Handong: Sha Li wants political achievements? I'll shut down the entire province.

Outside the Diaoyutai State Guesthouse.

The night rain had just stopped. Yan Qingfeng's black Hongqi L5 armored convoy rolled over the wet cobblestones and came to a steady stop in front of the VIP building.

Zhou Yuan took two quick steps and pushed open the door to the mahogany private room.

A muffled "bang" was heard.

The sounds of laughter and conversation that had been filling the room suddenly ceased, like a duck being choked.

Beside the mahogany round table sat Old Master Zhao, the head of the Zhao family in Beijing.

Sitting to his left were several giants from domestic new energy vehicle companies, whose fake smiles had all frozen in place.

Yan Qingfeng ignored the astonished looks.

He was wrapped in a long overcoat that carried the chill of the night wind, and walked straight to the main seat opposite the door, where he sat down with an air of authority.

That's the rule in Beijing's social circles.

The head seat has always been reserved for the person of the highest seniority and greatest power present. Tonight, it was originally Old Zhao's seat.

Several automotive industry giants gasped and exchanged glances.

This local thug from Handong not only doesn't pay respects to the authorities, but he also comes up and tramples on their faces!

The purple clay teacup in Old Zhao's hand stopped in mid-air, and his eyes twitched almost imperceptibly twice.

But he was, after all, a cunning fox, and immediately managed to force a kind smile.

"Qingfeng, you are a promising young man. Come, serve the dishes."

Old Zhao waved his hand, and immediately waiters in cheongsams filed in, bringing out delicacies from land and sea.

Yan Qingfeng leaned back in his chair, his long legs crossed, not even touching the chopsticks in front of him.

"Old Zhao, I'll skip the meal. It's windy outside, and I'm in a hurry. Just get to the point."

Old Zhao was met with a rebuff, gave a dry laugh, and slammed his teacup heavily on the table.

"Alright, that's great. Then this old man will take advantage of his age and show you a sure way to get rich."

He pointed to a bloated, Mediterranean-looking man next to him.

"This is Chairman Sun of Longteng New Energy, a leading car company that we in Beijing are focusing on supporting."

Chairman Sun immediately straightened his back, stood up with his wine glass in hand, and wore a condescending sense of superiority on his face.

"President Yan, I've heard so much about you. Your Lingxiao Group's holographic VR project in the south is making quite a splash."

Yan Qingfeng didn't even lift his eyelids, took out the custom-made metal lighter, and played with it between his fingertips.

"Click, click."

The flames flickered, reflecting in his cold, sharp eyes.

Mr. Sun, having been rebuffed, flashed a hint of annoyance in his eyes and decided to drop the pretense.

"President Yan, let's be frank. Longteng is preparing to set up shop in Handong and build a super car factory."

"We've already spoken to the provincial party committee of Handong. Secretary Sha wholeheartedly supports this investment of hundreds of billions."

He paused, a greedy look appearing on his face.

"As long as Lingxiao opens up the underlying data interface of holographic VR to us, Longteng will consider it as your technology investment."

"I'll leave you 10% of the shares. A powerful alliance, mutual benefit, how about it?"

The private room was silent for a few seconds.

Zhou Yuan, standing behind Yan Qingfeng, almost laughed out of anger.

Trying to extract Lingxiao's core underlying data with a worthless check?

These Beijing gentlemen really think Handong is their backyard ATM!

Seeing that Yan Qingfeng remained silent, another car company executive wearing gold-rimmed glasses spoke up in a sarcastic tone.

"Mr. Yan, you may feel like you've been taken advantage of. But business is business. Those virtual things on the internet can make money quickly."

"But when it comes to resisting risks, we still have to look at asset-heavy manufacturing industries like ours."

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses tapped the table, speaking in a tone that sounded like an elder lecturing a younger person.

"Car manufacturing is a bottomless pit. Your Lingxiao doesn't have the genes for it, nor the technological barriers."

"You can just sit back and count your money with a 10% share of the company; this is a benefit that Old Zhao fought for for you."

"Otherwise, with our industry-wide blacklisting, you won't be able to buy even a single screw in the physical goods sector."

Several industry leaders echoed this sentiment, their words filled with arrogance.

In their eyes, even if Yan Qingfeng had a lot of money, he was just a nouveau riche who got rich by luck.

When it comes to heavy industry, they still have to be mindful of the attitudes of these established capitalists.

The atmosphere in the private room was extremely oppressive.

Old Zhao sat calmly with his teacup in hand, waiting for Yan Qingfeng to back down.

"Click".

Yan Qingfeng closed the lighter with a crisp click.

The noise inside the room was instantly cut off by this sound.

He leaned slightly forward, crossed his hands on the table, and glanced at the greasy faces.

"Are you done talking?"

Yan Qingfeng's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chilling sense of oppression.

"Do you think you can come to my territory and beg for food just because you're supposedly supported by the capital?"

"What did you say?!"

Chairman Sun's face turned ashen, and he slammed his hand on the table.

"Yan Qingfeng, don't push your luck! Old Zhao is sitting right here, how dare you speak to us like that?"

Yan Qingfeng chuckled softly and slowly stood up.

He casually picked up a newly opened bottle of special-supply Moutai from the table.

The clear liquid poured out of the bottle.

"Splash!"

It was poured precisely onto the giant Australian lobster in the very center of the turntable.

The rich aroma of soy sauce instantly filled the entire private room.

Everyone was stunned by his sudden action, their eyes widening like saucers.

"You think you can trade your leaky, broken metal for my underlying data?"

Yan Qingfeng casually tossed the empty wine bottle onto the table.

The glass bottle rolled down and shattered several exquisite bone china bowls.

"Old Zhao, times have changed."

Yan Qingfeng looked down at Old Zhao, whose noodles were twitching wildly, and a bloodthirsty smile appeared on his lips.

"I, Yan Qingfeng, will take all the food from Handong and won't even share a drop of soup with you."

Old Zhao was so angry that he trembled all over and pointed at Yan Qingfeng's nose.

"Arrogant! You brat, you think building cars is child's play?!"

"Without our approval, your capital will find it impossible to move an inch in the real economy!"

Yan Qingfeng was too lazy to say anything more.

He straightened the hem of his suit jacket, turned around, and strode towards the door.

As he approached the door, he stopped and, without turning his head, uttered a single sentence.

"Starting tomorrow, the trams you are so proud of will not even be worthy of being recycled as scrap metal by Ling Xiao."

"Eat more while you still have an appetite tonight."

Zhou Yuan snorted coldly, quickly followed, and slammed the door of the private room shut.

"Bang!"

The loud noise made the crystal chandelier shake.

Inside the private room, a group of Beijing dignitaries remained, their faces pale, filled with shock and anger.

Outside Diaoyutai State Guesthouse, the rain started falling again.

Yan Qingfeng sat in the back of the Hongqi L5, where he was sheltered from the damp cold outside.

The convoy slowly started moving, merging into the dazzling neon-lit traffic of Beijing.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Zhou Yuan turned his head, rubbed his hands excitedly, and looked on with anticipation in his eyes.

"Master Yan, are we really going to overturn the table so soon? This could be a disaster for the global manufacturing industry!"

Zhou Yuan grinned, looking like a ruthless bandit about to commit robbery.

"Once our thing debuts tomorrow, that bald-headed Chairman Sun will probably be lining up to jump off a building!"

Yan Qingfeng leaned back in the soft leather seat, closed his eyes, and his deep voice echoed in the car.

"Even if the sky falls, they'll be the first to die. Pass on my message to the lab: the global press conference will be held promptly at 10:00 AM tomorrow."

Yan Qingfeng tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"Zhou Yuan, guess how many limit-down days those car companies' stocks will hit when the market opens tomorrow?"