I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 165

Chapter 165: Entering the Newspaper Industry?

After breakfast, Charles, as usual, went to the motorcycle factory first, then walked into the tractor factory.

Matthew was talking with his team of mechanics in front of a tank, smiling as he gestured at the tank while speaking.

Charles was relieved to see the lively and cheerful Matthew had returned; he seemed to have forgotten about the leg he had lost.

When Matthew saw Charles and Djoka enter, he smiled and waved at them, hobbling over to greet them.

Charles glanced around and noticed that Matthew only had one crutch. Where was the other one?

"Don't look for it," Matthew chuckled before he reached them. "I left the other one at home. There's no need for two crutches; it's just a burden when working."

Charles grunted in acknowledgment; it seemed that Matthew had adapted to and accepted his current state.

Charles led Matthew aside and spoke seriously. "The task I gave you is important, Matthew."

"I know," Matthew replied, glancing back at the mechanics gathered around the tank. "They are like part of the army!"

Many of these mechanics would go directly to the battlefield. They followed the troops, maintaining and repairing the tanks, sometimes even replacing parts. Without them, the tanks wouldn’t last long.

"That's not what I mean," Charles said flatly. "I heard that Schneider is negotiating with Francis to buy a tractor production line. Also, I know that Schneider has a technical team investigating the Holt company in Britain. They plan to buy the 'Holt 120'."

Matthew's expression immediately grew serious. "Schneider?"

"Yes!" Charles nodded. "Not long ago, I defeated Francis's 'Holt 60' with our 'Holt 75'. One day, if Schneider owns the 'Holt 120', you know what will happen!"

Matthew hummed thoughtfully.

Schneider was not an ordinary opponent; he had substantial funds, and if he also acquired the more advanced 'Holt 120'... defeating Charles’s tractor factory and tanks would be effortless.

If that didn’t work, Schneider could simply copy Charles's tank design and swap in the more powerful 'Holt 120' engine. It would likely outperform Charles’s tanks.

This also held another meaning for Matthew: if one day Charles’s tractor factory collapsed, what would he do? Go back to the motorcycle factory to assemble spokes for tires?

No, he would rather die than return. The tractor factory was his life, his purpose, everything!

"What should we do?" Matthew asked, his gaze firm.

He had made up his mind—no matter who the opponent was, he would make them regret it, and let them know that Matthew was not to be trifled with!

"Engines, Matthew," Charles said. "That’s the heart. The 'Holt 120' has 120 horsepower, while the 'Holt 75' only has 83. That’s the difference!"

Charles deliberately concealed the fact that the 'Holt 120' engine weighed 1.3 tons, whereas the 'Holt 75' weighed about 1 ton.

The horsepower-to-weight ratio of both engines was roughly the same, about 0.9. The 'Holt 120' engine was slightly higher, but not significantly.

But to Matthew, the difference was clear—the "120 horsepower" vs. "83 horsepower."

"I know what to do now!" Matthew nodded. "Improve the engine, give it more horsepower."

"Yes!" Charles added. "Or, if the horsepower remains the same, reduce the weight of the engine. That’s progress too."

Matthew nodded. "I’ll give you a satisfactory answer!"

He turned and walked back to his team, eager to start working. Schneider was not an easy opponent to defeat.

Just as a victorious smile appeared on Charles’s face, unexpectedly, a worker came up and shook his hand. "Charles, I need to talk to you..."

Charles looked and recognized the reporter who had previously infiltrated the students' group to present him with flowers. This time, he had clearly disguised himself as a worker and successfully entered the factory.

Charles couldn’t help but laugh. For the sake of a news scoop, this reporter had turned into a spy.

"Alright," Charles said helplessly. "What do you want to know?"

"No, no!" the reporter clarified. "You misunderstood. I’m not here as a reporter..."

"Then what is it?" Charles asked.

"Your own media, Charles!" the reporter said eagerly. "Have you ever considered owning your own media?"

Charles was taken aback. The reporter’s words seemed to make sense.

Most capitalists owned their own media. For example, the right-wing Le Figaro, or the left-wing Le Petit Journal, Le Journal du Matin, and Le Petit Parisien.

It wasn't just about making money. They weren’t interested in the profits from the press. What they wanted was influence, the power to shape public opinion and use it as a weapon when necessary.

"You’re at the point where you should have your own media," the reporter said, nervously glancing around and speaking faster. "Think about it—your popularity, your prestige, and the merits you’ve built on the battlefield. All of these need to be consolidated through media. Otherwise, the media will slowly deconstruct them and erode them bit by bit. In no time, people will forget who you are!"

Charles nodded slightly in agreement. Before the Battle of Lafox, the newspapers had suddenly turned against him, sowing doubts about him. Even though Charles hadn’t done anything wrong, they had planted seeds of suspicion in the public’s mind.

Had he not achieved victory again and used overwhelming force to crush the conspiracy, he might have been discredited by the media.

"What’s your name?" Charles asked.

"Kobdo!" the reporter said, his face lit up with excitement. "I used to be a military columnist for Le Journal du Matin, but I’ve already resigned!"

Kobdo emphasized this to show his loyalty to Charles. He didn’t need to resign before convincing Charles; now there was no turning back.

However, Le Journal du Matin was a media outlet controlled by Schneider. Could this be...?

Kobdo, perceptive as he was, immediately explained, "No, if Schneider wanted to do something like that, he wouldn’t send one of his reporters!"

Charles found his explanation reasonable. Schneider had many talented people under him, and sending an unfamiliar face wouldn’t make Charles suspicious.

"I’ll consider it, Kobdo!" Charles shook his hand. "How can I contact you?"

Kobdo excitedly handed Charles a business card. "My number’s on it. I’m happy to be of service, sir!"

With that, Kobdo hurriedly left.

Djoka, sensing something was off, stepped forward and asked as he watched Kobdo’s retreating figure, "Who was that?"

"An interesting reporter," Charles answered. "He might just become my editor-in-chief!"

Djoka looked at Charles in shock. Was this what it meant to enter the newspaper industry?

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