Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

New York, Wall Street.

The dollar index on the big screen crashed vertically through the floor like a kite with a broken string.

That ghastly green plummeting curve, at a terrifying angle that defies all common sense in finance, pierced the retinas of every trader.

"It's fallen! It's fallen again! It's dropped below single digits!"

A seasoned trader with graying hair stared intently at the screen, his eyes bloodshot as if they were about to bleed. He suddenly grabbed the keyboard from the table and smashed it furiously against the computer displaying data of despair.

"Sell off! Sell off at any cost! This is worse than toilet paper!"

The entire trading hall had become a living hell.

Gone is their usual confident and elite demeanor. The Wall Street tycoons, dressed in suits, now resemble a swarm of headless flies, desperately howling and running around amidst the scattered trade orders.

"Boss! The Middle East has completely cut off dollar settlement channels! They only accept RMB and Helium-3 energy quotas!"

The assistant scrambled into the president's office, his voice trembling with rage.

"Our foreign exchange reserves have been drained in an instant! The dollar has lost its only anchor, oil, and is now just a pile of worthless paper!"

The president slumped in his leather chair, staring at the gray sky outside the window, and suddenly let out a bitter laugh that sounded worse than crying.

He opened the drawer, took out a Browning pistol, and tremblingly put it into his mouth.

"Bang!"

The muffled gunshots became the final footnote to the collapse of this financial empire.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg of the dire situation in the United States.

On Fifth Avenue in New York, the cold wind swirled hundred-dollar bills flying everywhere, but not a single beggar bent down to pick them up.

A long queue stretching for several kilometers stretched out in front of a run-down bakery.

Jack, a former high-powered investment banker who once dominated Wall Street, is now pushing a supermarket cart overflowing with cash. The cart isn't filled with goods, but with neatly bundled stacks of US dollar bills.

"Boss, give me two black breads."

Jack rubbed his frozen hands and pushed the cartload of banknotes in front of the boss, his eyes filled with humble pleading.

The bakery owner, with half a cheap cigarette dangling from his lips, didn't even lift his eyelids, casually poking at the pile of banknotes with a stick in his hand.

"A cartload of money? Are you trying to fob me off like a beggar?"

The boss sneered and pointed to a price list written on a piece of cardboard next to him.

"Look carefully! This morning's prices: two black bread loaves cost two cartloads of cash! Not a single loaf less!"

"This is robbery! There was a truckload of money yesterday!" Jack roared in despair.

"Yesterday is yesterday! This piece of paper is losing value every second; I wouldn't even use it to burn in a fire because of the smoke!"

Without any hesitation, the boss overturned Jack's cart with a stick.

Bundles of US dollars were scattered on the ground, trampled underfoot by starving people passing by, getting covered in dirty mud.

The unprecedented hyperinflation, like a raging beast, ruthlessly tore apart the false prosperity of the United States of America.

Having lost its energy and financial hegemony, this empire, built on exploiting the entire world, was instantly exposed for what it truly was.

Washington, D.C., the Pentagon.

Inside the highest-level underground command center, the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt like you could wring water out of it.

The defense minister stared intently at the huge global military deployment map on the wall, his face ashen, like a dead man.

On the map, those red coordinates that once represented the global hegemony of the US military are fading out one by one.

"Sir, a large-scale disturbance has occurred at a US military base in Japan!"

The communications officer swallowed hard, his voice dry as if he were swallowing sand.

"The soldiers hadn't received any purchasing power in military pay for six whole months. They stormed into the armory, dismantled radar and missiles into parts, and sold them on the black market for Chinese self-heating hot pot and antibiotics!"

"The commander stationed in Okinawa attempted to suppress the rebellion, but was instead tied to a flagpole and stripped naked by enraged soldiers!"

The Minister of Defense nearly fainted.

"Where is the Seventh Fleet?! Where are our carrier battle groups?!" he roared hysterically, trying to grasp at the last straw.

"The Seventh Fleet... is completely out of commission."

The chief of staff shook his head with a bitter smile, his eyes filled with deep despair.

"The country can't even get funding for logistical supplies, and the maintenance materials for the nuclear reactors have been completely cut off. Those once-powerful nuclear-powered aircraft carriers are now just sitting in Yokosuka harbor, rusting away."

"To survive, the sailors even set up fishing rods on the flight deck to catch fish and fill their stomachs."

The chief of staff took off his military cap and slumped into his chair in a dejected manner.

"Minister, let's face reality."

"Without the dollar and without energy, our proud global military machine has been reduced to a pile of scrap metal."

"Our hegemony has come to an end."

Dead silence.

The entire command center fell into a suffocating silence.

Those once arrogant four-star generals now all bowed their heads, like a group of prisoners awaiting judgment.

A few hours later.

The White House, the Oval Office.

The President of the United States sat behind the famous Resolute Desk, facing cameras broadcasting live across the country.

He wasn't wearing makeup, his hair was messy, his eyes were sunken, and he looked as if he had aged twenty years overnight.

The red indicator light comes on.

The president took a deep breath and looked at the camera. His once ambitious eyes were now filled with nothing but endless desolation and humiliation.

"Citizens of America..."

He choked up as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Today, with a heavy heart, I announce a fact to you all."

"For the past half-century, we were the most powerful nation on the planet. We used dollars and aircraft carriers to build a world order that belonged to us."

The president closed his eyes in anguish, two streams of tears sliding down his wrinkled cheeks.

"But times have changed."

"That ancient country in the East, with its incredible technology and unlimited clean energy, has completely shattered our foundations."

"We have lost the power to set oil prices, the credibility of our currency, and the economic capacity to maintain a global military presence."

He lowered his head, as if using all his strength, to squeeze out the words that broke the hearts of all Americans:

"I hereby formally declare that the United States of America... relinquishes its status as a global superpower."

"We will reduce all overseas military forces and retreat entirely to our homeland."

"From today onwards, we... have been relegated to a second-rate country."

This poignant televised address was instantly transmitted to every corner of the earth via satellite signal.

The old king has fallen, and a new king shall rise.

At this moment, the eyes of the world were all turned with fervor toward Beijing, the world's center in the East.

Shenzhou Bureau, Director's Office.

The sun was shining brightly, and the heating was on full blast.

Shen Jinghong leaned back in the large leather seat, holding the iconic enamel mug in his hand, slowly blowing away the foam on the surface of the water.

On the large screen on the wall, the US president's tearful and apology speech was being played repeatedly.

"Hahaha! That's great! That's fucking great!"

Chen Weiguo slammed his hand on the coffee table in excitement, making the teacups vibrate. His dark red face was filled with ecstasy as he pointed at the dejected old man on the screen and laughed loudly.

"Chief, look how pitifully this old man is crying! They weren't acting like this when they blocked the Taiwan Strait with two aircraft carriers!"

"Those Onsa robbers, they've finally met their match!"

Shen Jinghong put down her teacup and chuckled softly.

Unlike Chen Weiguo, he was not overjoyed; instead, his deep eyes revealed an absolute calm that suggested he had seen through the vicissitudes of history.

"This is called the cycle of karma."

Shen Jinghong stood up, walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and looked down at the bustling, futuristic metropolis below.

"A hegemony built on sucking the blood of the whole world is ultimately a castle in the air. We have merely removed the ladder beneath their feet."

Lin Qinghan walked over carrying a thick document, her cool eyes gleaming with undisguised pride.

"Amazing sight, the old world has collapsed."

She pushed up her black-rimmed glasses, handed the document to Shen Jinghong, and her voice carried a powerful, global momentum.

"Right now, heads of state and special envoys from more than 200 countries around the world are all crammed into our state guesthouse in Beijing."

"They're all eagerly waiting for you to speak, waiting for our Chinese nation to set new rules for this blue planet."

Shen Jinghong took the document and casually flipped through two pages.

He gazed at the rising sun bursting forth outside the window, a haughty, domineering smile slowly curving his lips.

"Since the old world has collapsed, let's build a new one."

Shen Jinghong turned his head and looked at Lin Qinghan and Chen Weiguo. His eyes instantly became incredibly sharp, exuding an absolute domineering aura that seemed to lead humanity to the stars and the sea.

"Let's go open the door and welcome the guests."

"Tell those heads of state lining up for pilgrimage outside: if they want to board our Chinese ship, they have to follow our rules!"