Billionaire in Kingsman with a Marvel System

Old Smith held the bottle and refilled their glasses before raising his own cheerfully, saying, "Cheers."

"Cheers."

After taking a few sips of whiskey, Stark and William asked, "Are you in charge of the stock market affairs, or should Mr. Smith and I handle it?"

"Of course, it's up to you. After all, your influence in this country is much greater than mine. A total of $600 million short-selling, $200 million each—any problems?" William said. He wasn't about to get involved directly; after all, Terry Benedict was a big shot in Las Vegas.

Let Stark and Smith take the forefront; he would just quietly make money.

Smith said, "Isn't $600 million a bit too little, William? When you strike a snake, you need to strike it dead. Otherwise, if Terry Benedict notices anything, he could retaliate, and he's notoriously vengeful in Las Vegas. No one who caused trouble in his hotel has ever survived."

Old Smith, who appeared to be a kind old man, turned out to be quite ruthless. William just wanted to make money, but Old Smith wanted to take someone's life.

"In this world, anyone could have an accident, but how does that benefit me?" William glanced at Stark. "What do you think, Stark?"

Stark smiled slightly, distancing himself from the situation. "Oh, this has nothing to do with me. I'm just responsible for finding people to watch the stock market. You two can handle the rest. Hehe, with one of you being a casino tycoon and the other a noble from an elite family, I don't think many people can resist you teaming up."

It sounded nice, but Stark didn't want to get his hands dirty. William and Smith smiled and ignored Stark, who was pretending to be neutral. William said to Smith, "I'll deal with Terry, and you handle the Beautiful People's Group. Whether we can swallow the Beautiful People's Group depends on your influence in Las Vegas, Mr. Smith."

"No problem. I know quite a few powerful people. As long as your operation succeeds, I can rally some peers to target the Beautiful People," Smith said excitedly.

"So, what about my reward, Mr. Smith? As the intelligence provider and operation planner, is 30% of the profits too much to ask?"

"William, isn't the stock market and the stolen money enough for you? I have to allocate a significant portion of the profits to this operation. 30% is too much unless you can ensure that Terry Benedict has an accident. Otherwise, we can't completely take over the Beautiful People's Group."

William silently thought about the scale of the Beautiful People's Group. Their market value was around $20 billion. Even with a fire sale, acquiring them would require hundreds of billions in funds.

But William didn't care about that. "Don't forget, your main target isn't money. The Beautiful People Group owns three hotels. If you can bring them down or take them over, you not only eliminate a competitor but also warn those trying to enter Las Vegas. That's more valuable than cash."

After a long contemplation, Smith finally nodded. "If the operation succeeds, and Terry Benedict ends up dead or in serious trouble, we will pay you in three installments, with the first half being $1 billion. However, I hope to exchange it for shares in other companies. Tens of billions in cash would be too much pressure for us."

William thought for a moment before saying, "30% is more than $2 billion, Mr. Smith. If it's shares, then it must be $3 billion."

Smith shook his head. "God, things aren't as simple as you think, William. Even if we can make $10 billion on paper, the actual profit might only be half. To succeed, a lot of people need to be paid off."

"Hehe, that's your problem. Acquiring the three best hotels will earn you several times what you're giving me each year. I'm sure you understand this math, Mr. Smith. Cash $2.5 billion or shares $3 billion. Think about which company's shares you can offer me. If I don't like them, I won't accept shares."

At this point, Stark understood why some people wanted William dead. This greedy young man, not even 20 years old, was too avaricious.

Smith sat on the sofa, thinking even longer this time. He had considered cutting William out and doing it himself, but according to the information he had gathered, this newly wealthy individual was extremely vengeful and ruthless, wiping out opponents at the slightest provocation.

Considering potential future retaliation, Smith shook his head internally. Besides, nothing had started yet, and the three hotels weren't in their hands. Everything was still uncertain. He could deal with it once the prize was secured. If William's methods were less formidable than expected, Smith wouldn't hesitate to cheat him.

"Alright, shares or shares plus cash, William. You're really a greedy hyena, never letting go once you bite," Old Smith paused, then added, "You're nothing like your grandfather. Henry did most things for his country, but you, his heir, don't seem to love your country at all."

"Who loves England?" William thought to himself. When his grandfather Henry was forced to sell his ancestral property, no one helped him. Besides, William's soul wasn't even English.

"Love for England requires money too, Mr. Smith. England didn't care that my four great-grandfathers sacrificed for it when they taxed my family. Even the old king of England's attempt to knight my four great-grandfathers was obstructed. Heh, I don't think I need to love England more. The Devonshire family owes England nothing."

Seeing William's indifferent expression made the English-born Old Smith very sad. He had also bled for England, but in the end, he had to come to America to make a living.

"Sigh, let's not talk about this. Now it's up to you. Whether Stark and I succeed depends on how far you can go."

"It's a small matter. As long as there's money to be made, I don't mind making a deal with Satan. Stark, give me an account. I'll have the money transferred. And you better not pocket my money, or I'll blow up your mansion in Malibu."

"Don't worry, I won't give you the chance. You better take care of yourself and not get killed, leaving a fortune for someone else," Stark taunted.

"Stark, I guarantee that if something happens to me, no one will get my money. I know a guy named Yury Orlov, nicknamed the Lord of War. If I die, I'll convert all my money into ships full of AKs and give them to the barefoot uncles at the Cape of Good Hope for a year of fun. Whether others are unhappy won't be my concern.

I've also set up several revenge funds totaling $1 billion with some organizations. Hehe, anyone who wants to kill me will be visited by assassins worldwide."

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