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

In New York, the morning light is as bright as a tuberculosis patient on the verge of death.

The gray clouds hung heavily over Manhattan, making it feel so stuffy that it was hard to breathe.

A thin layer of condensation formed on the floor-to-ceiling windows.

It feels like ice to the touch; your fingertips can even go numb from the cold if they stick to it.

Yan Qingfeng sat in front of the custom-made mahogany desk.

He held a pure gold "Lingxiao Points Coin" between his thumb and forefinger.

The fine anti-counterfeiting gears on the edge of the gold coin rubbed against my fingertip.

It made a faint, dry "rustling" sound.

This thing is heavy and has the cool touch characteristic of metal.

Under the incandescent light, a blinding yellow light shone, piercing the corners of people's eyes.

On the single sofa opposite, Zhou Yuan was dealing with a huge American hot dog from the street.

Too much yellow mustard was squeezed out.

He took a big bite, and the sauce squeezed out with a "plop" from the sausage casing.

A lump of yellowish, gooey stuff landed directly on the armrest of the leather sofa.

"Holy crap, why is this foreigner's seasoning so runny?"

Zhou Yuan puffed out his cheeks and mumbled a curse.

He quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped his face haphazardly a couple of times.

The more you wiped it, the dirtier it got, and the expensive leather suddenly emitted a pungent, sour smell.

The heavy double doors of the suite were pushed open.

The door hinges may have gotten damp, as they made a dry, creaking sound.

Su Jianxin strode in.

The shoulders of the suit still carried the smell of damp, freezing rain from outside, mixed with a cheap perfume smell from a taxi.

His gold-rimmed glasses were fogged up, making it impossible to see anything.

He could only rely on his senses to slap a thick brown paper bag tucked under his arm onto the mahogany table.

"Master Yan, the Handong Provincial Committee sent a confidential fax overnight... cough cough, urgently."

Su Jianxin's throat was so dry it felt like he had swallowed a handful of sandpaper, and his Adam's apple bobbed awkwardly as he swallowed.

He took off his glasses and casually wiped the fog off his trousers on the thigh.

"Sha Ruijin and Li Dakang personally stamped it with red seals. Those old men have completely resigned themselves to their fate."

Su Jianxin untied the white cotton string on the paper bag.

He pulled out a few sheets of A4 paper, which smelled strongly of ink. The edges of the paper were sharp; they had almost cut the hangnail on his index finger earlier.

Zhou Yuan swallowed the pickled cucumber in his mouth, choking so hard that his eyes rolled back.

He quickly grabbed a swig of cold water from the coffee table and gulped it down.

"What? You've resigned yourself to fate? What kind of worthless stamp is that?"

Yan Qingfeng did not accept the document.

The gold coin flipped on his long, slender knuckles like an obedient living thing.

He leaned back in his chair, the mahogany creaking under pressure.

"Nobuko, pick the key points and read them."

Yan Qingfeng picked up the now-cold black coffee on the table and took a small sip.

The bitter and astringent liquid slid down the esophagus, and the coolness penetrated into the stomach, causing the stomach wall to contract slightly.

Su Jianxin put his glasses back on.

Those two bruises now make him look even more like a seriously ill patient.

"This document is called the 'Handong Special Economic Zone Enterprise Management Exemption Regulations'."

He flicked the paper with his fingernail, making a crisp "clang" sound.

"There are quite a few terms, but to sum it up in one sentence: Starting from midnight last night, Handong Province has completely abolished RMB settlements and will only recognize our Lingxiao Points."

Su Jianxin tugged at his tie, which was too tight, and felt that he could breathe a little easier.

"The province handed over all its power over law enforcement, pricing of goods, and even the allocation of highways to Lord Yan. Official documents are now less valuable than toilet paper."

"Do you think those officials would be so lenient?"

Zhou Yuan wiped the oil stains from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"That old bastard Li Dakang used to protect his GDP like it was nothing, doesn't he care now?"

"He's not worried about it at all."

Su Jianxin threw the document back onto the table.

"Last month, Handong's GDP surged by 400%. It was all thanks to our conglomerate's insider trading. He's now just a high-ranking bodyguard who stamps Yan's approval; he could brag about this achievement in the capital for three lifetimes."

Yan Qingfeng paused, his fingers moving slightly.

He clenched the gold coin in his palm, the gears digging into the flesh of his hand, a hard, painful sensation.

The pond in Handong is indeed too small.

"Now that the old houses have been completely demolished, we should at least check if there are any rats in the ruins."

Yan Qingfeng placed the coffee cup back on the porcelain saucer, making a crisp sound.

"Where are those old-fashioned scumbags rotting now?"

Su Jianxin brought up his tablet and swiped his thumb across the screen twice.

"After Chen Dashao and Lu Ze, those people in Beijing's financial circle, went bankrupt last week."

He wrinkled his nose, as if he could smell the stench through the screen.

"Minister Shen Anbao threw me into a stinking ditch on the outskirts of the city and I soaked in it overnight. When I was pulled out, my mouth was full of black mud and dead rat hair."

"Now they're all in detention centers."

Su Jianxin sneered, his eye twitching.

"They say they get slapped every day in the cell and made to lick the soles of the cell boss's shoes."

Zhou Yuan grinned, revealing his yellowed, stained teeth, and laughed loudly, which made the fat on his face twitch.

"What about Tian Guofu? That old man was taken to the police station by the woman buying vegetables, what's his situation now?"

"I'm currently sharing a bunk bed with Zhao Ruilong."

Su Jianxin tapped the keyboard and projected a surveillance video into the air.

"Last night, the food at Qincheng Prison was just boiled cabbage in water. Tian Guofu was starving and tried to snatch the half-eaten stale bun from Zhao Ruilong's lunchbox. The two of them were rolling around on the ground, pulling each other's hair."

In the holographic image, there are two once high-ranking figures.

Like two wild dogs fighting over food, their nails dug deep into each other's faces, scratching out bloody marks.

Yan Qingfeng felt a bland sense of disgust rising in his stomach.

These once self-proclaimed nobles, when faced with absolute violence and hunger, shed their facade and are no better than beggars on the street.

"Where is Hou Liangping?"

Yan Qingfeng tapped rhythmically on the mahogany tabletop with his fingertips, producing a dull "knock-knock" sound.

"This self-proclaimed righteous knife, hasn't it rusted yet?"

Su Jianxin's expression was somewhat distorted, wanting to laugh yet feeling a sense of pathos.

"According to official records, he was burned to a crisp in the fire. Now he's using the alias Li Jianguo and is an unregistered resident without even an ID card."

He turned the tablet around and pushed it to Yan Qingfeng's side.

The screen then switched to the streets of Jingzhou, where a torrential downpour was taking place.

A man in a tattered raincoat was huddled next to a green trash can in the alley behind the Lingxiao Building.

Rainwater streamed down Hou Liangping's messy, tangled hair, blurring his bloodshot eyes.

He was bent over, frantically rummaging through the swill bucket for something.

The ripping sound of the plastic bag being torn apart, mixed with the pattering rain, sounded particularly jarring.

He pulled out half of a top-grade mutated corn that a low-level employee of Lingxiao had left over and thrown away.

He casually wiped his muddy sleeves, opened his chapped lips, and bit down hard.

The incredible sweet aroma of corn instantly stimulated his parched and convulsing stomach.

Hou Liangping chewed mechanically, tears mingling with the rain as they streamed down his face, filling his mouth with a salty, astringent taste.

He looked up at the myriad lights shining from the Lingxiao apartment building not far away.

Those were the free, single-level apartments that he used to look down on, where the poor and working-class people lived.

His teeth were clenching so hard they were grinding together, and his jaw was twitching wildly.

"Master Yan, my men report that this kid's sense of justice has been completely shattered."

Su Jianxin's tone was filled with deep contempt.

"He howled in the rain for half the night last night, and even went to our logistics department, asking with red eyes if we were still hiring janitors to sweep floors and clean toilets."

Yan Qingfeng stared at the face on the screen that looked like a lump of mud.

I just felt incredibly bored.

He once thought that it would take some effort to break the backbone of these self-righteous people.

In the end, all you needed was a pound of premium rice for 1.2 yuan and a free house.

Let them pawn their underwear and line up to become the corporation's dogs.

He has plowed the soil of Handong inch by inch three times with money, technology and violence.

It's rotten to the core, and it can't grow even a single rebellious bone to hurt anyone anymore.

"bite--"

Yan Qingfeng flicked his thumb upwards.

The pure gold points coin spun rapidly in mid-air.

It traced a golden parabola, gleaming with a cold arc under the light.

It landed precisely in the left breast pocket of his suit jacket.

The fabric sagged down, pressing heavily against my chest.

He stood up, his leather shoes making no sound on the carpet.

Walk to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

The freezing rain outside hit the bulletproof glass, and water droplets meandered down.

Wall Street beneath my feet is like an old, venomous snake coiled in a ditch, barely clinging to life.

It reeks of stale, foul-smelling capitalist stench.

"Alright, all the turtles in the pond are stewed until they're mushy, you can't even taste the bones."

Yan Qingfeng put his hands in his trouser pockets, the rustling sound of the fabric rubbing together was particularly clear in the quiet room.

Zhou Yuan swallowed the remaining half of the sausage casing in one gulp, almost choking.

He pounded his chest twice and asked at the top of his lungs.

"Brother Yan, what are we going to do on American turf? Are the weapons we brought enough to cause trouble?"

Yan Qingfeng turned his head to the side.

A cold wind seeped in through the cracks in the window, ruffling his hair and making his scalp tingle.

There wasn't a trace of warmth in his eyes.

"Now that the ruins have been cleared out, it's time to set new rules for this planet."

He glanced at Su Jianxin's sickly face.

"Have Hua Linglong connect to global signals and expose the dirty secrets of these old money families from the Anssa."

Yan Qingfeng turned around and looked at the gloomy New York sky outside.

"Pass down the notification: Lingxiao Group's first global press conference will begin on time in two hours."

"Press conference?"

Zhou Yuan scratched his stiff buzz cut, his hand already unconsciously reaching for the cold gun handle at his lower back.

"What if those old fogies on Wall Street dare to pull out guns and cause trouble in the meeting room?"

Yan Qingfeng didn't turn around; his voice muffledly struck their eardrums through the glass.

"Then weld the doors of the venue shut and let them stay inside, making soup from their own bones."