Invasion of America

Chapter 94 Stock Market Crash
After leaving the funeral, Diaz drove back to the Department of Homeland Security on Nebraska Avenue. He was troubled by the hypocritical mourning and empty speeches at the funeral.

Concealing the "excess deaths" was not something he, a senior intelligence analyst, could decide.

This is an order from the White House, from the same president who rants on social media all day long.

His Excellency the President is now busy promoting personal idol worship. There is constant applause during his congressional report, and the White House website releases "victory" news every day. He can exaggerate the smallest things into "historic achievements."

In this atmosphere, who dares to speak out as a whistleblower? Who dares to question the government's decisions? Anyone who dares to do so will probably end up in heaven with Thomas of the Efficiency Department.

The White House actually knows everything, but they chose the most stupid way - issuing a death order, not allowing anyone to discuss the government's mistakes, and adopting an "ostrich mentality."

Of course, the outbreak cannot be concealed, and the "excess deaths" will definitely be exposed.

Now, US intelligence agencies are desperately trying to find a way out of this storm. The best way, of course, is to find a scapegoat.

Is there any need to find it? Of course it’s “Todai”!

The Eastern superpower has developed biological weapons to exterminate humanity, and now the disease has spread to America. We must accuse them, demand compensation, and punish them on behalf of God!
Mobilizing the propaganda machine to make funerals into celebrations might even incite populism and increase support rates.

Diaz had already thought of it and had a ready-made suspect who could take the blame - Zhou Qingfeng, the president of "Holy Light".

"The prerequisite is to catch that kid."
-
While Dias was deep in thought, his phone suddenly vibrated. He looked down and saw a short message from Monica:
"The latest internal topic in the political and business circles: how to find a safe 'pandemic refuge'."

"What?!" Diaz's pupils suddenly contracted. He stared at the screen of his mobile phone and read the simple two sentences several times.

The word "shelter" exploded in his mind like a bombshell. A chill ran down his back, and fine beads of sweat oozed from his forehead.

"This is not a good time to discuss this topic." He murmured softly.

Shelter? What does this mean? It means distrust of American society and economy! It means that some people have begun preparing for the worst!
But now that the Holy Emperor is in power, the seas are peaceful and the rivers are clear, where does the difficulty come from? Where does the crisis come from? Who dares to spread such unsettling remarks?
Dias immediately called his subordinates and said in a hurried and stern voice: "Immediately monitor all media channels, especially the Internet!
Not a single word about the 'sanctuary'!"

On the other end of the phone, the subordinate's voice sounded somewhat helpless: "Sir, we have checked, and there is no discussion about the 'sanctuary' on the Internet.

This topic seems to be circulated privately only in certain small circles. They even have their own private social app, which is difficult for us to access.

Diaz's heart sank. This was over. This was a discussion among powerful people, and there was no way to stop it.

At this moment, Monica sent another message: "A group of people related to 'Holy Light' are selling their assets.

For example, Jeff Connolly, chairman of Pioneer Holdings, is selling his stocks and even his mansion in Miami.

Judging from bank transaction records, he was also frantically selling US dollars, buying gold, and even using Europe's offshore financial centers to exchange funds into RMB.

"Is this guy crazy? How can he be so sure that the United States is finished?" Diaz cursed softly, sliding his fingers quickly on the tablet to pull up Jeff Connolly's detailed transaction records.

The data on the screen crawled like cold snakes, revealing a disturbing truth.

Sure enough, Jeff not only sold off his stocks and real estate, but even put his luxury yacht in Miami up for sale.

What shocked Diaz even more was that Jeff had already booked a flight to the University of the East. This series of actions was clean and smooth, without any hesitation.

Dias's finger slid quickly across the screen, bringing up a list of people associated with Jeff.

Similar operations are common in Miami's wealthy circles - selling assets, seeking refuge, and even fleeing directly to the "University of the East".

These wealthy people who usually look glamorous and bright are now like a group of wild beasts that have smelled danger, scrambling to escape from their collapsing nests.

"What are these people doing? Fleeing?"

However, before Diaz had time to investigate further, another piece of news made him feel uneasy - the "stock gods" in Congress were also selling stocks in large quantities.

These political elites who usually call the shots are now using their privileges to frantically sell off their assets, trying to preserve their wealth before the collapse.

"Panic, trampling panic." Dias suddenly felt extremely powerless. This was not something he could interfere with.

The White House's 'ostrich' policy is very effective. The grassroots people are unaware of it and continue to chant 'MAGA' until their death. However, it is the supporters around him who betray the "yellow-haired" president.

"No one blew the whistle, but the whistle was heard throughout America."
-
An unexpected but reasonable situation occurred - the virus apocalypse has not yet arrived, but the stock market crash broke out first.

Capital is risk-averse and extremely sensitive.

When the first informed person tries to flee, a group of people will be unable to hold back and run away. Then the global financial market will experience an avalanche and fall into chaos in an instant.

The U.S. stock market was the first to be hit, with the Dow Jones Industrial Average and the S&P 500 falling sharply like kites with broken strings.

In the trading hall of Wall Street, the once bustling crowd is now silent, with only the red numbers constantly jumping on the electronic screen reminding people that a disaster is unfolding.

It's not just the United States; Europe, Asia, and even emerging markets are all affected.

Panic spread like a plague, and investors rushed to sell stocks, trying to save their last bit of assets before the crash.

Zhou Qingfeng's eyes fell on the mobile phone screen, and news push notifications popped up one after another, all about the stock market crash.

Just then, a message from Jeff Connelly popped up.

"Victor, thank you for letting me know in advance. I made a killing shorting multiple stock indices. Including the $800 million in your account, the profit was over 30 percent by the close of today's market."

Zhou Qingfeng was at a loss whether to laugh or cry.

The $1.5 billion originally won from the lottery has now dropped to less than $1 billion after various investments and expenses.

However, the money was earned back in just one day.

However, the two major stock indexes on Wall Street were directly halted on the same day, and the market value loss exceeded two trillion US dollars.

All investors were pessimistic about the future economy, and the scale of this stock market crash far exceeded everyone's expectations.

Jeff's message wasn't over yet: "Victor, how is the construction of your shelter going? I have some friends who don't want to leave the United States and would like to inquire about your shelter. If necessary, they are willing to pay for a space."

Zhou Qingfeng replied: "I have indeed made some preparations for the outbreak, but I do not plan to sell shelter places to the public."

"Why?" Jeff reminded him, "You can take advantage of this opportunity to make a fortune. Maybe you can sell a room for $100,000."

Zhou Qingfeng scoffed at this. He was currently letting Gray Shark go on a shopping spree in the market, and at the same time he had arranged dozens of shelters of varying sizes.

Some refuges are just cabins in the forest, while others are cruise ships on the sea. But these are not for making money.

"If you have a friend in need, I can help set up a shelter, such as a wooden house that is isolated from the world but has enough living supplies for a family to take shelter for a short time.

As for the cost, it’s not something that can be solved with $100,000.”

"Oh, forget it. The cost-effectiveness of this simple wooden house is too low." Jeff's mood couldn't be better at the moment.

Being able to avoid the stock market crash before it breaks out makes people feel happy and ecstatic. In contrast, his "friend circle" is full of people wailing in misery.

Some people went bankrupt almost instantly, while Jeff himself held a lot of cash, waiting for the stock market crash to pass and then acquiring high-quality assets at extremely low prices.

"I have booked a flight to 'Todai' and am waiting at the airport. A dozen or so friends will be joining me.

Everyone thought their assets were safely secured, and they planned to take advantage of the stock market crash to rest for a while and find a safe place to take refuge. Jeff's voice message was filled with unconcealed pride.

"Victor, aren't you leaving?"

"No, I still have some work to finish." Zhou Qingfeng replied.

"That's a shame. I plan to meet up with Kelly and visit the Electric Flight factory. If necessary, I'll increase my investment."

Being able to safely avoid a stock market crash was enough to make Jeff extremely proud for the rest of his life. His happiness lasted until the plane took off, and then he sent a message to Zhou Qingfeng, cursing.
"Victor, why did 'Todai' suddenly suspend flights between China and the US? Do you have a way for me to go to 'Todai'? There must be space in your shelter."
-
Zhou Qingfeng stayed in Mrs. Grey's country villa for three consecutive days and witnessed the collapse of a superpower with his own eyes.

During these three days, the world outside the villa seemed to be torn apart by an invisible hand, while the villa remained eerily calm.

With the help of Mrs. Grey's network of connections, Zhou Qingfeng successfully brought down Diaz - to be precise, he brought down the department to which Diaz belonged, the government to which the department belonged, and the country controlled by the government.

Bringing down Diaz would just be a side effect.

At that moment, Zhou Qingfeng suddenly didn't have to worry about the Department of Homeland Security. Because of the stock market crash, almost half of the American people were affected, and the US government itself was almost overwhelmed.

"Have you sold your stocks, bonds, etc." Zhou Qingfeng sat on the sofa in the living room, holding a cup of warm black tea in his hand, his eyes casually scanning the TV screen.

No matter which channel you turned to, you were bombarded with stock market reports. The financial markets had suffered a devastating blow, with the stock market halt dominating all the headlines.

"I've already sold it." Mrs. Grey sat in the armchair across from him, staring at the TV screen with a cold expression, and said with emotion: "I never thought that this collapse started with me."

"Don't overestimate yourself. This collapse has nothing to do with you. At most, you just gave it a slight push." ​​Zhou Qingfeng responded coldly.

"Thank you for your comfort, it really worked." Mrs. Grey smiled self-deprecatingly. She was wealthy, but most of her assets were invested in the financial market.

At this moment, looking at the red numbers constantly jumping on the TV, her mood was extremely complicated.

If it weren't for Zhou Qingfeng's warning, she would never have been able to sell her assets in time. She would have gone bankrupt overnight in her sixties, her house would have been taken away by the bank, and she would have been left on the streets.

"Victor, what are your assets?" The old lady looked up. She knew the young man before her was wealthy, but she didn't know exactly how much.

"I don't know, I never cared about it." Zhou Qingfeng shrugged, "But a few days ago, I provided a consulting fee to Congressman Harrison.

The other party suggested that I use bank funds to invest in the U.S. stock market.

I don't understand the stock market, so I asked someone to help me. I just received news that the person who helped me shorted the US stock market, and my assets increased by at least 30%.

Zhou Qingfeng paused and continued, "But it was Congressman Harrison who took my money. God bless him. He should have received the news in advance."

"Harrison Alvin of the Senate?" The old lady frowned, as if recalling something.
"It seems he was hospitalized a few days ago and may not have had the opportunity to sell his financial assets.

People like him wouldn't manage their own assets, but rather hand them over to professional investment institutions. If the investment institutions had been slow to react, he would have gone bankrupt as well."

"Bankruptcy?" Zhou Qingfeng's focus was obviously not on "bankruptcy".

When he learned that Congressman Harrison was ill and hospitalized, his first reaction was - Damn, did Marcos have dinner with that congressman a few days ago?
Could it be contagious? Or...
You should know that there are also super carriers of the "X" virus. After being infected, they have no symptoms and are naturally immune, but they are extremely contagious.

What has Marco been doing these days? He has nothing to do, so he's just wandering around Washington, D.C., like a tourist attraction.

Thinking of this, Zhou Qingfeng couldn't help but call Marco. As the president, he also had to care about the situation of his subordinates.

After the call was connected, Marco's voice was full of energy, even with a hint of joy: "Mr. Zhou, good afternoon."

"Old Ma, how is your health?" Zhou Qingfeng asked directly.

"Me? I'm fine." Marco was clearly puzzled. "Why are you asking that?"

"Well, there's a virus spreading in the United States lately. I wanted to ask you something."

"Ah, I know, I know." Marco's tone suddenly became excited, "I met a lot of Americans in the hotel, and some foreigners stationed in the US.

Everyone vaguely mentioned that an epidemic might have broken out in the United States.

"Alas. I've observed that quite a few people in my hotel have fallen ill for unknown reasons, especially the elderly. But I'm fine. I'm in great shape and I enjoy eating everything."

Zhou Qingfeng was stunned – this was bad. Everyone else was fine, but Marco was fine. Wasn't this the one in a million super-infector?

Lao Ma, Lao Ma, you're still wandering around the US capital?!
(End of this chapter)