War does not end the moment victory is declared. It only truly ends when the enemy has completely lost the ability and will to resist.
By the third week of the two-front war launched by Argyle & Co., Silas Croft's business life had been utterly dismantled.
This morning, Mr. Gable strode into the Argyle office. His face was no longer worried but alight with pure, theatrical schadenfreude, as if he had just watched a spectacularly good show.
"Argyle, I just came from Five Points," he announced, barely through the door. "My goodness, you should have seen the scene!"
Felix, reviewing Catherine's sales data, looked up. "Mr. Croft, any new developments?"
"He's finished. Completely, utterly finished," Gable described vividly. "Early this morning, his last inventory sold out. He pushed his broken cart to Finn's workshop, desperate for a new batch of cans. But Finn, that old fox, just as you taught him, threw up his hands and said his production capacity for the next three months was fully booked by a big Philadelphia order!"
"I imagine Mr. Croft's expression was quite something," Felix smiled faintly.
"It was more than something! He was stunned speechless, standing in the street like a puppet whose strings had been cut." Gable imitated the scene, his voice rising in excitement. "Then came the fury. He stormed into Finn's workshop, smashed what he could, and cursed that damned 'Iron man Stew' that appeared out of nowhere, accusing that 'bastard company' of using schemes to cut off his supply!"
Croft would never know who his true enemy was until the end.
"What happened then?" Catherine asked, leaning forward.
"Then?" Gable slapped his thigh. "When he had nothing left to smash, he sat at the entrance of the workshop and wailed! Like a toddler! After crying himself out, he took the last few coins he had and went to a tavern. When I left, he was already passed out from drinking, thrown onto the side of the road like a dead dog."
A competitor who dared challenge the market order had exited the stage in the most pathetic way imaginable. The smile on Felix's face, however, slowly vanished. He felt no sense of triumph.
"Catherine," he spoke, his tone suddenly devoid of emotion. "Go find him. Propose an acquisition plan to him."
"Acquisition?" Catherine was stunned. Even Mr. Gable was puzzled. "Argyle, he has nothing left! A broken workshop, a pile of scrap metal, what's worth acquiring?"
"He still has three things that are very useful to us," Felix held up three fingers, cold and deliberate.
"First, his production equipment, crude but usable. We buy it back, either for research, or simply to sell as scrap iron, ensuring no one else picks it up cheaply."
"Second, his customer list. These are New York's lowest class, the most price-sensitive customers. I need to know who they are and where they are. These people, in the future, will all be loyal users of 'Argyle Red Label'."
"Third, and most importantly," a cold glint flashed in Felix's eyes, "I want to buy him out as a person. I want him to sign a legally binding agreement, ensuring that he, and his immediate family, will never engage in any industry related to food processing and sales within New York State for the next twenty years."
The temperature in the office seemed to drop several degrees. This was not just defeat; it was a thorough, root-and-branch commercial annihilation. Felix wanted to uproot his opponent, burn him to ashes, and sprinkle salt on the earth to ensure he would never be reborn.
"How much money should I give him?" Catherine's voice was dry.
"Two hundred dollars. Cash," Felix replied. "Tell him it's from an anonymous investor who saw his 'potential.' This money is enough for him to pay off all his debts, buy a train ticket to the West, and start a new life. This is his only, and last, chance. He will accept it."
Catherine picked up her briefcase and calmly walked out, understanding this was the "dirty work" she, as a manager, was now expected to carry out.
That afternoon, Catherine returned, holding a signed agreement with Croft's scribbled signature and a set of workshop keys.
"He didn't hesitate, sir," she reported. "When I placed the two hundred dollars cash in front of him, he cried. He said it was an angel sent by God to save him."
"Very good." Felix locked the agreement in the safe. "Jones, take men to clean up that workshop. Keep the usable equipment; dispose of the rest. Miller, confirm Mr. Croft boards the westbound train."
After dealing with Croft's "legacy," Felix kept Gable and Catherine in the office.
"Now, the trouble with Croft is resolved. The 'ghost' used to fight him should also disappear."
"You mean… 'Iron Man Stew'?" Gable asked, dismayed.
"Yes." Felix nodded. "Starting tomorrow, we will officially cease all production and sale of 'Iron Man Stew.' Its historical mission is complete. A brand associated with 'cheap' and 'low quality' from its inception will never turn itself around."
"Now, it's time for our protagonist to make a re-entry."
He looked at Catherine: "Draft a letter in my personal name, addressed to all consumers who ever purchased Croft's canned goods or 'Iron Man Stew'."
"The general content is: 'Dear Customer, We regret to learn that you may have recently purchased some canned food not produced by Argyle & Co. We respect your choice, but we are more concerned about your health. To allow you and your family to personally experience what truly safe and delicious canned food is like, we sincerely invite you, with this letter, to redeem two cans of our proud 'Argyle Standard Red Label' beef stew for free at any authorized Argyle retail store.' "
A fierce light flickered in Felix's eyes. "We not only need to reclaim the market, we need to win people's hearts in the most generous and magnanimous way. I want every citizen of New York City to understand that the name 'Argyle' represents not just deliciousness, but also responsibility and assurance."
Catherine looked at Argyle, her complex emotions, admiration, reverence, and awe, solidifying into complete trust.
"Go do it," Felix urged. "This war should end. After cleaning up the battlefield, we have a broader world to conquer."
A month after Silas Croft boarded the train west, a silent yet earth-shattering revolution had transformed New York's canned food market.
This afternoon, Felix visited Mr. Gable's grocery store, his best barometer for the market's pulse.
"Felix! You busy man, you finally have time!" Gable poured him a full glass of beer, his face beaming.
"How did you manage to make all of New York obsessed with your canned food!" Gable excitedly waved his arms. "Your 'free exchange' event almost burst my store! I've never seen so many people, holding letters, lining up, just to exchange for your two free cans!"
"But did they come back to buy later?" Felix asked.
"More than just come back!" Gable slapped his thigh. "Before, I had to talk myself hoarse to sell ten cans a day. Now, I don't have to say anything at all, and your 'Red Label' can sell a hundred cans! A hundred! And, the most interesting part is the way customers greet each other now."
Gable mimicked a woman's high-pitched voice: "'Oh, darling, are you still buying those lead-containing cans? Stop feeding them to your children!' 'Oh my goodness, of course not! I only buy Argyle now, haven't you seen that shield logo? That's what's safe!'"
"You won, Felix," Gable concluded sincerely. "You didn't just sell canned food; you taught all the housewives in New York a lesson about food safety. Now they only recognize your 'shield.'"
Just then, a man in a crisp suit, carrying a briefcase, walked in.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Felix Argyle?"
"That's me, and you are?"
"My name is Goodwin, and I'm from New York Bank." The man handed over a business card. "Mr. Argyle, our Bank President has noticed your company's recent... commercial activities."
Goodwin continued, pushing up his glasses. "We've noticed that over the past month, dozens of businesses, including Mr. Tilford's trading company, have been depositing large and stable amounts of funds into your company's account daily. This amount has already attracted the attention of our headquarters. Our analysts believe Argyle & Co. Foods is currently the most promising industrial company in all of New York."
He offered "deeper financial cooperation, providing you with larger commercial loans for your next expansion or offering stable investment channels for your company's idle funds."
Felix took the card, his tone unchanged. "I appreciate your bank's kind offer, Mr. Goodwin. However, my company's cash flow is currently quite ample, and there is no immediate need for a loan. But I would be happy to visit your Bank President Harrison another day and make friends with him."
Gable watched the banker retreat, looking at Felix as if he were a marvel. "My goodness... even the bank is actively coming to you to offer money. Felix, you truly are a big shot now."
The evening meeting was held in the now significantly expanded office.
"Alright, everyone, speak up," Felix said, sitting at the head of the table.
Bill reported that all quality meat sources were under exclusive contract, and procurement costs had dropped another half-cent. Jones reported that the two-shift system was running smoothly, with daily output stabilized at 3,200 cans and a defect rate of less than five per thousand. Miller confirmed the factory was "impregnable."
Everyone's gaze finally focused on Catherine.
Catherine adjusted her glasses and opened the thick ledger. Her voice was like a celebratory bell. "Sir, and everyone. I announce the financial data for Argyle & Co. Foods for the last full operating month."
"Total sales: eighteen thousand six hundred forty dollars."
"Total cost expenditure, including raw materials, production, operations, payroll, and expansion costs: ten thousand three hundred twenty dollars."
"This month, the company achieved a pre-tax net profit of... eight thousand three hundred twenty dollars."
When the number came out, even those who had anticipated success gasped. In one month, they had earned wealth a wealthy family might take a lifetime to accumulate.
"Very good." Felix's face showed the most relaxed smile he'd had in a while. "Everyone has worked hard. This month's bonus will be doubled on top of the original amount."
After the cheers subsided, Catherine stayed behind. "Sir, eight thousand dollars a month. One year ago today, you were still in that dark basement, worrying about your first order of a few tens of dollars."
"I remember, Catherine," Felix said, looking out at the city lights. "But I also remember what I told myself."
"What did you say?"
"This is just the beginning."
Felix's gaze turned south, towards the direction shrouded in the clouds of war. "When a person has so much money they can't spend it all, money is no longer the goal. It becomes a tool that allows you to achieve greater goals."
"So what is your next goal?"
"My next goal," Felix smiled, "is a super-large client, hundreds of times bigger than the entire New York City."
His crucial initial accumulation was complete. His factory, team, brand, and cash flow were all ready. It was time to knock on the door that would truly make his career soar.