Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

Faced with this group of menacing thugs who had completely blocked the alleyway, Mr. Huo's face darkened. His bodyguards quickly stepped forward, reaching into their pockets, ready to draw their guns.

The atmosphere was as tense as a string about to snap.

Shen Jinghong reached out and stopped the Huo family's bodyguard. He looked at George, a foreigner with a fierce face who was playing with a butterfly knife. Instead of being afraid, he chuckled.

The look in his eyes wasn't like he was looking at a robber; it was more like he was seeing a long-lost uncle.

"I was just worried about not having enough money to buy a gift for my family when this God of Wealth delivered himself to my door."

He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, took two slow steps forward, put his hands in his pockets, and looked more like a scoundrel than George, with his refined scoundrel demeanor.

"George, right? Ruth's cousin?"

Shen Jinghong asked with a smile, "I heard you want to play big? How big? Bigger than the Federal Reserve's vault?"

George was taken aback by his arrogant attitude, and almost cut his hand with the butterfly knife in his hand. But he quickly came to his senses, grinned maliciously, and pulled a dark M1911 pistol from his waist, pointing the muzzle directly at Shen Jinghong's forehead.

"Enough with the nonsense! Don't think I won't touch you just because the Huo family is protecting you!"

George spat, his eyes greedily sweeping over the warehouse door behind Shen Jinghong. "I know it's full of American goods. If you don't want your head to explode, hand over the warehouse keys and then take that nerdy woman back to the mainland!"

"Oh wow, they're double-crossing us?"

Shen Jinghong clicked his tongue twice and shook his head with a regretful expression. "I was going to try to reason with you, but since you've already pulled out this lump of iron, let's try a different approach."

He extended a finger and gently brushed aside the muzzle of the gun pointed at him, the movement as flippant as if he were fiddling with a dead twig.

"Don't be so rude. I'm a man of principle. How about we make a bet?"

"What are we betting on?" George asked instinctively, his finger still tightly gripping the trigger.

"Bet on magic."

Shen Jinghong snapped his fingers, his eyes turning deep and mocking. "If I can make the gun in your hand disappear into thin air, you and your men can get lost. If I can't, this entire warehouse of goods is yours."

"Magic? Hahahaha!"

George laughed so hard he almost fell over, as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. His underlings joined in, whistling and cheering.

"Are you out of your mind? Trying to pull a magic trick on me? This gun's loaded!"

George slammed the gun back against Shen Jinghong's forehead, his finger about to pull the trigger. "Die, you yellow-skinned monkey!"

"Bang!"

A crisp sound.

But it wasn't the sound of gunfire; it was an onomatopoeic sound coming from Shen Jinghong's mouth.

Just as George was about to pull the trigger, he felt a sudden lightness in his hand. The heavy, cold feel of steel vanished instantly, replaced by a cloud of empty air.

George remained in the gun-holding position, his index finger awkwardly digging into the air, his whole body frozen.

Where's the gun?

What about such a big M1911?

"I already said, I'm a magician."

Shen Jinghong spread her hands, looking innocently at the terrified George, "Looks like I won this round."

"F**k! You're a devil! Attack him! Kill him!"

George realized what was happening and roared. The dozen or so henchmen behind him, wielding machetes and iron bars, charged forward with howling cries.

"Tsk, no sportsmanship whatsoever."

Shen Jinghong stood still, only sighing helplessly, a hint of impatience flashing in her eyes.

"System, stop being picky. This scrap metal may be worthless, but it's still metal. Take it!"

hum-

An invisible wave instantly swept across the entire alleyway.

The henchman at the front suddenly felt his hand go light, and the large cleaver he was wielding vanished instantly. Because he had used too much force, he lost his balance and fell face-first at Shen Jinghong's feet.

Then came the second, the third...

All the weapons, whether watermelon knives, iron bars, or daggers hidden in waistbands, vanished into thin air in an instant.

What's even more frightening is that it wasn't just the weapons that disappeared.

"My gold watch! My Rolex!"

"My wallet! It was just in my pocket!"

"Oh my God! My gold tooth! My big gold tooth is gone?!"

A group of thugs who were just moments ago looking fierce and menacing now looked like plucked chickens, clutching their cheeks, touching their pockets, and howling like ghosts.

Shen Jinghong stood at the center of the chaos, like an elegant conductor directing an absurd farce.

"This...that's it?"

Mr. Huo and Lin Qinghan stood behind, dumbfounded. Lin Qinghan, in particular, had witnessed Shen Jinghong's abilities before, but this was the first time she had seen such a large-scale "mass disarmament."

This isn't magic; this is a miracle!

"It's not over yet."

Shen Jinghong turned back and winked at her, then turned her head to look at George, who was already paralyzed with fear on the ground, her gaze finally settling on the waists of the group of people.

Those leather belts were well-made and looked to be of good quality.

"One should be thorough in one's conduct; if you're going to help someone, help them to the very end."

Shen Jinghong chuckled mischievously, and with another flick of his finger, said, "Give me your belt!"

"Pat! Pat! Pat!"

A series of sounds of belt buckles loosening rang out, followed by the rustling sound of trousers slipping down.

A dozen or so grown men, in broad daylight, all felt a chill run down their lower bodies. Their trousers, no longer restrained by belts, slid down their legs to their ankles, revealing brightly colored floral underwear underneath.

George was the worst off; he was wearing pink underwear with SpongeBob SquarePants printed on it, making him stand out conspicuously among the group of fierce, tattooed men.

"ah--!!!"

A scream even more agonizing than before rang out.

These thugs, who usually ran rampant on the streets, were now filled with shame and indignation. They pulled up their pants, tucked their legs together, and fled in a sorry state through the alley like frightened penguins.

"Don't run away! Play a couple more rounds!"

Shen Jinghong shouted from behind, and casually pulled out a brick he had just collected from his spatial storage and threw it. It hit George right on the butt, making him stumble and disappear around the corner.

The alleyway returned to silence, leaving only a mess of footprints and Mr. Huo, still disheveled in the wind.

"This...this..."

Mr. Huo wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his eyes filled with awe as he looked at Shen Jinghong. "Nephew Shen, just who are you?"

"It's just a trivial skill; I'm afraid I'll make a fool of myself in front of Elder Huo."

Shen Jinghong clapped his hands, as if nothing had happened. He took a heavy cloth bag out of his pocket (system space) and casually tossed it to Mr. Huo's assistant.

The bag was open, revealing gold watches, gold chains, and a thick wad of Hong Kong dollars and US dollars that had just been taken from the group of people.

"Old Huo, these scoundrels have been ruthlessly exploiting the people. I'll just use this ill-gotten wealth to give to them."

Shen Jinghong spoke sincerely, "Please replace all of these with penicillin and surgical instruments, and transport them to the mainland along with the supplies in the warehouse. Consider it a small token of our appreciation for the soldiers on the front lines."

Mr. Huo took the bag, feeling its heavy weight, gave Shen Jinghong a deep look, and then solemnly bowed.

"Mr. Shen is so righteous! I admire him! Rest assured, if even a single screw is missing from this shipment, I, Fok Ying-tung, will cut my head off and give it to you!"

……

Two days later.

A green train clattered along the Guangzhou-Kowloon Railway.

Outside the car window, skyscrapers gradually receded into the distance, replaced by vast green farmlands and low-lying villages.

Shen Jinghong and Lin Qinghan sat in the hard-seat carriage, opposite two women holding children, chatting about everyday things in Cantonese with their local accents.

The air was filled with the smells of sweat, chicken manure, and cheap tobacco; it was unpleasant, even somewhat pungent.

But Shen Jinghong felt incredibly at ease.

He looked out the window at the receding scenery and at the winding barbed wire fence in the distance—the Luohu Bridge, the last barrier connecting the two worlds.

Once you cross that bridge, you'll be home.

It was that red land that was still poor and backward at that time, but full of boundless hope.

Lin Qinghan seemed to sense his change in mood and gently touched his arm.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Thinking about those vampires."

Shen Jinghong withdrew her gaze, clenched her fist, and her knuckles turned slightly white from the force.

The faces of the Shen family members flashed through his mind—his greedy parents, his useless younger brother, and his mean-spirited sister-in-law. The humiliations of his past life flashed before his eyes like a movie.

"Lin Qinghan, tell me, if someone treated you like a tireless blood bank, draining every drop of your blood and taking it all for granted, what would you do?"

Lin Qinghan was stunned for a moment; she had never seen Shen Jinghong look like that before.

The usual nonchalance was gone from his eyes; only an intense, chilling aura and murderous intent remained.

She paused for a moment, then reached out and gently placed her hand on his clenched fist, her voice clear yet firm:

"Then break their teeth so they can't bite anymore."

Shen Jinghong paused, then slowly relaxed, took her hand in his, and a cruel yet triumphant smile curled at the corner of his lips:

"That's right. This time when we go back, we not only need to build up the country, but we also need to take the opportunity to clean up our own house. Some scores need to be settled."