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

The freezing rain in New York was like an epileptic seizure.

Mixed with fine ice shards, the wind whipped them up like handfuls of broken glass, slamming them against the bulletproof windows of the Cadillac.

The dull crackling sounds continued in unison, making people uneasy.

The heating inside the carriage was on extremely high.

The smell of industrial tanning agents from newly manufactured leather seats, mixed with the cloying chemical fragrance of car air fresheners, became so strong and dry when exposed to high temperatures that it made one's nasal passages feel irritated.

Zhou Yuan's massive body was squeezed into the leather seat, like a black bear locked in a cage.

He reached into the storage compartment for the freshly brewed black coffee.

The wheels just rolled over a speed bump, and the car lurched violently.

"Hiss—Holy crap!"

Zhou Yuan's hand trembled, and the cup lid, which wasn't properly closed, flew off.

The scalding black liquid splashed out, splattering all over the web of his right hand.

The back of my hand, which has thick, rough skin, immediately developed a small red mark from the burn.

He quickly rubbed his hands haphazardly with the cuff of his suit sleeve, then shook them off in pain.

"Master Yan, please take this, be careful not to burn yourself."

Zhou Yuan grimaced as he handed over the remaining half-cup of coffee; the paper cup was damp on the outside.

Yan Qingfeng leaned against the middle of the back row and casually took it.

The disposable paper cup was slightly softened by the hot water, and the warm touch spread throughout my body from my palm.

He didn't drink, and casually rested his wrist on his knee.

His gaze passed over the well-insulated bulletproof glass, coldly observing the outside of the car.

At the crossroads of Wall Street, several white-collar workers in suits are holding up black umbrellas that have been blown inside out by the wind.

The freezing rain soaked through their expensive trench coats, and they hunched their shoulders, their leather shoes sinking into filthy puddles, looking as disheveled as drowned rats.

"So, tell me, what kind of trouble are they causing over in Handong this time?"

Yan Qingfeng's voice sounded muffled due to the heavy soundproofing, making it impossible to discern his emotions.

Zhou Yuan shook his hand, which was red from the burn, and pursed his lips.

"The old men in the provincial party committee compound are in an uproar. I heard that Tian Guofu was tied up with rope by the old folks and thrown into the police station. Sha Ruijin's secretary turned green with rage."

He pulled a flattened cigarette out of his pocket, wanted to light it but then resisted, and took a sniff of it to satisfy his craving.

"That secretary spent two hours running around the lobby of the Changming Road Police Station, determined to get someone out of trouble."

"Zhao Donglai released them?" Yan Qingfeng lowered his eyelids, looking at the murky coffee in his cup.

"Bullshit!"

Zhou Yuanle showed a mouthful of yellowed, stained teeth and grunted gruffly.

"That old fox Zhao Donglai is incredibly cunning. He immediately turned off his phone, unplugged the landline from the station, and went to hide in the interrogation room to eat instant noodles with pickled cabbage."

Zhou Yuan leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"Several hundred enthusiastic people blocked the entrance to the police station, holding up a tarpaulin used as a banner. They insisted on charging Tian Guofu with 'commercial espionage' and said they would not agree to it unless he was sentenced to life imprisonment."

A very low, muffled laugh escaped Yan Qingfeng's throat.

My chest vibrated slightly.

He placed the limp paper cup on the cup holder next to him.

"The old men have been in the system for too long, and their brains are full of moss."

Yan Qingfeng tugged at his tightly tied tie. The stuffy heat in the carriage made his neck sweat, which felt sticky and uncomfortable.

"Do they think this is still the era where a phone call or a written approval can turn black into white?"

"That's right. When Tian Guofu was being pressed into the mud, he was still yelling that we had brainwashed the people."

Zhou Yuan smacked his lips and patted his round belly.

"Brainwashing?" Yan Qingfeng turned his head and stared at Zhou Yuan.

The dim yellow light from the streetlights outside the car window swept across his face.

"Zhou Yuan, do you think ordinary people at the bottom of society are stupid?"

Zhou Yuan paused for a moment, scratched his stiff buzz cut, and didn't dare to respond.

Yan Qingfeng didn't expect him to answer and continued speaking on his own.

"I haven't brainwashed anyone, and I don't believe in those bullshit philosophies. I only believe in one thing."

He held up one long, slender finger.

"An absolute surplus of the means of survival."

Yan Qingfeng tapped lightly on the car window with his fingertips, making a crisp "knock-knock" sound.

"Our Lingxiao Agricultural Matrix has developed super-powered mutant seeds, and with 100,000 heavy drones spraying nutrient solution, a crop can be grown in wasteland in just a few hours."

He paused for a moment, his breath spraying onto the glass, forming a small ring of white steam.

"The four major international grain traders (ABCD) dare to sell a pound of rice for eight yuan. What about me? I sell it for one yuan and twenty cents, and that's for a three-pound bag of premium rice."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yuan's Adam's apple bobbed uncontrollably.

Saliva instantly welled up in my mouth.

"Master Yan, that rice is truly amazing. Just grab a handful and throw it into the pot, and the resulting porridge is covered with a thick layer of golden rice oil. Last night, I ate three large bowls of it with pickled vegetables, and my stomach was so full I kept burping."

"It's not just rice."

Yan Qingfeng turned his face away, his gaze returning to the rain outside the window.

"You don't need to queue up in the middle of the night in a military overcoat to buy scalped tickets for Lingxiao Hospital. As for the 100,000 large-scale apartments built by the conglomerate, you can move in for free as long as you have enough points."

He placed his hand on the leather armrest, his fingernails unconsciously digging into the stitching.

"When a car mechanic who worries about making three meals a day suddenly discovers that his rice bowl has been coated with a layer of gold."

Yan Qingfeng's voice gradually turned cold, carrying a hint of cruelty that came without bloodshed.

"He doesn't have to worry about next month's rent, or his mother's medical expenses."

"At this moment, Tian Guofu ran over, wanting to seize Lingxiao and smash this golden rice bowl."

Yan Qingfeng crushed the deformed paper cup, and the coffee residue squeezed out through the cracks in the paper.

"He's robbing the last piece of good meat that's pure and unadulterated from the mouths of ordinary people."

"Master Yan, I understand."

Zhou Yuan felt a cool breeze run down his spine, and even the burn on his hand didn't hurt as much anymore.

"No wonder that fat butcher was wielding his cleaver like he was about to kill someone. It turns out Tian Guofu was trying to cut off their livelihood!"

"So what does official credibility even mean?"

Yan Qingfeng threw the crumpled paper cup into the car's trash can.

He picked up a white towel from the side and slowly wiped the coffee stains off his fingertips.

"My greatest protection has never been the trillions of cash flow in Ling Xiao's account, nor the guns under Shen Pojun's command."

Yan Qingfeng casually tossed the towel aside.

"It's the instinct of the 50 million people of Handong to protect their food. When this instinct is pushed to the limit, they will resort to cannibalism."

The convoy's tires rolled over a speed bump, causing the vehicles to sway slightly.

The speed has obviously slowed down.

Through the rain ahead, the magnificent revolving doors of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel were already faintly visible.

Su Jianxin, who had been sitting silently in the passenger seat, turned around at this moment.

The temperature difference between the inside and outside of the car is too great.

The gold-rimmed glasses on his nose were covered with a layer of white mist.

Su Jianxin took off his glasses, took out a piece of microfiber gray velvet cloth from the inside pocket of his suit, and vigorously wiped the lenses.

The dark circles under his eyes made his otherwise refined but depraved appearance look even more sickly and tired.

"Master Yan, I'm afraid we don't have that much time to waste with those old guys from Handong."

Su Jianxin put his glasses back on and his fingers slid rapidly across the metal plate on his knee.

The screen emitted a faint blue light that shone on his pale profile.

"What? Have those old-money families on Wall Street finally gotten rid of their greasy asses on that leather sofa?"

Yan Qingfeng didn't look up, but reached out to unbutton the second toggle button on his suit jacket.

The car was too stuffy, and his fingertips were covered in a fine layer of sweat. The buttons were a bit slippery, and he had to try to unbutton them twice before he could get them on.

Su Jianxin swallowed hard, making a gulping sound.

"Even though George William went bankrupt and is now cleaning toilets in our building, the old money circles behind him have started to weave their web."

He handed the tablet to Yan Qingfeng, which was covered with alarmingly sharp, precipitous green lines.

"In the past fifteen minutes."

Su Jianxin pushed up his slipping glasses, his speech noticeably quickening, and he was panting.

"They colluded with seven of the largest market makers on Wall Street, using high leverage to frantically sell off shares of the twelve shell companies that Lingxiao had established overseas."

"A market crash?" Zhou Yuan's eyes widened, his booming voice making the roof of the car vibrate. "Are these foreign devils crazy? Aren't they afraid of losing everything?"

"They want to cut off all our financial channels overseas."

Su Jianxin ignored Zhou Yuan and stared intently at Yan Qingfeng.

"Their methods were extremely barbaric, a complete suicide attack. They were trying to completely block Ling Xiao's land route out of Handong."

The car finally came to a stop.

The tires screeched as they rubbed against the wet road surface.

The hotel doorman was already there, holding a huge black umbrella, and jogged over to the car door.

Yan Qingfeng didn't even glance at the screen full of green lines.

He pushed open the car door with one hand.

A gust of cold New York wind, mixed with a mixture of ice and water, rushed in through the crack in the door.

The wind swept away the stuffy air in the carriage.

Zhou Yuan shivered from the cold, his fat body trembling, and he quickly covered his collar.

Yan Qingfeng stepped into a puddle on the ground with one of his long leather shoes, and the muddy water splashed onto his custom-made trousers.

He stood up nonchalantly, leaning half his shoulder out of the car.

Raindrops pelted his broad back.

"Selling off our shell? Great, saves us the trouble of dismantling it ourselves."

Yan Qingfeng stopped and turned his head.

The cold wind ruffled his hair.

His eyes were fixed on Su Jianxin, his lips were pursed, and there wasn't a single extra expression on his face.

"Have you found out who led the sell-off?"

Su Jianxin tapped his fingers on the tablet several times until his knuckles turned white.

"It has been determined that it was the Rockefeller Foundation, controlled by the Morgan family, that forcibly mobilized $300 billion in leverage."

"Three hundred billion? With that beggar's money, you think you're qualified to blockade Lingxiao?"

Yan Qingfeng completely crawled out of the carriage.

The doorman quickly held the black umbrella over his head, and rainwater poured down the ribs.

"Give Hua Linglong a call."

Yan Qingfeng stood in the rain, straightening the collar of his suit jacket that had been blown up by the wind.

With his back to the carriage, he uttered his last words, his voice more piercing than the freezing rain of New York.

"Tell her to prepare for a physical internet shutdown. Tonight, I'm going to make sure the entire Wall Street can't even borrow money to buy a coffin."