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"I know," Morin said calmly into the phone.
"But I didn't actually say it, Mr. Anderson."
"Yes," Anderson replied.
"So I didn't call to scold you, even though you really put us in a difficult position."
Morin was speaking with Anderson.
Not long after the livestream ended, Anderson had called him, directly questioning the subtle implications Morin had dropped at the beginning of the broadcast.
Morin wasn't worried in the slightest.
If one really wanted to nitpick his words, they weren't problematic. At most, they were suggestive.
As long as nothing was stated explicitly, even if both sides understood what he meant, there was no way to hold him accountable.
Given Morin's current identity, objectives, and their cooperative relationship, this was far too trivial to pursue.
After briefly addressing that point, Anderson changed the subject and revealed the real reason for his call.
"It's like this," Anderson said.
"I watched the broadcast as well, so... what you said about hiring the Templar Knights. Is that true?"
"Of course," Morin replied without hesitation.
"Then..." Anderson paused.
"What if we wanted to take action against the other remaining Continental Hotels?"
"As long as they're disruptors of order," Morin said evenly,
"and after a difficulty assessment, if you're willing to pay the corresponding price, the Templar Knights will not refuse."
"Alright," Anderson said.
"As an eager citizen, I would like to hire the Templar Knights to destroy all Continental Hotels."
He deliberately emphasized the words eager citizen.
Naturally, he wouldn't use his real identity or represent the government to place a bounty on the Continental Hotels.
That would be an outright declaration of war against the High Table.
Morin understood clearly.
This wasn't Anderson's personal desire.
Or at the very least, not his personal decision.
It was an order from higher up.
Simply put, the U.S. government had long known that the Continental Hotels were the High Table's greatest threat.
They just couldn't act directly before.
Now, they wanted the Templar Knights to do the dirty work.
"We'll assess the manpower of each Continental Hotel and send you the required fee for each contract," Morin said.
"A rough estimate puts it at no less than several billion dollars."
"As an eager citizen," Morin added lightly,
"I assume you can spare a few billion, Mr. Anderson?"
"Of course," Anderson said, the corner of his mouth twitching as he caught the teasing.
"I just happened to find a few billion dollars by the side of the road."
"I've been wondering what to do with it."
"Perfect," Morin said with a chuckle.
After hanging up, Morin headed to the Continental Hotel and found Winston.
He informed him of the plan to wipe out the remaining Continental Hotels.
"What?"
"Have you lost your mind?"
Winston stared at Morin, disbelief written all over his face.
"Is there a problem?" Morin asked casually, swirling the red wine in his glass.
After a moment of thought, he stood up and poured himself a glass of lukewarm tap water instead.
Much more refreshing.
"I mean..." Winston struggled to organize his words.
"Even if we've temporarily stabilized our position here, isn't it far too reckless to lead people across such long distances to attack the other Continental Hotels?"
"And the High Table won't stop with just one wave of retaliation. There will definitely be more sabotage!"
"If our foundation isn't solid yet, leaving our base on this scale is suicide!"
Winston was clearly anxious.
In his eyes, Morin was getting ahead of himself.
Morin smiled faintly and was about to explain-
Then he paused.
A notification appeared.
His Templar Knight experience points increased by one.
"Do you have a computer?" Morin asked suddenly.
"What?" Winston froze mid-sentence.
"I asked," Morin repeated, his tone slightly urgent,
"do you have a computer?"
"Of course," Winston said reflexively. He brought one over and placed it in front of Morin.
"What do you need-"
"I need to confirm something."
As he spoke, Morin logged into the Templar Knights' internal system.
The public website announced during the broadcast had already been restricted due to overwhelming traffic.
This was a different site.
One accessible only to internal Templar Knights.
Morin went straight to the orders section.
One contract was already marked as [Completed].
"Gilbreth's contract," Morin read softly.
"Contract fee: one million dollars."
A satisfied smile appeared on his face.
His theory was correct.
His plan-
Had been confirmed.
All the public bank accounts belonged to Morin.
All contracts were executed by the Templar Knights themselves.
And in this world, the Templar Knights were founded by Morin.
The Templar Knight profession was broad.
A regular member was a Templar Knight.
But the founder and leader of the Templar Knights-
Was also a Templar Knight.
In another sense, the duties Morin fulfilled and the profits he earned still counted toward his own profession.
Which meant-
As long as contracts were completed and the Templar Knights made money, Morin, as founder and elder, was entitled to a share.
And that share counted as professional income.
Which translated directly into experience points.
This was the plan from the very beginning.
The reason Morin had spent so long in this world.
Why he contacted so many forces.
Why he rebuilt the Templar Knights.
If his only goal had been to advance his class and leave, he could have done so long ago.
He stayed to confirm whether his idea was feasible.
And to prepare for something bigger.
Now that the plan was proven to work-
As long as the Templar Knights continued to exist, Morin would have a near-endless source of experience points.
"I get one ten-thousandth of the rewards from missions completed by other Templar Knights," Morin thought calmly.
"It's small, but it accumulates."
"I need to make the Templar Knights bigger."
"And their foundation unshakable."
"Sir?" Winston called out, watching Morin smile silently.
"Sir? Are you alright?"
Had he gone mad?
"Nothing," Morin replied, snapping back to reality after Winston called him twice.
"Nothing at all."
Even with Morin's mental fortitude, the implications had momentarily overwhelmed him.
The significance of this plan was simply too great.
"So, sir," Winston asked carefully,
"about what we were discussing earlier-"
"It's fine," Morin said, waving his hand.
"You focus on stabilizing the foundation and securing New York."
"I'll personally handle the contract to destroy the other Continental Hotels."
Small contracts weren't worth his full attention.
He could take care of a few in his spare time, but doing them consistently would be a waste.
But the big ones-
The contracts worth billions-
If anyone dared to take those-
Morin would smash their skull in with a wrench.
The kind that kills in one hit.