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

My gaze shifted from the police cars speeding away in the plaza of the building.

In the distant northern sky, dark clouds hung low.

Hidden in an inconspicuous alley within Beijing's Second Ring Road is a quiet courtyard house.

Yan Qingfeng leaned back in an old, worn-out armchair.

He was holding a warm purple clay teacup.

The surface of the cup was a bit slippery, and he had to change the position of his thumb to barely hold it steady.

Two crackling sounds came from the encrypted headset, followed by Shen Pojun's gruff voice.

"Master Yan, it's done. Zhao Donglai has taken that brat and that actor away together."

Shen Pojun paused for a moment, as if coughing up phlegm.

"When he left, that kid was spitting blood and had dirtied our steps. I'm having someone use a hose to clean it up."

Yan Qingfeng chuckled softly.

His chest vibrated, and laughter spilled from his throat, breaking the silence of the courtyard.

He placed the teacup on the stone table beside him, the bottom of the cup hitting the stone with a dull thud.

A few drops of tea splashed out, landing on the bluish-gray tabletop and spreading into a small water stain.

Inside the luxurious villa of the Chen family in Beijing, the air was so stuffy that it was hard to breathe.

The room was filled with the pungent smell of Cuban cigars.

Chen Wanlin, the head of the Chen family, slammed his phone onto the carpet.

His chest heaved violently, and the veins at the base of his neck throbbed.

"Who does Zhao Donglai think he is! Huh? He dares to kidnap my son!"

Chen Wanlin's voice cracked, sounding as awful as a broken gong.

The butler, Old Li, stood with his neck hunched against the wall, stammering as he replied.

"Sir, the people in Handong said it was...it was the people from Lingxiao Building who called the police."

Old Li wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his hand trembled, and he almost dropped the tablet in his hand.

"It was self-defense."

Chen Wanlin ripped off his silk tie.

Using too much force, one of the buttons on the collar popped off.

The plastic button hit the glass coffee table, bounced twice, and fell into the sofa cushions.

"Call the Handong Public Security Bureau! Call Old Zhao!"

Chen Wanlin gritted his teeth, spitting out saliva into the air.

"Tell him that if he doesn't release him within half an hour, I'll make sure he can't fit into that suit anymore!"

Old Li dialed the number with trembling hands, accidentally pressing three wrong numbers, and quickly pressed the delete key to start over.

The phone rang more than a dozen times.

Old Li's face gradually turned pale, and in the end he even held his breath.

"H-It's over..."

He swallowed hard, his voice trembling like a leaf.

"They said the director was in a meeting and wouldn't see anyone."

Chen Wanlin's vision went black, and he gripped the sofa armrest tightly, panting heavily.

His legs buckled and he almost fell, but he quickly steadied himself on the edge of the coffee table.

"Fine, fine! This little beast Yan Qingfeng really thinks he's the local tyrant of Handong?"

His eyes were bloodshot, like a cornered old dog.

"Go! Notify all the cinema chains in Beijing, and all the investors! Drain Lingxiao's resources completely!"

Old Li stood there, stunned, not daring to move for a moment.

"Go for it! I'll make sure the Lingxiao Consortium never recovers from its current predicament in the entertainment industry!"

In the courtyard house.

A breeze picked up, and a few withered leaves fell from the old locust tree, making a crisp sound as they hit the stone table.

Yan Qingfeng took out a silver lighter.

I ran my thumb across it, but missed. The phone was a bit cold, and my hand slipped.

He clicked his tongue, lit his cigar again, and brought it closer to his cigar.

The pale blue flames flickered, and the pungent smell of tobacco spread in the cold wind, irritating the nostrils.

He picked up the tablet on the stone table, tapped the screen a few times, and dialed the joint hotline between Su Jianxin and Hua Linglong.

The screen is flickering.

Su Jianxin was holding a cup of black coffee. He had just taken a sip when he suddenly hissed.

He quickly removed the cup, his tongue burned, and he gasped for breath several times.

The sound of nail filing came from Hua Linglong's side.

She had her head down, her red nail polish reflecting the light, when suddenly her hand trembled and the nail file pierced her flesh, making a slurping sound.

"Master Yan." The two spoke at the same time.

Hua Linglong cleared her throat. "Did they catch that little bastard?"

"The Chen family has announced that they will use their Beijing capital to block us."

Yan Qingfeng dusted off his cigar, and a small piece of bluish-white ash fell onto his leather shoes. He lifted his foot and rubbed it off.

On the screen, Su Jianxin pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses that had slipped down to the bridge of his nose.

He curled his lips into a sly, roguish smile, revealing a row of white teeth.

"Just those moldy bills they have?"

Su Jianxin wiped the coffee spilled on the table with a tissue. "It's not even enough to fill a tooth gap, Mr. Yan. The money in my fund pool is about to overflow."

Hua Linglong blew the powder off her nails.

"A bunch of fake data generated by online trolls, they actually think they're something special."

She rolled her eyes, threw the file on the table with a loud thud.

"I've disliked those actors for a long time. They're always acting all high and mighty."

Yan Qingfeng leaned back in his armchair.

The old rattan made a faint "creaking" sound.

He looked up at the sky, which was covered by dark clouds, and his eyes slowly turned cold.

"Since they like to play with capital."

Yan Qingfeng exhaled a smoke ring, the white mist blurring his jawline.

"Then let's flip the table."

He tapped his knuckles on the stone table, making a soft, resonant sound.

"Old Su, Boss Hua, let's get to work."

Su Jianxin ripped off the expensive tie and threw it on the ground.

His hands were on the keyboard, his knuckles cracking.

"Alright. Handong's capital pool is in place."

He stared at the flashing red and green numbers on the computer screen as if he were staring at a piece of bloody fat.

"Starlight Media, is it? If we don't expose their dirty laundry today, I'll change my name!"

On the other side, Hua Linglong, wearing high heels, walked a few steps to the huge display screen.

"I have all the underlying data in my hands."

She typed in a password with lightning speed.

"Tax evasion contracts with dual licenses, surveillance footage of young men checking into hotels, and bank transfer records of old men using drugs."

Hua Linglong pressed the Enter key.

"I'll put them all on the holographic VR homepage, and that will make these filthy bastards famous all over the world."

Inside the trading room of the Handong headquarters.

Hundreds of traders were like wolves that had smelled blood.

A massive amount of capital transformed into countless short positions, smashing everything in its path, directly targeting the entertainment and cultural sectors of the Nasdaq and the domestic stock market.

The sound of keyboard typing was continuous, like a downpour hitting a tin roof.

At the same time, the Yunxiao system backend began to push out large-scale updates.

High-definition, uncensored, and irrefutable evidence files will pop up directly on the virtual screens of hundreds of millions of users across the country.

The bills, chat logs, and even CCTV footage of a top celebrity pulling up his pants in a hotel corridor are all clearly visible.

The evidence is irrefutable; there's no way to deny it.

Time marches on, second by second.

Three hours later.

Chen Wanlin's study was as stuffy and hot as a steamer.

The stench of sweat mixed with the sour smell of the spoiled strong tea hit my nose.

The clock on the wall ticked away, each second feeling like a tickle on his nerves.

"master……"

The butler, Old Li, was holding a tablet when his legs buckled and his knees hit the wooden floor with a dull thud.

The tablet slipped from my hand and fell onto the carpet, its screen glowing red.

Starlight Media collapsed and trading was suspended.

In the past three hours, a market value of hundreds of billions has vanished like a burst soap bubble, leaving not a ripple.

Chen Wanlin stumbled and lunged forward.

He tripped over the edge of the carpet, stumbled, and grabbed the tablet.

Those cascading green curves, like ropes, were tightly strangling his throat.

He felt as if a huge rock was pressing on his chest, and his breathing was like a bellows.

The news pop-ups below kept popping up, with eye-catching words.

Seven of its most popular artists were banned across the entire internet.

The public security authorities issued a detention notice overnight.

The termination notices from various brands lined up in a long queue, and the penalty fees could flatten his villa if they were piled up.

"Gone...all gone..."

Chen Wanlin rolled his eyes upwards, and the tablet in his hand fell to the ground with a thud.

His legs felt like they had cramped up, and he collapsed to the ground.

He knocked over the huanghuali armchair next to him, and it rolled half a circle on the ground.

In the courtyard house.

Yan Qingfeng stood up, reached for the black trench coat on the back of the chair, and put it on.

The autumn wind swept up fallen leaves, brushing against his trouser legs, carrying a touch of coolness.

Zhou Yuan strode in through the courtyard gate.

He was clutching a half-eaten meat bun in his hand, his cheeks bulging from chewing.

"Master Yan."

Zhou Yuan swallowed the steamed bun, choked a little, and quickly punched his chest twice.

"Starlight Media has suspended trading. I heard that old man from the Chen family was just taken away by ambulance."

Yan Qingfeng did not turn around.

He threw the remaining half of the cigar onto the bluestone slab.

The toe of the leather shoe stepped on it, grinding it twice, making a rough, rustling sound.

The spark died down, leaving only a wisp of smoke.

"Three days." Yan Qingfeng straightened the collar of his trench coat, his voice not loud.

Zhou Yuan paused for a moment, a small piece of white steamed bun crumb still clinging to the corner of his mouth.

"Huh? What three days?"

Yan Qingfeng turned his head.

His eyes gleamed with an arrogance that sent chills down your spine.

"Go tell Lao Su and Hua Linglong to bite them to death and not let go."

He paused, his tone as cold as the wind emanating from an ice cellar.

"In three days, I'll make these self-righteous entertainment industry capitalists beg for food under the overpass."

Zhou Yuan shivered and touched the goosebumps that had risen on his arm.

He quickly stuffed the remaining half of the bun into his pocket, grinned, and revealed a malicious smile.

"Alright! With you saying that, won't tomorrow's capital be engulfed in bloodshed?"