My Reputation System Makes Me Rich

Chapter 4 Buying Out The Market

Alex leaned back comfortably into the VVIP leather chair. There was no hesitation in his eyes as he stared coldly at Mr. Henderson, who remained frozen, staring at the tablet on the table. "That market won't die if managed by the right hands. Prepare the release deed right now, or I will cancel the payout transfer." Alex spoke with a icy gaze.

Mr. Henderson snapped back to reality. "Y-Yes, sir. I will call the legal team, internal notary, and the former owner of the market within five minutes."

"Make sure everything is cleared without any mistakes," Alex replied without changing his sitting posture.

Mr. Henderson dashed out of the room, panting heavily. Alex closed his eyes briefly in the quiet room. He felt a warm flow from the system responding to his calm composure. The system protected him, ensuring he could wield this money as a weapon without fear of it turning back to cut his own throat.

The conference room door swung open. Mr. Henderson entered, followed by a woman wearing thick glasses carrying a briefcase full of documents, and a stout, middle-aged man in a flashy gray suit. This stout man was Mr. Brandon, the former owner of Greenwood Market who had secretly accumulated tens of billions in bank debt while allowing thugs to oppress the market vendors.

"What is this smell, Mr. Henderson? Your bank's VVIP conference room smells like a filthy market sewer!" Mr. Brandon complained, covering his nose with a silk handkerchief.

"Please watch your language, Mr. Brandon. Please have a seat first," Mr. Henderson attempted to diffuse the situation.

Mr. Brandon's eyes instantly locked onto Alex, who was still sitting calmly in a t-shirt stained with dried blood. "Good grief, is this the crazy beggar you said was going to pay off my billions in debt?" Mr. Brandon asked, pointing at Alex's face with a mockingly loud laugh. "Hey, tramp! Aren't you the laborer who got forcibly kicked out of the back block of the market yesterday?"

"Sir, sit down and sign the release deed right now," Alex answered nonchalantly, staring straight into the stout man's eyes.

"Has this bank completely lost its mind?" Mr. Brandon sneered. "Why are you entertaining a wet-behind-the-ears laborer with a battered face? He clearly can't even afford a bandage for his wounds, let alone pay off a thirteen-billion debt."

"I believe this is a waste of our time, Mr. Henderson," the notary chimed in, eyeing Alex with absolute disgust. "Under legal procedures, the purchasing party must have a verified identity and a plausible financial profile. His appearance clearly fails to meet our banking standards."

"Madam Notary, please just bring out the documents," Mr. Henderson urged, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "Mr. Alex's profile has been officially verified by the bank's core system."

"Verified, my foot!" Mr. Brandon slammed his hand hard onto the glass table. "That's probably just a fake banking app edit on his cheap phone! Listen here, broke tramp. Greenwood Market is not a playground. Go home, wash up, and find a real job so you don't starve to death!"

"Has Mr. Brandon read the payout amount on the release document?" Alex asked, slowly crossing his legs.

"I couldn't care less about that garbage document!" Mr. Brandon barked. "Even if you claim to have cash, that land title still needs my signature as the original owner! And I will never willingly give my signature to a smelly beggar like you!"

"Mr. Brandon, please don't cause trouble here," Mr. Henderson began to panic. "The bank is foreclosing on your asset tomorrow morning. You only need to sign the handover today to settle your bad debt completely!"

"Shut your mouth, Mr. Henderson! Your bank has been harassing me for months, and now you want to hand my market over to this beggar just like that?" Mr. Brandon leaned forward, a sly sneer spreading across his face. "Unless you're willing to pay extra, Tramp."

"Pay extra?" Alex repeated the question evenly.

"Of course! The bank might be satisfied with receiving a thirteen-billion payout, but I am the original owner! Add another five billion directly into my personal account as compensation, and then I'll consider giving you my signature."

"Mr. Brandon, that is illegal extortion!" interjected the notary, who was now fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat.

"This is high-level business negotiation!" Mr. Brandon shot back, turning to look down at Alex once more. "So, what's it going to be? You clearly don't have an extra five billion, do you? In that case, get down under this table."

"Get down?"

"Lick my shoes until they shine, beg me while crying for mercy, and then maybe I'll consider signing out of pity."

"You have zero bargaining leverage in this room, Mr. Brandon," Alex countered in a deadly tone. "Tomorrow morning at eight, the bank's heavy machinery will level your market. The value of your land will shatter to pieces, and your remaining debt will hunt down every single one of your family's assets until you are thoroughly ruined."

"You dare threaten me? I have plenty of backing from city officials!"

"City officials won't save you from a bank foreclosure judgment," Alex cut him off sharply. "And don't think I don't know about your hired thugs who have been shaking down the market vendors every month."

"Oh, so you want to play the hero now?" Mr. Brandon scoffed, laughing mockingly. "They are my security staff! If my business goes under, they will hunt down anyone who dares take over my land!"

"They are nothing more than street dogs barking for your spare change."

"Watch your filthy mouth, Tramp! Daman and his men can snap your neck in a second!"

"Then call him over right now," Alex challenged, remaining entirely composed. "Let's see who actually snaps whose neck today."

"You're truly asking for death!"

"My tens of billions are your only lifeline out of bankruptcy today, Mr. Brandon. Instead of showing gratitude, you're hallucinating that you can extort the very person holding the key to your survival?"

"What the hell do you know about real business, huh?!" Mr. Brandon thumped his broad chest. "Bottom line, transfer an extra five billion to my personal account, or get down on your knees at my feet right now!"

"Mr. Brandon, please sit back down. We need to finalize these legal documents immediately," Mr. Henderson reprimanded, his patience finally wearing thin.

"Shut up! Let this broke laborer learn where his caste truly belongs!" Mr. Brandon roared, his voice booming throughout the room.

Alex drew a slow breath, then stood up from the plush chair. He straightened the collar of his dirty shirt without any rush, completely unfazed by the stout man whose neck veins were bulging with rage.

The conference room instantly fell into a suffocating silence as Alex walked slowly toward the end of the glass table. Mr. Brandon snorted contemptuously, fully convinced the broke youth was finally backing down out of desperation.

"Well, filthy laborer? Hurry up and kiss my shoes now if you want this title deed shifted to your hands!" Mr. Brandon taunted with a deeply patronizing laugh.

Instead, Alex raised the banking tablet and slammed it hard onto the table, causing the screen displaying the twenty-billion balance to light up brightly right in his enemy's face.

"Who the hell do you think you're dealing with, Old Man?"

"W-What are you planning to do, you little brat?"

"Amidst all of your condescending stares, what crazy move should I pull to shut your arrogant mouths and prove my true power at this negotiation table?"