At the auditorium entrance, a massive poster was on display.
It had been brought from Richmond the day before—Lynchburg simply didn't have the technology for such large-format printing.
Leo had spent a long time finding the right print shop, and now it all felt worth it.
Many people stood before the poster, praying to the image of Desmond.
The photo had been taken by James during an interview.
Desmond was wrapped in bandages, holding a steel helmet in one hand and a medical kit in the other.
His eyes were filled with determination and compassion—truly a striking image.
Everyone in line held a newspaper in hand—today's paper was the ticket to attend the speech.
Next to the entrance stood a donation box from the Seventh-day Adventist Church.
A sign read:
"All proceeds from this event will go toward supporting Lynchburg's brave wounded soldiers."
Naturally, Leo didn't need to wait in line.
He followed a nun into the auditorium, which was already nearly full.
Father Lesterwen, one of the event's organizers, was exceptionally busy.
He was at the front row, offering individual prayers for each disabled WWII veteran seated there. The atmosphere was reverent and bustling.
"Leo?"
Turning around, Leo saw Lynchburg party elder and real estate tycoon David striding toward him in a flashy white suit, surprise etched across his face.
Without waiting for Leo to speak, David rudely said:
"Looks like you didn't take my advice seriously. The time for playing games is over.
You're a veteran—even if you didn't earn much credit, that doesn't mean you should be sneaking around like a petty thief."
Leo frowned.
He took a step forward, towering over the shorter David, and said coldly:
"Listen, David. You've got one chance to explain the reason for your slander.
If you don't, I promise—you'll remember what it felt like to be a kid getting smacked around."
Leo's imposing presence forced David to instinctively step back.
But perhaps realizing how humiliating that looked, David stepped forward again, trying to stare Leo down.
"Don't think I don't know what you're up to.
You found out a bunch of town elites would be here today, and you're planning to take advantage of the blackout during the speech—just like the good old days—lifting some wallets and making a run for it!"
His voice wasn't quiet.
People nearby began to frown and cast suspicious glances at Leo.
People are visual creatures.
Compared to the well-dressed David, Leo's worn military uniform made him look wildly out of place.
Leo instantly understood the problem.
Emily had bought him several proper outfits in Richmond, but today he'd deliberately worn his old uniform—because he had something important to do.
There was no point arguing with David.
"David, given my past, I'll let this baseless accusation slide—this time.
But there won't be a second.
If we ever meet again, we won't be friends.
I came here today to listen to the speech.
If you still value the friendship we once had, retract what you said and stop slandering me without cause."
Leo chose to give him a chance—a gesture of respect for the past.
And only for this town.
His words were icy.
David instinctively looked down and took two steps back.
Then he caught himself—why was he backing down again?
Glancing around, he thought: Is he really going to hit me in front of everyone?
Anger flared from the shame of retreating, and David raised his voice:
"You came to hear the speech?
Ha! Leo, didn't you know this first session is invitation only?
You're just the son of a lumberjack—what right do you have to be here?"
Leo's brow twitched.
His fists itched—but this wasn't the place for it.
"I'm a soldier.
Isn't it reasonable to be invited?
And the speaker's just a farmer's son too—why shouldn't a lumberjack's son come and listen?"
"Hah! Only soldiers with merit were invited.
What merit do you have?
Don't argue, Leo.
I'll be watching you—you won't steal a single dime today!"
David was shouting now, his voice carrying over the crowd.
Some people began nodding, approving his righteous indignation.
David felt triumphant.
For a moment, he forgot the hideous pockmarks on his face.
He saw himself as a divine judge, passing verdict on his rival under the watchful gaze of the people.
"Leo! What's going on here?"
At that moment, Father Lesterwen approached, led by the nun, his face stern.
"Nothing, Father.
Just ran into an old acquaintance," Leo replied calmly.
"My child, if you need me to put him in his place, just say the word,"
the priest whispered as they walked inside.
Wise with age, Father Lesterwen had arrived late but immediately grasped what had happened.
Leo shook his head.
There was no need—his mere presence had already humiliated David.
No point slapping more faces, especially since some of these bystanders might be future clients.
Guilt was more useful—it made it easier to name your price later.
Besides, Leo lived by the words of a great man:
Make lots of friends, and as few enemies as possible.
With the issue behind them, Father Lesterwen smiled and whispered:
"Leo, thanks to your article, the hall is packed.
Five hundred seats, all filled!
Dean Carter had objected to the invitation-only format, saying no one would come hear a soldier speak.
Clearly, he underestimated Desmond's influence.
In fact, Carter just asked Desmond to give two more talks!
And this time, it wasn't because of orders from the church headquarters—hah!"
Even more satisfying to the priest, attendance at the church had surged in the last three days—young people especially.
Clearly, Father Lesterwen had long been displeased with Carter, the semi-independent dean.
Seeing him proven wrong left the old man giddy with joy.
"It's all for Desmond.
And you've already given me the greatest help.
Without your support, my real estate company wouldn't even be off the ground this year,"
Leo said sincerely.
Father Lesterwen felt proud of Desmond—and proud of Leo, too.
In these few days, he had come to deeply admire Leo's talent, decisiveness, loyalty, and humility.
He now viewed Leo as a junior equal to Desmond himself.
"Desmond told me you plan to apply to university?
Come, let me introduce you to Dean Carter. It'll help."
Carter, the scholarly dean of the religious college, was tall and thin, radiating academic energy.
At the moment, he was deep in conversation with none other than Patrick, who had just returned from hunting in his gear.
A true American politician always shows up wherever the spotlight shines.
Clearly, Mayor Patrick was very competent.
"Patrick, Carter, this is Leo—one of our town's brightest young men.
He's Desmond's friend and the author of the Desmond series in the Lynchburg Daily,"
Father Lesterwen introduced.
Before Leo could shake hands with Carter, Patrick stepped in and gave him a familiar hug.
Then, turning to Carter, he said:
"This is my goddaughter Emily's boyfriend.
You know Emily, right?"
The casual conversation of these four drew the attention of many in the crowd.
After all, any young man who could laugh and chat comfortably with three of the Lynchburg Seven clearly wasn't ordinary.
Among the onlookers was none other than Andy Jones, owner of Jones Real Estate—the largest real estate company in Lynchburg.