110: Chapter 110 A Historical Choice: Powerful Families Take Sides

Samuel Astor picked up the small square from the sandalwood box and placed it in his palm, turning it over and over for a few seconds before slowly taking off his reading glasses and turning to face both sides of the long table.

"Is the information you received the same?"

Jacob Rothschild nodded slightly, not answering immediately, but instead using his fingertips to slowly push the intelligence summary—which bore annotations from Director of Intelligence Alan Holt—a short distance across the table.

"My intelligence is not as detailed as Rockefeller III's, but the direction is the same."

"It wasn't us who abducted the Prince Dao Dun Fourth Prince; it was the Crane Family."

William Vanderbilt V added in a low voice, turning over a corner of his encrypted tablet to display a remark page sent through internal military intelligence channels:

"Same here."

"Not detailed, but it points to the same name."

Samuel Astor slammed the lid of the sandalwood box shut with a sharp "clack," braced his fists against the edge of the table, and stood up abruptly.

His well-maintained face, flushed with deep fury against the backdrop of indigo walnut wood, was, for once, completely devoid of its usual mask of composure.

"This is an affront to heaven!!"

"A bunch of stinking outsiders who fled famine in Germany to America, running to Washington to beg for food!!"

"They don't know when they're well off—trying to act big when they're nothing but imposters!!"

"How dare they impersonate the Deep State! How dare they impersonate us!"

"And they even dared to capture Aliens! And the one they captured is a noble Alien Fourth Prince!!"

Samuel Astor's chest heaved violently; the composure of the old-school gentleman was nowhere to be found at this moment.

He rubbed his temples with his fingers, forcing himself to calm down from his rage.

The other four people present did not interrupt.

They understood Samuel; when this old aristocrat got angry, it was best to let him vent it all at once—only after he had burned himself out could they discuss serious matters.

Rockefeller III was waiting for that serious matter.

He moved the encrypted tablet that Samuel had pushed aside back in front of him, tapped his left index finger, which wore a jade ring, against the desktop three times, and waited until everyone's gaze was focused on him before speaking.

His tone was unhurried, as steady as when he was stating the intelligence earlier, but every word seemed to have been weighed before being released.

"Those Jewish Financial Groups are certainly detestable, but the immediate priority right now is not settling scores with them."

"It is about how we should make our choice."

Samuel looked up at him; the deep crease between his brows left by his reading glasses had not yet fully smoothed out, but his tone had dropped from the earlier rage to a calm scrutiny:

"You are right."

"But what is the basis for the choice? Make the direction clear first."

Rockefeller III crossed his hands on the desktop and scanned the faces of everyone present.

"The reason we can be the top aristocrats of America and be able to cover the sky with one hand in this land is not because of good luck, nor because we have a lot of money."

"It is because all of our ancestors made the right choices at critical historical junctures."

He looked at Samuel first.

"Samuel, your Astor Family, after the shots were fired at Lexington, did not hesitate to break away from the British military camp and bet the family's destiny on General George Washington."

"The stake of that choice was the entire family's assets."

"You won the bet, which is why your Astor Family has enjoyed two hundred years of glory."

Then he turned to Isabelle DuPont.

"Isabelle, your DuPont family fled from France to the other side of the Atlantic and built the first gunpowder factory in America on the banks of the Delaware River."

"When the Civil War broke out, you could have sold gunpowder to both sides, helping whoever won, but you chose to stand with Lincoln and used your entire production capacity to supply the Union Army."

"In every brick and tile of the post-war reconstruction, there is the gunpowder ash of your DuPonts."

He turned to William Vanderbilt V.

"William, your Vanderbilt family."

"Cornelius Vanderbilt started out in New York Harbor with a single sailboat."

"Everyone said that railways and shipping were two unrelated paths, but he chose to take the money earned from shipping and dive headfirst into railways, forcing the New York Central Railroad to connect the entire East."

"That choice allowed your family to monopolize American shipping and railways for half a century."

Finally, he looked at Jacob Rothschild.

"Jacob, your Rothschild family."

"When Napoleon blockaded the European continent, your branch in Frankfurt was almost crushed to pieces, but you chose to lean towards Britain, raising military funds for the Duke of Wellington's army through smuggling trade."

"Without that step, there would be no global financial network of the entire Rothschild empire later on."

Rockefeller III uncrossed his hands, poured himself half a glass of water, but didn't drink it, just set it aside.

"Choice is everything."

"It is not wealth, not inheritance, not titles."

"It is having the courage to make the choice when it is time to do so, and the vision to make it correctly."

"Our ancestors all placed the right bets at their respective crossroads."

"That is why we can sit in this room today."

After he finished speaking, there was a brief silence in the study.

The warm yellow halo cast by the crystal chandelier onto the walnut long table overlapped with the spread-out photos of Alien wreckage and satellite imagery, synthesizing these things that would never normally be placed on the same table into a rather oppressive contrast.

Isabelle DuPont's hands, which had been crossed on her lap, moved slowly to the edge of the table; her expression was calm, but her eyes never left Rockefeller III.

Jacob Rothschild's long, slender hands separated to rest on the intelligence folder before him, and he leaned back against his chair, exhaling a barely perceptible breath.

William Vanderbilt V took back the whiskey glass he had pushed aside, and although he didn't drink, his fingers scraped gently against the rim of the glass.

Samuel Astor kept his gaze fixed on that Alien storage card for a full few seconds, then looked up to stare directly at Rockefeller III, without any preamble, his tone hard and determined:

"Since you've given such a thorough history lesson, then where are the options for today's multiple-choice question?"

Rockefeller III nodded slightly, used his fingertips to push the glass of water in front of him to the side, and used the walnut table as a makeshift podium, his tone unhurried:

"I am very fond of a saying from Mencius: 'The virtue of a superior man ceases to be felt after five generations.'"

"The grace our ancestors secured for us has almost run out by today."

"Now, it is our turn to make a choice again."

He lifted his gaze from the table, his eyes sweeping over everyone's face.

"It won't be long before the million-strong Alien fleet from Zeta Star descends upon Earth."

"At that time, Zeta Star, Moth Star, the Deep State of Jewish Financial Groups backed by Moth Star, Biden's American government, and all other countries on Earth that can still stand, will all struggle for power on the same chessboard."

"On that chessboard, we are not necessarily the chess players."

"We might not even have a seat."

"We must choose which side to stand on."