A live stream of someone hand-making a giant white robot attracted the attention of the government,

Across the ocean, in Manhattan, New York.

It was nine o'clock in the morning. The sunlight pierced through the clouds, but it couldn't shine into the chairman's office on the top floor of Pfizer's headquarters.

The Pfizer headquarters is located on the top floor of the building, a vantage point overlooking Wall Street. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the soft morning light reflects off the golden ripples of the Hudson River, creating a scene reminiscent of a painting titled "Power."

But at this moment, in the CEO's office, which is spacious enough to play badminton, a scene that suffocates him is playing on a loop.

A huge projection screen filled the entire wall, playing a loop of a live broadcast clip from the East—a Chinese man named Zhao Tiezui tearing at a piece of braised pork with his mouth dripping with oil.

"It smells fucking good!"

The phrase, spoken in slightly accented Mandarin, accompanied by the English subtitle "So f**king delicious," echoed repeatedly in this luxurious and tranquil office, like resounding slaps to the face of Pfizer's trillion-dollar market capitalization.

"Smells good?" Anderson gulped down a mouthful of liquor, the pungent liquid burning his throat, but he couldn't suppress the rising anger within him. "That's terminal cancer! That's a perforated stomach! How dare he eat braised pork? Why isn't he dead?!"

Anderson stood with his back to the floor-to-ceiling window, swirling an expensive Macallan Lalique glass in his hand. The ice cubes clinked against the glass, but they couldn't hide the slight trembling of his fingers.

"Magic...this must be magic."

Anderson took another gulp of strong liquor, the pungent liquid burning his throat as he tried to suppress the rising chill in his heart. He turned around, staring intently at the screen, his eyes bloodshot, his voice as somber as a wounded lone wolf.

"The human body couldn't possibly complete that level of reconstruction in three minutes. Nanobots, energy conversion—it's all a smokescreen! Like David Copperfield conjuring up the Statue of Liberty—it's all fake!"

He refused to believe it. Or rather, he dared not believe it. If it were true, the goldmine of medicine he stood on, built up over a century, would turn to dust overnight.

"What the hell is Bruce doing? Didn't he realize it was special effects?!"

Anderson grabbed the encrypted satellite phone from the table and roared as he dialed the number.

The phone rang for a long time before being answered. In the background was a noisy commotion of people packing things.

"Bruce! I need you to issue a statement immediately!" Anderson didn't give him a chance to speak, roaring into the microphone, "Tell the media that it's hormones! It's draining your life force! Even if it's a lie like 'the side effect is turning you into a zombie in three years,' make it up! Do you hear me? I need to stabilize the stock price!"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

Then came Bruce Wilson's aged, weary, and even hollow voice.

"It's over, Anderson."

"What did you say?" Anderson was stunned.

"That's God's doing. And we... we're just kids who've spent our whole lives playing in the mud." Bruce's voice was filled with a despair that felt like death. "Stop struggling, save yourself some dignity."

"Beep, beep, beep..."

The call was disconnected.

"Decent? Screw your decentness!" Anderson paused for a second, then furiously slammed the satellite phone, worth tens of thousands of dollars, against the wall.

Parts were scattered everywhere.

He flung open the office door and roared at the chaotic financial traders and public relations team outside: "Where's the PR department?! Are they all dead?! Contact all our media partners immediately and release a press release! Say it's stimulants! It's stimulants! No matter the cost, hold the opening price! Anyone who dares to sell, I'll make sure they never work on Wall Street again!"

However, this once-reliable combination of capital tactics seems to have hit cotton wool today.

Twitter, Facebook, Reddit...

Pfizer's official account had just posted a tweet urging people to "be rational and be wary of unknown risks" when it was immediately flooded with a tsunami of comments.

There was no need for Zero Boundary Technology to intervene; hundreds of millions of netizens spontaneously flooded Pfizer's comment section.

"Beware, my foot! They've already done a backflip, and you're still talking to me about risks?"

"Admit it, you're all a bunch of vampires! You've been selling chemotherapy drugs for decades, and you're not even as good as someone else's bowl of braised pork!"

"Murderer! Give me back my father's life!"

The hashtag #ZeroBoundary# surged to the top of the global trending list within ten minutes, tens of thousands of times more popular than Pfizer. Far from calming public sentiment, the press releases attempting to discredit this life-saving technology actually enraged hundreds of millions of families of cancer patients worldwide who desperately want to survive.

This is public opinion. When the hope of survival is ignited, any attempt to obstruct the light will be burned to ashes by the flames of anger.

9: 29.

There's one minute left before the US stock market opens.

Anderson stood in front of the huge market data display screen, his hands gripping the mahogany desk, his knuckles white from the strain. He watched the pre-market auction data plummet, cold sweat trickling down his temples.

"Stay calm...we can definitely stay calm..." he muttered to himself, pinning his hopes on the Wall Street tycoons he usually called brothers. "The people at Morgan Stanley promised to support the market...and Goldman Sachs won't just watch the sector collapse..."

when--!

9:30. The opening bell rang.

To Anderson, the sound was not as pleasant as usual; instead, it sounded like a church bell tolling.

On the screen, the line representing Pfizeric's stock price showed no struggle, no rebound whatsoever. It was like a bungee jumper whose rope had been cut, drawing a chilling, near-vertical 90-degree green waterfall line right before everyone's eyes. (Note: Here, green is used to represent a sharp drop, following the conventions of domestic readers.)

One minute after the market opened.

It plummeted by 15%.

"Sell orders! Sell orders everywhere!" The lead trader's voice trembled as he stared at the sell orders flooding the screen like blood. "Morgan, Goldman Sachs, Blackstone… all the institutions are selling! They're outselling even faster than retail investors!"

There is no market support.

The moment these capitalists with the keenest sense of smell saw the "Shennong" nanorobot, they had already made their judgment—the market for traditional anti-cancer drugs was gone.

Who would sacrifice themselves for a ship destined to sink, just for the sake of so-called alliance?

Alarms blared throughout the trading hall, and red warning lights flashed wildly.

Anderson's face turned deathly pale, and he slumped into the leather boss's chair that symbolized power, as if his spine had been removed.

"Betrayal...it's all betrayal..."

……

Meanwhile, in Luzhou, China.

Zero Boundary Technology Temporary Command Center.

Unlike the hysterical chaos across the ocean, it was so quiet here that the only sounds were the crisp clicks of keyboards and the hum of servers.

Su Wanqing changed out of her smart business attire and into a black turtleneck sweater, with a slightly oversized blazer draped over it. She sat in the center of the control panel, in front of a dozen screens arranged like a honeycomb, displaying real-time data from global stock markets.

Li Jianguo, wearing a military overcoat, stood in the shadows behind her, looking at this young girl who was usually decisive and efficient, but now acted like a battlefield commander, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes.

This is no longer the student council president who only cares about discipline; she's clearly a lioness on the hunt.

Su Wanqing stared at the Pfizer candlestick chart on the screen, her beautiful phoenix eyes filled with a chilling calmness, devoid of any pity.

"This is the price," she murmured to herself, as if delivering a verdict on those arrogant Westerners.

She looked up and gave her first command of the night into her earpiece, her voice cold and detached.

"The hunt begins."

"Public Relations Department, release the following information: Zero Boundary Technology will reassess its global supply chain system. Any company that is deeply intertwined with Pfizer Group and fails to issue a statement of severance within 24 hours will be placed on Zero Boundary's Level 2 blacklist."

This instruction is more lethal than any short-selling report.

In this night where technology is godlike, whoever can catch the fast train of Zero Boundary Technology will be the darling of the next era; while whoever is blacklisted by Zero Boundary Technology is destined to be swept into the dustbin of history.

In just ten minutes.

What started as a collapse in the pharmaceutical sector quickly escalated into an avalanche across the entire industry chain.

Raw material suppliers and precision instrument manufacturers who had originally wanted to wait and see, in order to please the "new king" from the East, posted emergency announcements on their official websites.

BASF announced that it will suspend the supply of key raw materials to Pfizer until a risk assessment is completed.

Johnson & Johnson Medical: Is reviewing its cross-shareholding agreement with Pfizer.

Siemens: Seeking to recover outstanding payments for equipment from Pfizer and has applied for asset freeze.

The wall fell and everyone pushed.

Anderson stared at the pop-up "Termination of Cooperation" news on the screen, feeling as if daggers were being plunged into his heart.

Pfizer's stock price collapsed, and its vital supply chain was completely severed. This wasn't just a minor injury; it was a complete uprooting.

"No...no!!"

Anderson stared at the alarming figure—a 30% plunge. This was no longer just a matter of market value evaporation; it was on the verge of bankruptcy and liquidation!

9: 45.

"drop--!!!"

A piercing, long blast echoed through the Wall Street trading floor.

Level 1 circuit breaker.

Pfizer's stock price fell too sharply, triggering the exchange's automatic protection mechanism, and trading was suspended for 15 minutes throughout the day.

But this wasn't a life-saving pause; it was a final verdict before death. Panic, like a plague, instantly spread throughout the US stock market. The Dow Jones Industrial Average plummeted, and the Nasdaq turned negative.

Wall Street was in utter despair. The CNBC host, pale-faced and incoherent, shouted into the camera, "The old era is over... That young man from the East buried half of Wall Street in just one night!"

Inside the Zero Boundary Command Center.

Su Wanqing looked at the frozen countdown to the circuit breaker and a faint smile finally appeared on her lips.

That was the smile of a hunter.

"Is that enough?" Wang Tao, who was standing next to him, was shocked. "This is too ruthless. Pfizer will probably file for bankruptcy protection tomorrow."

"not enough."

Su Wanqing shook her head, tapping her fingers lightly on the table, a glint of shrewdness flashing in her eyes.

She not only wants to win, but also wants to accumulate enough wealth for that foolish man who only knows how to do technical work but doesn't know how to make money to squander for a lifetime.

"Initiate the 'Scavenger' plan." Su Wanqing turned to the financial team beside her, her tone decisive. "Take advantage of the panic selling, ignore pharmaceutical stocks, and focus all your efforts on acquiring upstream companies that hold rare metal mining rights and high-precision biomaterials."

"They're like a flock of frightened sheep now, ready to sell for any price. They're using the money Pfizer lost to build the next gold mine for Bai Che."

This is a true example of dimensional reduction.

While her opponent was still bleeding and trying to stop the bleeding, she was already stepping over their corpses, paving the way for a bright future.

10: 00.

The circuit breaker has been activated.

The moment trading resumed, panic selling that had been building up for fifteen minutes burst forth like a flood.

There is no suspense.

Pfizer's stock price plummeted below the support level, triggering a second circuit breaker.

Its market value evaporated by more than $8000 billion.

This is equivalent to the GDP of several medium-sized countries, which vanished into thin air in just half an hour.

new York.

Anderson stared intently at the stock chart, which had become a straight line, his mind completely blank.

He seemed to see a pair of indifferent eyes looking down at him from above the clouds. That young man from the East in a casual suit didn't even lift a finger; he simply snapped his fingers, and the empire he had fought for his entire life vanished into thin air.

Extreme anger, fear, and helplessness intertwined, turning into a metallic sweetness that surged up in my throat.

Snapped!

The whiskey he had been clutching so tightly finally slipped from his grasp. The expensive crystal glass shattered on the marble floor. Amber liquid splattered everywhere, much like Pfizer's shattered dignity.

Anderson slumped in his office chair, his eyes bloodshot, like a plucked, defeated rooster. His lips trembled as he muttered vicious curses, but his voice was so soft that even he couldn't hear them.

It’s over.

It's all over.

In Luzhou, the first rays of morning sunlight shone through the gaps in the curtains onto the floor of the command center.

Su Wanqing looked at the final closing prediction data and closed her laptop.

She stood up, feeling a little tired from the long period of tension, but her spirits were higher than ever before. She walked to the window, opened it, and took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh morning air.

In the distance, that's the direction where Bai Che is resting.

"Get a good night's sleep, you idiot."

As Su Wanqing gazed in that direction, the cold CEO mask in her eyes quietly melted away, revealing an extremely gentle smile.

"When you wake up, this world... will have a new master."

That night, the old king fell, and trillions of dollars in wealth changed hands.

And all of this was simply because that man snapped his fingers in front of the whole world.