leave, and I am going to buy my own ticket to America. Even if I can only stand outside and take a glance, I must go and witness this great moment!"

"Professor, have you lost your mind? That ticket will cost half a year's salary!"

"What do you know! Not only are there authorities there, but I heard that Argyle University is going to openly recruit professors after the award ceremony. This is an excellent opportunity for us to jump out of this lifeless quagmire of Europe and go to the New World to get high salaries and do research!"

Not only professors, but countless qualified and ambitious young scholars, engineers, and even fanatical science enthusiasts made the same decision.

London, Hamburg, Marseille, Le Havre.

The ocean liner ticket offices in major European ports were packed to the brim within just a few days.

"What? First-class and second-class tickets to New York are completely sold out?"

A British scholar carrying a suitcase shouted in despair at the ticket counter.

"I'm sorry, sir. Not only this week, but all the way until the end of May, all ocean liners heading to New York have even their third-class bottom-deck berths snatched up."

The ticket seller spread his hands helplessly.

"This is simply crazier than the California Gold Rush back then; everyone seems to be running to America like they've gone mad."

The sound of steamship whistles across the ocean rose and fell one after another.

Giant ships laden with European wisdom, ambition, and frenzy cleaved the waves of the Atlantic Ocean and marched majestically toward the direction of the Statue of Liberty.

This was no longer a simple award ceremony, but a great migration of civilization spanning half the globe, forcefully created by the power of capital.

As the candidates who received invitations and the scientists and scholars traveling at their own expense successively applied for leave to head to New York, the discussion atmosphere throughout Europe became even more heated.

This included the governments of various countries.

In fact, various countries were trying their best to dissuade those candidates and voluntary travelers within their borders.

But unfortunately, it was basically of no use.

These scholars and scientists had a very simple thought: "We are just going to attend an award ceremony, not committing treason or refusing to come back."

"Besides, academia is free and has no national borders."

"The country has no reason to forcefully demand that the likes of us not go; otherwise, that would be a dictatorship."

Therefore, the various countries could only let them go with distress.

"Go on, go ahead..."

"I really don't know what is so good about that Argyle Science and Peace Prize that makes so many scholars and scientists eagerly flock to it."

"It's not like our own country isn't planning to hold awards."

Just as adults fell into a collective frenzy for prize money, honor, and trans-oceanic ship tickets, this wind of science, stirred up by discussions in newspapers and on street corners, quietly blew into those younger and purer souls.

Inside a grammar school in Munich, Germany.

The sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows onto the slightly worn wooden desks.

The class-ending bell had just rung, but the classroom did not erupt into the boys' noisy scuffling as usual.

Several twelve- and thirteen-year-old boys were gathered around a desk, stretching their necks to look at the newspaper on the tabletop that had been thumbed until it was frayed.

"The mechanical equivalent of heat... the law of conservation of energy."

A boy of only fourteen years old named Max Planck.

He had neat short hair, and his eyes were exceptionally focused and bright. Pointing at the reasons for the nominations of Joule and Clausius in the newspaper, he read word by word, as if chanting some sacred scripture.

"The teacher said that thermodynamics is the study of the most fundamental laws of nature. Planck, do you think that concept of 'entropy' proposed by Clausius can really explain the ultimate fate of the universe?" a nearby boy asked curiously.

Planck raised his head, and on that still somewhat childish face, he displayed a rigor and yearning beyond his age.

"I don't know, Hans. But the newspaper says that the Argyle Foundation is willing to pay fifty thousand dollars in prize money for these theories that can't even be seen or touched. This shows that the act of seeking truth itself is the most valuable thing in the world."

Planck carefully folded the newspaper and tucked it into his schoolbag.

He originally had extremely high talent for music and was even considering whether to become a pianist in the future.

But today, when seeing this announcement and seeing those names praised by the whole world for exploring the origin of the physical world, a certain gear deep within his heart was completely triggered.

"I've decided."

Planck looked at the sky outside the window, his voice, though childish, incomparably firm.

"I'm not going to study music anymore; I'm going to study physics. One day, I will also write my name on that list representing the highest wisdom of mankind."

The same thing happened in a distant French village.

Although Marie Skłodowska (later Madame Curie) was just a little girl of over five years old at this time, living in Warsaw under the rule of Tsarist Russia,

her father, a secondary school science teacher, was sitting beside a crude dining table, excitedly telling his children about the content in the newspaper by the dim light of a kerosene lamp.

"Listen, children. This is the power of science."

The father pointed at Mendeleev's name on the newspaper.

"No matter how poor a country you are born in, no matter how great the oppression you face, as long as you can discover the laws of nature, just like this Russian chemist, the doors of the entire world will open for you. Even the wealthiest banker across the ocean will take off his hat and salute you."

Although little Marie did not quite understand those complex chemical terms, she saw the gleaming light in her father's eyes—a hopeful light she had never seen before. She silently remembered this night in her heart, remembering that word that could win a person the respect of the whole world—science.

This media frenzy smashed out by Felix with five million dollars not only successfully poached Europe's existing talent reserves in a short period of time, but even more frighteningly, he also planted a batch of seeds named "Future" in countless ordinary families and schools.

Ten or twenty years later,

when these children enlightened by today's event grew up and became the giants leading the twentieth-century physics and chemistry revolutions,

the position of the Argyle Family in their hearts would become a deeply ingrained academic totem.

At this moment, the focus of all gazes—Manhattan, New York—was undergoing the final countdown.

New York in mid-May had a pleasant climate.

The trees in Central Park were lush and green, and tourist boats shuttled back and forth like weaving on the Hudson River.

The security level of the Argyle Empire Bank Building had been raised to the highest.

Not only inside the building, but even the dedicated railway line leading to Argyle University in upstate New York had been taken over by a large number of private security teams.

Ahem...

As for why there was a dedicated railway line here, never mind that.

Felix stood behind the spacious office desk, looking at the final itinerary just sent over by Frost.

"Boss, the first batch of passenger ships departing from Hamburg and Southampton are expected to arrive at New York Harbor in three days."

Frost's voice carried undisguised excitement.

"Although Mr. Joule was unable to make the trip due to health reasons, he sent his chief assistant with a handwritten letter as a representative. Mr. Darwin also sent his son to come, and the remaining twenty-three core candidates are all on the ship. Not only that, the self-funded scholars and entourages coming with them number nearly a thousand people. New York's upscale hotels have been fully booked."

Felix walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the bustling streets below.

"It seems the results are good. Remember that security work must not make any mistakes. The brains loaded on these ships are more valuable than the gold in my vault. Have Timmy lead people to personally go to the dock to pick people up."

Felix turned around, his black eyes flashing with the calmness and fanaticism of a hunter closing his net.

"Notify Federal Real Estate to open all the laboratory doors of Argyle University and polish those microscopes and generators until they shine. After the award ceremony ends, right at the banquet, slap the appointment letters and research funding checks directly onto their dining tables."

The corners of Felix's mouth curled into a cold sneer.

"Didn't that Queen of the Great British Empire and the Chancellor of Germany want to hold awards to snatch people from me? I must let them see that the meat that has entered my mouth—I don't want to leave even a single piece of bone scrap for them. In this May, I am going to turn New York into a new academic holy land."

In the wooden villa district of Upper Manhattan, the atmosphere was even more solemn than in the previous few days.

When the list of the twenty-five final candidates was telegraphed around the world, the thirty-five international judges had already begun the final selection from the list.

Among the five core candidates for each award, through repeated debates, evidence presentation, and secret ballots, they were to select the ultimate winner of the fifty thousand dollars.

Top floor office of the Empire Bank Building.

Edward Frost pushed open the door and placed a briefing on Felix's desk.

"Boss, security from the villa district has sent back word. Several physics and chemistry judges were arguing so fiercely in the reading room last night that they almost came to blows again. Regarding the final attribution of thermodynamics and electromagnetism, the British and Germans refused to yield to each other. Do you need someone sent inside to slightly 'guide' their voting intentions?"

Felix sat in a leather chair holding a cup of black coffee. Hearing Frost's proposal, he gently shook his head, a calm smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Unnecessary, Edward. In this matter, the Argyle Family must not exert any pressure at present."

Frost was somewhat puzzled and pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"But Boss, this is a five-million-dollar fund. The final winner will become a deity in the academic world. If we can secretly recommend a few scholars who are beneficial to our commercial territory..."

"Cast your gaze further ahead, my Secretary-General."

Felix interrupted him and put down his coffee cup.

"Have you carefully looked at the list of twenty-five candidates? Are there any scientists cultivated by our own laboratory inside?"

"None. Although Vanguard Military Industry and General Electric have many practical invention patents, the theoretical level of those engineers is still far from reaching the master level recognized by the European academic circle." Frost answered honestly.

"Since there is no one of our own, it makes no difference to us who wins the award."

Felix interlocked his fingers and rested them on the desktop, his eyes deep.

"The value of this award does not lie in who takes away those fifty thousand dollars. It lies in making the surname 'Argyle' the sole balance for judging truth. If the outside world discovers that we are secretly manipulating the vote, then this award will become a plaything of capital and become worthless. Only by letting those eccentric old men select results in a relatively closed and fair environment can the majority of people worldwide be truly convinced."

"Let them argue, let them fight. The fiercer they argue, the heavier the weight of this award in their hearts. We are only responsible for smiling and handing the check to the winner on the final day. Understood?"

"Understood, Boss. It was my oversight." Frost nodded respectfully.

"Is there anything else?"

"Yes."

Frost opened his memorandum.

"The passenger ship departing from Graz, Austria has docked at New York Harbor. Mr. Klaus of the Intelligence Department has safely arrived with Mr. Nikola Tesla and his family. Timmy has already dispatched a car to pick them up and take them to a high-end restaurant in Midtown, as you previously instructed that you wanted to see him personally."

Hearing this name, a trace of imperceptible intensity flashed through Felix's eyes.

"Then go prepare the car."

Without the slightest hesitation, Felix directly picked up the overcoat from the coat rack.

Half an hour later, a high-end steakhouse in Midtown New York.

The entire second floor had been completely cleared by the security personnel of the Argyle Family.

When Felix walked up the stairs accompanied by Mark, a tall, thin young person wearing an old suit that was obviously a bit ill-fitting was sitting uneasily beside the dining table.

His face was pale, his cheekbones prominent, and within those sunken eye sockets, there shone an unusual brightness.

Seeing Felix walk over, Klaus, who had been accompanying him all along, immediately stood up.

"Boss, this is Nikola Tesla."

Tesla also abruptly stood up along with him.

Because the movement was too fast, his knees hit the heavy oak dining table, but he seemed not to feel the pain. Looking at the man before him who was not much older than himself yet controlled a massive empire, Tesla's breathing became abnormally rapid.

"Mr. Argyle..."

Tesla's voice carried a heavy Eastern European accent, trembling slightly due to tension.

"I... I do not know how to express my gratitude. If it were not for you sending Mr. Timmy and Mr. Klaus to find me, and paying my tuition and living expenses for me, my father would certainly have forced me to stay in Serbia, serving as a priest for a lifetime in that dilapidated Orthodox church. It was you who saved my soul."

Felix smiled and stepped forward, extending his right hand.

"Sit down, Nikola. In America, we do not talk about salvation, only value. I have seen your transcript from Graz University of Technology; your talent in mathematics and physics is more useful than the prayers of a hundred priests."

Tesla held Felix's hand flustered and overwhelmed with favor, then sat back down somewhat stiffly.

The waiter served top-tier ribeye steak and red wine.

But Tesla clearly had no interest in the food; his mind was entirely filled with those wildly spinning coils.

"Mr. Argyle, you mentioned in your correspondence that you are very interested in my Alternating Current conception?"

Tesla's eyes stared fixedly at Felix.

"In Graz, Professor Pöschl ridiculed me in front of all the classmates. He said that Alternating Current is like a madman pulling back and forth at both ends, completely unable to drive a motor. He told me to crawl back to reality and study the damn Direct Current commutator!"

Tesla excitedly waved the table knife in his hand.

"But he was wrong! The commutator of Direct Current produces a massive amount of sparks during friction, the loss is shockingly large, and it cannot perform long-distance voltage conversion. That is a dead end!"

Felix cut a small piece of beef, put it into his mouth, chewed it carefully, and did not interrupt Tesla's outpouring.

He was very clear that what this young man before him had in his head was an ultimate weapon sufficient to subvert the global energy pattern of the entire world within the next fifty years.

"So, what is your solution?"

Felix swallowed the beef, picked up the napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth, and asked calmly.

Tesla's eyes lit up.

He didn't even care about table etiquette, directly picking up a fountain pen to quickly sketch on the clean white napkin.

"Rotating Magnetic Field! Mr. Argyle, look. As long as we introduce two-phase or three-phase Alternating Current, making them produce a fixed difference in phase. When the current passes through the fixed coil, it will generate a continuously Rotating Magnetic Field in space. And the rotor placed in the middle will be driven to rotate by this magnetic field!"

Tesla's nib wandered wildly on the napkin, drawing one complex electromagnetic induction formula after another.

"No commutator and brushes needed, no friction sparks! This is a perfect machine with a simple structure yet without wear!"

Felix looked at those messy yet logical lines on the napkin.

Although he could only roughly understand the profound physical derivations within, he was a businessman and saw the immeasurable commercial value behind this technology.

Once the Alternating Current motor and Transformer are successfully developed, General Electric will no longer be limited to providing illumination only to a few streets and factories close to the power plant.

He could build the power plant next to a waterfall dozens of miles away, and then use high-voltage power lines to transmit an endless stream of power to every factory in the city!

"Nikola."

Felix reached out and held down Tesla's wrist, which was still drawing.

Tesla was stunned for a moment, looking at Felix somewhat apprehensively, thinking that the other party, just like those European professors, felt he was talking nonsense.

"Your conception is very brilliant, and I believe it is correct." Felix looked straight into Tesla's eyes, giving this young man the affirmation he desired most in his life.

"Re... Really?"

Tesla's eye sockets instantly turned red.

"Of course. However, science cannot just stay on a paper napkin."

Felix stood up and picked up the overcoat draped over the back of his chair.

"Are you full? If you are full, come with me. I will take you to see the sand table prepared for you."

A private train carrying the Argyle Family crest was speeding northward along the railway line of the Hudson River Valley.

The carriages of this train were custom-built for Felix by the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company.

Inside the carriage, instead of the crowded seats found in traditional passenger cars, thick carpets were laid out, paired with leather sofas, a cigar cabinet, and even a small bar.

Outside the train window, the scenery of the Hudson River Valley in May was picturesque.

Sunlight spilled over the sparkling river, and the freshly green woods on both banks receded rapidly amidst the white smoke spewed by the steam locomotive.

Tesla sat on the sofa, holding a cup of black tea and looking somewhat fidgety.

He had lived in a village in Eastern Europe since childhood, and later went to study in Austria; although he had someone specifically taking care of him, he didn't have much money.

This extremely luxurious way of traveling gave him a sense of unreality.

"Don't be so nervous, Nikola. In America, as long as your brain can generate profits, you can buy a carriage like this for yourself in the future."

Felix sat opposite him, flipping through the documents in his hand and speaking without raising his head.

"Mr. Argyle, where are we going? Are we going to your factory?" Tesla asked cautiously.

"Of course not, to a university. That is, your new school." Closing the document, Felix raised his head and looked at him.

"Klaus should have told you that I built a university in upstate New York. Before those Rotating Magnetic Fields of yours turn into real machines, you need a quiet place to finish drawing the blueprints and solidly work out those tedious mathematical calculations. I don't want your machine to blow the laboratory up to the sky the first time it is powered on."

After running for about two hours, the train slowly drove into a newly built private platform.

Stepping off the train, Tesla was instantly shocked by the scene before him.

On a wide plain surrounded by forests, several magnificent Gothic red-brick buildings rose from the ground.

The towering spires pierced straight into the clouds, and large areas of stained glass windows glistened in the sunlight. On the exterior walls of the buildings, the newly transplanted ivy had already begun to sprout new buds.

The air was filled with the scent of fresh soil, pine wood, and paint that had not yet completely dissipated.

This was Argyle University.

An ivory tower completely catalyzed by capital, yet untainted by the slightest smell of heavy industrial soot.

"Let's go, I'll take you to meet your future colleagues and mentors." Felix leaned on his walking stick and walked in front.

The two of them crossed the flat gravel path and walked into one of the comprehensive teaching buildings.

The corridor on the first floor was very spacious. When they pushed open the double doors hanging with a sign reading "Physics Experimental Center", Tesla froze completely.

In the huge laboratory of over two hundred square meters, heavy oak experimental tables were neatly arranged. Sunlight poured in through the huge glass windows, illuminating the instruments on the experimental tables that exuded a charming metallic luster.

Optical microscopes from Carl Zeiss of Germany, high-precision galvanometers imported from Britain, rows of neatly arranged glass test tubes, and in the corner, a small steam generator newly developed by the Atlantic Steam Power Company and a direct current generator from General Electric.

This was simply the paradise of every physicist's dreams.

"Boss, why did you come here personally?"

A middle-aged man wearing a white lab coat and somewhat messy hair raised his head from a pile of wires, and upon seeing Felix, immediately put down the tools in his hand and walked over.

"Let me introduce you to a new student, Professor Harrison."

Felix pointed to Tesla behind him.

"Nikola Tesla, picked up from the Graz University of Technology in Austria. There are some very crazy electrical ideas in his head."

Professor Harrison pushed his glasses up, looked up and down at the tall and thin Eastern European youth, and then extended his hand.

"Welcome to Argyle University. I am the temporary head of the physics department here, David Harrison. I used to teach in Boston, and was just poached by the boss with a high salary last month."

Harrison was a straightforward scholar, and he pointed to the generator behind him.

"Young man, do you understand electromagnetic induction? I am testing the output power of this new machine, and those guys at the machinery plant left the rotor clearance way too small."

Seeing that machine, Tesla's eyes immediately radiated a fanatical glow. Without even taking off his coat, he walked straight over, circled the generator twice, and even touched the brushes of the commutator with his hand.

"Professor, the direct current output of this machine is indeed unstable. If you want to increase the power, you might as well make some changes to the winding method of the exciting coil. In addition, the material of the brush is too hard, and high-speed friction will seriously wear out the copper pieces of the commutator."

As soon as Tesla opened his mouth, those professional terms popped out like machine-gun fire.

Professor Harrison was stunned for a moment, then his eyes lit up, and he immediately pulled Tesla into a heated discussion.

The two of them even directly picked up chalk and started drawing circuit diagrams on the blackboard beside them.

Standing at the door, Felix watched this scene without interrupting them. He was very clear that true technical fanatics could only show their maximum value when they smelled engine oil and ozone.

A dozen minutes later, Tesla suddenly realized that he had left the big boss standing aside.

He ran back to Felix's side with a flushed face, rubbing his hands awkwardly.

"Sorry, Mr. Argyle. As soon as I saw those machines..."

"No need to apologize. That is your instinct; keep this instinct."

Felix patted him on the shoulder, and his tone became solemn.

"Nikola, this university has just been built. In the next few months, a large number of top scholars poached from Europe with huge sums of money will move in. They are the smartest people in the world."

With that, he looked into Tesla's eyes.

"I want you to study their theoretical foundation well here, and make up for everything you haven't finished learning in Graz. Strive to get your diploma early. But..."

Felix changed the subject.

"Theory is just a tool. I grant you special permission to enter the core factory of the General Electric Company for an internship at any time during your studies at the university. You can use the workshops and molds there however you like. As long as your Rotating Magnetic Field theory can run through on paper, General Electric will have the ability to manufacture all the parts for you."

Tesla was shaking all over with excitement.

"Absorb theory in the university, and build the monster in your head in General Electric's workshop. This university is your starting point, but the playground is my factory. Don't make me wait too long." Felix patted him on the shoulder and turned to walk out of the laboratory.

After leaving the physics experimental center, Felix walked along the corridor to the board of directors meeting room located on the top floor of the administrative main building.

Pushing open the door, a slightly chubby man wearing a respectable tailcoat was already waiting there.

His name was Walter Higgins, a deacon of the Argyle Charitable Foundation, and he currently also served as a member of the board of directors of this newly built university.

"Boss, you've arrived."

Higgins respectfully greeted him and pulled out the chair at the main seat.

Felix sat down and placed his walking stick on the corner of the table.

"Speak, Walter. The telegram said there is urgent school business that requires me to decide personally. What matter is so big that even you, a board member, can't make the call?"

Higgins wiped the sweat from his forehead, took out a few files from his briefcase, and placed them on the table.

"Boss, the hardware facilities of the university have all been completed. The equipment is world-class, and the leading professors of various departments are also signing contracts one after another. However, we are currently facing a severe vacancy. A shell without a soul cannot operate."

Higgins looked at Felix with an extremely solemn expression.

"We need a president. A leading figure in the educational and academic circles who possesses absolute prestige and can suppress those arrogant European scholars. Without such a lighthouse-like figure to hold down the fort, in the eyes of the outside world, this university will forever be just a nouveau riche shelter reeking of copper stench."

Hearing this, Felix stopped tapping his fingers on the table.

Higgins hit the nail on the head.

The administrative conference room was dead silent, broken only by the ticking pendulum of the grandfather clock.

Felix gazed deeply at the thick dossiers on the desktop.

He knew very well that the rise of a world-class prestigious university could never be accomplished simply by throwing money to build a few pretty Gothic buildings.

Those top European scholars lured by the fifty-thousand-dollar prize and high salaries were all arrogant beyond measure.

If a business manager who didn't understand academia was appointed as president, these scholars would definitely protest; if some fossil of an old fogey was casually poached from domestic Ivy League schools, it wouldn't be able to awe these European big shots who had truly experienced the baptism of the scientific revolution.

Therefore, this presidential chair currently had to be sat in by someone impeccable in academic status, international reputation, and worldly sophistication.

"Since you brought it up, you must have already scouted out suitable candidates." Felix leaned back in his chair and pulled a cigar out of the silver cigarette case.

"Don't make me ask one by one. Tell me directly, who did you pick?"

Higgins immediately lined up the three dossiers side by side in front of Felix.

As a member of the Board of Trustees, he knew the boss's temper well: he would never come to the boss with problems, but with options.

"Boss, riding the coattails of this Argyle Science and Peace Prize, a large number of European scholars have gathered in New York. I sifted through the list of those thirty-five international judges and twenty-five candidates repeatedly for half a month. Finally, I picked three candidates who are most likely to accept our invitation and carry enough weight."

Higgins opened the first dossier, which featured an elderly Englishman with a graying beard and an extremely arrogant gaze.

"The first is Sir Arthur Penhaligon. A senior fellow of the Royal Society, and honorary professor at the University of Cambridge. He possesses extremely high prestige throughout the English-speaking academic circle. If we hire him, we can not only instantly gain recognition from the British academic community, but also greatly elevate our status in the hearts of the domestic conservatives in North America."

Felix didn't even look at that dossier, directly exhaling a puff of smoke and rejecting it mercilessly.

"Cross it off. That bunch of stubborn old fogies from the Royal Society ooze the sickening arrogance of the British Empire deep down in their bones. Even if Penhaligon came, he would only turn this university into an overseas branch of Cambridge. Besides, his political entanglements in London are too deep. I don't want Queen Victoria's spies mixing into the laboratories. Next."

Higgins wasn't surprised in the least, quickly closing the first dossier and opening the second one.

This photograph showed a German with a stern expression and wearing a double-breasted suit.

"The second is Dr. Wilhelm Koch. He is a judge for this award and has clearly expressed his willingness to stay in America. Dr. Koch holds an extremely high position in Germany's chemical community, is rigorous in character, and possesses extremely strong executive ability. If he serves as president, the university's scientific research efficiency and discipline will receive the most perfect guarantee."

Felix stared at Koch's photo for a while, his fingers tapping gently on the tabletop, seemingly deep in thought.

But a moment later, he still shook his head.

"Dr. Koch is a good scholar and a good professor. But he is not a good president. Germans are too rigid and lack political maneuvering and slick interpersonal skills. Moreover..."

A trace of coldness flashed through Felix's eyes.

"That old Iron-Blood Bismarck is frantically integrating the power of the German Empire, and the national pride of the Germans is expanding unprecedentedly. If Koch sits in the presidential position for too long, there's no guarantee he won't secretly transport the core technological achievements of the university back to Berlin. Someone with such potential nationalist tendencies can only be used for research; he cannot be allowed to control the administrative supreme power of the school. Next."

Higgins took a deep breath and opened the last dossier.

This was a French scholar with a neat goatee, a deep gaze, and a sense of exhaustion weathered by the vicissitudes of life.

"The third is Professor Armand Lefebvre." Higgins's voice rose a few notches.

"Academician of the French Paris Academy of Sciences, and a master of physics at the École Normale Supérieure in Paris. At the same time, he is also one of the core judges for this award."

Higgins began to elaborate on his reasons in detail.

"Boss, Professor Armand is an extremely pragmatic person. He enjoys extremely high prestige in the French academic circle, but due to France's defeat in the Franco-Prussian War, coupled with the turbulence of the Paris Commune and the French government's financial bankruptcy, his laboratory has faced closure several times. He has completely despaired of the French government's endless political infighting."

"During this selection event, Professor Armand showed extremely strong organizational ability and receptiveness to new things. He is not as arrogant as the English, nor as rigid as the Germans. Most importantly, he is now urgently in need of a stable, affluent, and respectful environment to settle his remaining life and academic ideals."

Hearing this, a satisfied look finally appeared in Felix's eyes.

He carefully looked at Professor Armand's resume, rapidly analyzing the political and psychological logic behind it in his mind.

France.

A country whose backbone had just been broken by Prussia in the Battle of Sedan.

The emperor was captured, the government went bankrupt, and various domestic factions were still fighting bloody battles over whether to restore the Bourbon or establish a republic.

In such a shattered realm, the national faith of intellectuals was at its most fragile time.

"Choose him."

Felix pressed the cigar into the ashtray, settling the matter with a final word.

"France is a mess right now. Compared to the heavily guarded Britain and the rising Germany, draining their academic blood from the ruins of France incurs the minimal diplomatic resistance politically. That old man Thiers can't even pay the indemnity; he simply has no confidence to cause trouble for Washington."

Standing up, Felix tapped Armand's dossier with his finger.

"Furthermore, a scholar utterly disappointed with his motherland's politicians, once gaining power and respect in America that he could never get in France, will become the most loyal defender of the Argyle Family. He will use his reputation in Europe to continuously pull those French and Southern European scholars who are likewise struggling in poverty into our ivory tower."

Hearing the boss's analysis, Higgins bowed admiringly.

"Boss, what you said is so right. Then, how should I make the invitation to Professor Armand?"

"An authority of this level cannot be bludgeoned with a cold contract."

Felix picked up his cane and adjusted the collar of his coat.

"After the award ceremony in May, I will personally host a private banquet for him at the castle in Long Island. I will also hand over the personnel appointment and dismissal rights, the academic direction decision-making rights of the entire Argyle University, and a two-hundred-thousand-dollar anonymous presidential special fund every year into his hands. As long as he doesn't get involved in commercial secrets, he is the king in this university."

Felix walked toward the conference room door.

"Go prepare the official letter of appointment, Walter. Use the best parchment and stamp it with the family's golden seal, leaving enough face for this future president."

After confirming the candidate for the president and ensuring that the school had no other troubles, Felix left the place.

After all, this was not yet the true main battlefield, but merely a backup move by the Argyle Family in the academic and educational circles.

Sounding its deep whistle in the night, the train departed the quiet valley where the university was located, speeding once again toward Manhattan in the south.

Felix sat inside the carriage, watching the blurred shadows of trees sweeping past outside the window.

The settlement of the university president meant that the final puzzle piece of the Argyle Family in technological development had been pieced together completely.

From the introduction of basic science to the research and development in university laboratories, then to commercial production by enterprises such as General Electric and Vanguard Military Industry, and finally dumping globally through the ocean-going fleet of the Metropolitan Trading Company.

A closed-loop capital empire that no external force could forcibly breach completely took shape in this spring of 1872.

Although this circle was still relatively small at present, it had already laid a solid foundation.

After all, the Argyle Family Charitable Foundation had currently built hundreds of orphanages throughout New York State, along with dozens of primary and secondary schools and several technical schools to provide education for these orphans.

Of course, these primary and secondary schools also accepted children from society, just like most of the children of company employees under the family's banner studied inside them.

Once these children entered university, they would become the family's reserve talent.

After returning to Manhattan, Felix did not head to the office on Wall Street.

The heavy commercial decisions and academic planning had consumed too much of his energy.

On this night permeated with the humid breath of early spring, he decided to temporarily take off that ruthless plutocrat mask.

The carriage made a turn on Fifth Avenue, heading toward Brooklyn Heights along a quiet tree-lined avenue.

Along the way, the electric street lamps cast long reflections on the puddle-strewn flagstone road.

The wheels crushed over puddles, making a crisp rustling sound.

This was the private residence of Isabella Bourbon.

As a descendant of Europe's ancient royal family, Isabella was placed by Felix in this hidden and heavily guarded villa.

To the outside world, she was merely a canary kept in a cage by this American financial oligarch.

Of course, the truth was also the case.

Previously, the matter of the House of Bourbon's restoration in Europe had completely gone bankrupt due to the stubbornness of Henry V and the counterattack of the French republicans.

Felix bloodlessly gathered the Suez Canal shares and Cuba sugar mills used as collateral into his pocket.

Isabella's father, Duke Antoine, an aristocrat who had once danced skillfully in European political circles, could now only rely on the money of the Argyle Family to act as a wealthy old man in an estate in California.

The House of Bourbon had lost everything, but Isabella had won a glimmer of survival.

The carriage stopped in front of the villa's black iron art gate, and a guard stepped forward to pull open the carriage door.

Felix stepped down from the carriage and looked up.

Beneath the villa's porch, a warm wall lamp was lit.

Isabella was standing on the steps, waiting for his return.

Today she wore a loose silk long dress, draped with a soft cashmere shawl on the outside.

That face, which blended the classical beauty of European nobility with a hint of melancholy, appeared exceptionally soft under the light.

Most eye-catching was her already noticeably protruding abdomen.

Pregnant for nearly six months, Isabella had shed the defensive vigilance she had when she first arrived in New York, and her body possessed an extra gentleness and gravity unique to a mother.

Seeing Felix walking over, a heartfelt joyful smile instantly bloomed on Isabella's face.

Holding up her skirt hem, she carefully walked down two steps.

"You are back. The telegram said you went to the university in Upstate, and I thought you were going to spend the night there tonight."

Isabella's English carried an elegant French accent.

Felix stepped forward, naturally reaching out to put his arm around her waist, while his other hand gently covered her protruding abdomen.

Through the silk, he could feel the weak life being nurtured within.

"The matters of the university have been properly arranged. It will soon become a sanctuary for European scholars."

Holding her as they walked into the house, Felix's tone unusually carried a hint of gentleness.

"The wind outside is a bit chilly, and given your current physical condition, you shouldn't stand on the porch for so long."

"The family doctor said breathing more fresh air is good for the child."

Isabella leaned against Felix's shoulder, feeling the reassuring warmth emanating from this man.

The two walked into the warm living room.

The fire in the fireplace burned very brightly, and a faint fragrance of pine floated in the air.

The maid brought over warm milk and some snacks, then quietly retreated.

Felix sat down on the sofa, with Isabella snuggling closely beside him.

"Today Father sent a telegram from California."

Isabella spoke softly, her tone carrying complex emotions.

"He said he planted some grapes in the estate over there, and they are growing very well. He also inquired about the child's due date in the letter."

Felix picked up the milk cup and handed it to Isabella.

"It is a good thing that Duke Antoine can calm down and be a farmer. Those political games in Europe are no longer suitable for him. After the child is born, you can arrange for him to come to New York for a visit."

Isabella took the cup and lowered her head to look at her own abdomen, her gaze turning somewhat hazy.

"Felix, sometimes I feel like all this is like a dream. The family lost hundreds of years of thrones and wealth in Europe, yet bred a new bloodline on the land of America."

Raising her head, she looked at this man who had taken away the family's trump card, yet given her the most solid shelter.

"After this child is born, he will flow with the blue blood of the House of Bourbon in his veins, but his surname will be Argyle. He may not become a king, but at least he can become a wealthy man."

Felix detected that hint of emotion and probing in her words.

He reached out and gently stroked Isabelle's compliant long hair.

"In the Old World, blood determines status. But in the New World, capital determines everything." Felix's eyes were as deep as the night.

"I don't think he needs to become any nominal king. As long as he is of the Argyle Family's bloodline, the entire world will grovel at his feet."

"Of course... if there is a chance, I will let our child get what he deserves."

Felix's words exuded a chilling domineering aura, yet at this moment, they gave Isabella the most solid reliance.

She understood Felix's meaning.

Moreover, in this era where the weak are meat and the strong eat, the man before her was more reliable than any ancient badge.

"The awards ceremony in May is almost here, right?"

Isabella changed the subject, with an expectant smile on her face.

"Soon."

Felix leaned against the sofa, watching the leaping flames in the fireplace.

"Those smartest brains in Europe should now be on the ocean liners of the Atlantic Ocean. Once they dock, New York will host a true coronation ceremony."

Time flows back to half a month ago inside the prime minister's office at 10 Downing Street in London.

Although the heavy wooden door was tightly shut, the fierce arguments coming from inside could still be faintly heard.

Several core members of the cabinet, along with representatives of the Royal Society such as lord Cavendish, were standing in front of Prime Minister Gladstone's desk, trying to make a final dissuasion.

"Your Excellency the Prime Minister, please reconsider! Your itinerary is simply absurd to the extreme!"

lord Cavendish pressed both hands on the surface of the desk, his emotions somewhat agitated.

"You are the current Prime Minister of the British Empire! How can you personally run off to America at a time like this to attend the award ceremony held by that Felix Argyle? This is not just about personal face, it's even boosting the momentum of that award!"

The cabinet minister beside him quickly chimed in.

"Your Excellency, the lord is right. Our 'Royal Industrial and Science Award' preparatory committee has just been established. At this time, for you, as the head of the cabinet, to run over and endorse the opponent's award, what will the outside world think of us? This is tantamount to admitting to all of Europe that the authority of the Argyle Science and Peace Prize overrides the British Empire!"

Facing the bombardment from his colleagues, Prime Minister Gladstone did not show the slightest bit of panic.

He unhurriedly organized several documents that had already been signed and put them into his briefcase.

Then he raised his head, his calm gaze carrying a trace of mockery as he swept over the people in front of him.

"Are you finished? If you are finished, please make way. The special train to Liverpool Port is departing in an hour, and I certainly don't want to miss this voyage because of your complaints."

"William!"

lord Cavendish was so anxious that he called him directly by his first name.

"What on earth are you thinking? Where has that political rationality you usually pride yourself on gone?"

"My political rationality has always been here, Winston. Precisely because my rationality is clear, I must go to New York."

Gladstone stood up, walked around the desk, and looked straight into lord Cavendish's eyes.

"You talk about the domestic award preparatory committee. Do you have any idea what kind of state that damn committee is in? Those old men of the Royal Society run back and forth between the House of Commons and Buckingham Palace every day just to cram their own students into the first awardee list, undermining and stepping on each other! Before the Royal Award has even been established, it has already become a self-amusing loot-sharing game for domestic academic aristocrats!"

Gladstone unmercifully ripped open the fig leaf, his voice revealing calmness.

"Or do you guys think the Royal Award is truly presentable? Can it convince the French and the Germans? Stop dreaming. The whole world now only recognizes the Argyle Award, which put out five million dollars in hard cash and was selected through a closed mechanism!"

"But that still doesn't change the fact that it's an award run by Americans, and he is even of Irish descent!" the cabinet minister retorted with a flushed face.

"Nationality is not important at all! What is important is this award's positioning in future history!"

Gladstone suddenly raised his volume, displaying his calculations as the empire's prime minister.

"You guys, do you really think I'm just going to get that fifty-thousand-dollar prize money? Open your eyes and look at that final list of twenty-five candidates! Joule, Helmholtz, Pasteur, Hugo, Tolstoy! What kind of people are those? They are a group of peaks destined to be written into the annals of human civilization and still worshipped centuries later!"

Gladstone's eyes flashed with a desire for political legacy.

"The Argyle Science and Peace Prize is the world's first truly global grand award in the true sense. And I, William Gladstone, am the only politician on this list! If I can win the inaugural peace prize, do you know what this means?"

He spread his arms.

"This means that under worldwide recognition, it was I who led the British Empire in making the most outstanding contribution to the peace and development of this world. This reputation will forever be bound together with names like Pasteur and Hugo to be passed down! When the next general election begins, what will Disraeli of the opposition party use to compare with me? What will he use to question my foreign policy and governance philosophy?"

The office was completely silent.

lord Cavendish and the cabinet ministers looked at each other in dismay; they finally understood the prime minister's true intention.

He intended to use the super stage built by Argyle to gild his own political career and historical status!

Damn it!

How did this kind of good thing happen to let this guy catch it.

Those cabinet members felt somewhat jealous inside, even though it was just a nomination.

But everyone was clear about it.

Given the current status of the British Empire, the prime minister going there personally was giving face. It was simply impossible to let him return empty-handed.

Even if those judges didn't give face, would Argyle, as a businessman, really not give face?

"So, put away those thoughts of yours." Gladstone picked up his coat and top hat.

"I must, and definitely will, go to this coronation ceremony in New York. This is not only for personal votes, but also so that the British Empire can occupy a lofty position in future history books. God himself can't even keep me in London, I said so!"

Having said that, Gladstone paid no more attention to his dumbfounded colleagues and strode out of the office.

...

In New York Harbor at the end of mid-May, the sunshine was bright.

Seagulls circled in the blue sky, and the sounds of steam whistles rose one after another.

To welcome these top talents from Europe, the Argyle Family rented out the entire Deep Water Pier No. 7. Long cordon lines were set up around the pier by heavily armed security personnel.

Outside the cordon lines were thousands of New York citizens who had caught wind of the news, reporters from major newspaper offices, and those scholars who had traveled to America ahead of time at their own expense.

They crowded together, stretching their necks, waiting for that giant ship crossing the Atlantic Ocean to dock.

"Boss, the White Star Line's 'Oceanic' has already entered the main channel."

Frost stood beside Felix, looking at the black ship shadow in the distance that was gradually growing larger as he spoke.

Felix leaned on his cane with both hands, standing quietly at the end of the red carpet.

Watching that giant ship slowly approach, the sailors tossed thick cables onto the pier, and the heavy gangway slowly lowered along with the turning sound of the winch.

"The Prime Minister of the British Empire, the father of French microbiology, the chemical pioneer of Russia, and those great masters who left their names in the history of physics."

Felix murmured softly, a smile curving at the corner of his mouth.

"Edward, today, we will personally welcome the soul of the Old World ashore."

As the gangway was set up.

Amidst the thunderous cheers of the audience and the wildly flashing magnesium lights of the reporters, the first to disembark was British Prime Minister William Gladstone.

Behind him followed his entourage and guards; although he had endured a journey of fatigue, His Excellency the Prime Minister still maintained a vigorous mental state, smiling and waving to the surrounding crowd.

Felix stepped forward to shake hands with the helmsman of this great nation.

"Welcome to America, Your Excellency the Prime Minister. Your arrival brings vigorous splendor to this land."

No flaws could be picked out in the tone, and his skill at commercial mutual boasting was also pure and consummate.

"Mr. Argyle, I have long heard of your reputation."

Gladstone held Felix's hand tightly, shrewdness in his eyes.

"You are not only an outstanding businessman, but also a pioneer who knows how to respect civilization. The British Empire has always been paying attention to your efforts in promoting human progress."

This old fellow's words have a hidden meaning...

"Peace always requires a price to be paid, and I am willing to bear that price."

Felix responded with a smile, having anticipated this.

In their brief pleasantries, every single sentence concealed the sharp edge of politics and capital.

Following closely, other scholars successively walked down the gangway.

Louis Pasteur appeared somewhat tired; he held his wife's hand and looked around at this unfamiliar city.

Felix bypassed Gladstone and walked up to Pasteur, bowing slightly with extreme solemnity.

"Mr. Pasteur, your microbiological theory has saved countless lives. In America, every doctor regards your name as a lifesaving incantation. The foundation has prepared the quietest suite for you."

"You are too polite, Mr. Argyle. Truth belongs to all humanity." Pasteur felt somewhat flattered.

You must know that Felix's reputation in the academic world right now was not low, even though he himself was not a scholar or a scientist.

But due to the hosting of the Argyle Science and Peace Prize, his status had soared crazily; calling him the big daddy of the circle wouldn't be an exaggeration at all.

Next was Mendeleev, who was tall and had a thick beard. He was controversial within Russia, but on the pier in New York, he received cheers.

"Professor Mendeleev, the periodic table of elements is a codebook hidden by God in nature. And you are the prophet who deciphered the code." Felix shook his hand and bestowed the highest level of praise.

The Russian chemist's eyes reddened, and he gripped Felix's hand tightly, so excited that he could only continuously speak words of gratitude in Russian.

Darwin's son Francis Darwin attended on behalf of his father; arts and science masters like Clausius and Flaubert shook hands with Felix one after another.

This session of pleasantries lasted for a full half hour and more.

Felix shuttled with ease among these top geniuses in various fields, using his words to touch upon the parts of their hearts they were most proud of and most eager to have recognized.

"Gentlemen. The voyage was exhausting, and I have already arranged comfortable carriages and hotels."

Standing in the center of the crowd, Felix raised his volume to announce.

"Everyone, please take a good rest today first. Tomorrow evening, at the Astor Hotel where you are staying, the Argyle Family will host a grand communication banquet. There will not be those lengthy official speeches, only the purest communication between scholars. I look forward to all of you sparking new ideological fires in the New World."

As the arrangements fell into place, dozens of luxurious four-wheeled carriages had long been waiting at the pier.

Escorted by security personnel, this motorcade carrying humanity's strongest brains drove grandly toward the urban area of Manhattan.

The Astor Hotel is New York's most prestigious top-tier hotel, and it has now been heavily booked in its entirety by the Argyle Family specifically to accommodate these twenty-five final candidates and their accompanying teams.

Hn...

Patriot Investment holds shares in it.

As the motorcade passed through the busy streets of Manhattan, it finally stopped in front of the hotel's imposing revolving doors.

Most of the elderly scholars were indeed exhausted after enduring a long voyage across the sea.

For instance, Louis Pasteur and Clausius, guided by the waiters, went straight into the luxury suites that had long been prepared, collapsing onto the soft beds and falling deeply asleep.

But there were also some energetic scholars and young attendants full of curiosity about the New World who could not suppress the impulse in their hearts.

Dmitry Mendeleev was one of them.

This energetic Russian chemist in his prime threw his luggage into the room and, without even taking the time to drink a cup of hot water, pulled his assistant out of the room.

In the hotel lobby, Mendeleev bumped into the German physicist Hermann von Helmholtz, who was likewise completely devoid of sleepiness, as well as the young botanist Francis Darwin, who came in place of his father.

"Gentlemen, it looks like you don't intend to rest immediately either. If you don't mind, how about taking a walk together in this city?" Professor Helmholtz proposed, a look of inquiry in his eyes.

"Of course. In Europe, everyone says this place is a cultural desert; I want to see with my own eyes what on earth has grown out of this desert."

Mendeleev and Francis readily agreed.

Knowing that someone wanted to go out for a tour, to ensure the safety of these important guests, security director Mark personally selected four capable guards to accompany them.

Walking out of the hotel, what met them head-on was a bustling vitality.

On both sides of the street, towering buildings were springing up from the ground.

Heavy carriages pulling bricks and steel pressed deep ruts into the slate roads.

The air was permeated with a mixed odor of coal ash, horse manure, and hot dog stands.

"Wow~ The construction speed here is truly astonishing."

Francis Darwin looked up at a seven-story building under construction not far away, unable to help expressing his emotion.

"In London, building a structure like this would take at least three years. And to think they are actually using steel to build the framework?"

Hearing Francis's words, Mark explained with a hint of pride in his tone.

"Sir, that is the construction site of the Federal Real Estate Company.

Using steel as the load-bearing structure, the technology is already relatively mature.

Not only is the speed fast, but the floors can also be built higher.

The Argyle's Building over on Wall Street has already been built to ten floors and is preparing to be completed; it is the tallest in all of America."

Several scholars looked at each other, seeing the astonishment in each other's eyes.

Using steel as a building framework was still in the stage of theoretical discussion and a very few experimental buildings in Europe, whereas in New York it seemed almost to have become the norm.

At least that Federal Real Estate definitely mastered the technology.

They continued walking forward.

When passing by a Universal Department Store, Professor Helmholtz stopped in his tracks.

Through the bright glass display window, he saw several female clerks sitting in front of desks, their hands tapping rapidly on a complexly structured machine.

"Da da da... Ding!"

The crisp metal clatter and carriage return sound caught his attention.

"Is that a Typewriter?"

Helmholtz pointed inside the window and asked.

"Yes, Professor, that is a new type of Typewriter produced by the Argyle Commercial Machinery Company." Mark answered patiently.

"Now most large companies in New York have phased out handwritten documents.

Using this kind of machine is not only fast, but the handwriting is also clear, and there will never be the trouble of misrecognizing words.

It seems quite a lot have been sold over in Europe too..."

Mendeleev leaned over to carefully observe the mechanical transmission structure of that machine, unable to hold back his praise.

"Extremely exquisite lever design.

Engraving letters on type hammers and driving them to strike the ribbon through keys...

This idea of transforming complex mechanical movement into text output is simply too clever."

Professor Helmholtz's brows furrowed slightly.

"Are they sold in Europe? But I've only seen similar crude prototypes in the private laboratories of some inventors."

"I didn't expect it to already be in official commercial use."

Actually, it's not strange.

Due to occupying the domestic market, the amount exported each month was not that much to begin with.

Those Typewriters sent to Europe by Metropolitan Trade basically didn't even wait to flow into the market before being pre-ordered and bought out by governments and large companies.

As night began to fall.

The sky over Manhattan gradually turned dark blue.

Just as these few scholars were preparing to turn back to the hotel, they saw an unforgettable scene.

On the towering iron pillars on both sides of the street, a faint "humming" sound suddenly emitted.

Immediately afterward, balls of extremely dazzling, daylight-like strong light burst within the glass covers at the top of the pillars.

Different from the dim and flickering gas lamps, the light was stable, bright, and carried a touch of cold technological sense.

The entire Broadway was illuminated brightly within a few seconds.

Even the muddy water in the cracks of the road could be seen clearly.

"Good God!"

Francis Darwin exclaimed, subconsciously shielding his eyes with his hand.

Mendeleev and Helmholtz, regardless of the dazzling light, stared fixedly at that glowing electric arc.

"This is the electric arc lamp... utilizing the high-voltage electric arc generated at both ends of the carbon rods to emit light."

Professor Helmholtz's voice was shaking.

As a polymath physicist, he certainly knew the principle behind this.

"I know the principle. But in Berlin, this thing can only light up for a few minutes on an insulating table in a laboratory. How did they solve the problem of long-term power supply and carbon rod burnout? More importantly, with such a massive power grid, how could they possibly lay it out on the streets?!"

Helmholtz practically pounced in front of Mark and grabbed his arm.

"Mr. Mark, where is the power source for these lights?"

Mark was startled by the professor's action and hurriedly pointed underground.

"There is a dedicated power plant a few blocks away.

The wires were subsequently buried in underground pipelines.

This is the handiwork of the General Electric Company and the municipal government.

The boss said, this is called the municipal power grid."

Mendeleev stood under that dazzling white light, looking at the surrounding New York citizens who were gradually getting used to continuing their walks, an indescribable emotion surging in his heart.

"Alas~ We were wrong."

The Russian chemical giant turned his head, looking at his two colleagues beside him with a tone revealing a sense of powerlessness.

"The salons in Europe are still mocking America as a cultural wasteland that only knows how to make money, but it seems they haven't seen through the essence of this country at all.

They might not be as profound as us in the derivation of basic theories, but they possess the most terrifying application ability in the world."

Mendeleev pointed at the electric arc lamp above his head and at the steel buildings in the distance.

"I completely agree with this! Those formulas and theories we wrote down on paper in the laboratory, things we thought would take fifty years to realize—in this place, they are being forcibly turned into real machines and commodities by Mr. Argyle using capital and execution!"

Helmholtz fell silent; Mendeleev was right.

The Old World admired itself in the ivory tower of theory, while the New World had already turned theory into a roaring engine.

This psychological gap and shock caused these masters standing at the peak of academia to generate anticipation for tomorrow evening's banquet.

They urgently wanted to communicate with their peers, and even more so, deeply understand the Argyle Family that was manipulating all of this.

Meanwhile, the news that an academic banquet would be held at the Astor Hotel tomorrow night had already spread rapidly to every corner of New York.

In some cheap motels and cafes in this city, those European scholars who had crossed the ocean at their own expense to rush to America in advance could sit still no longer.