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

The metallic, bloody smell emanating from Hou Liangping's calves.

It seemed to drift northwards, following the pale blue holographic projection beam on Xiao Chen's wrist.

On the outskirts of Beijing, in the underground cell block of Qincheng Prison for serious offenders.

This place never gets any sunlight all year round; it's as cold and damp as an icebox.

The air was thick with the smell of musty old bedding, mixed with the lingering stench of urine and alkali.

It's so stuffy that even breathing feels like there's a lump of phlegm stuck in your lungs.

"Give it to me! This is mine!"

Zhao Ruilong's eyes were bloodshot, like a starving wild boar, and he let out a whistling roar.

His hands, which used to hold only wine glasses, are now covered in black grime under his fingernails.

He gripped Tian Guofu's already thinning hair tightly with all ten fingers and slammed his head against the wall with all his might.

"You fucking let go! I snatched this steamed bun from the swill bucket!"

Tian Guofu was in so much pain that his eyes rolled back, and his scalp was being torn so badly that blood was streaming out.

He flailed his hands wildly in mid-air, digging them hard into Zhao Ruilong's thin, sunken cheeks.

With a strong scratch of my fingernail, I managed to scrape off two patches of oily skin.

The two rolled around frantically on the cold, damp cement floor like wild dogs guarding their food.

The gray striped prison uniform was covered in urine and mud from the ground, emitting a pungent, sour smell.

A piece of unleavened steamed bun covered in thick green mold and as hard as a rock was sandwiched tightly between the two people's stomachs.

"If your Zhao family hadn't been so greedy back then, would I have been stuck in jail eating rotten food with you?"

Tian Guofu tensed his thigh muscles and slammed his knee heavily into Zhao Ruilong's stomach.

Zhao Ruilong suffered from acid reflux, which caused him to break out in a cold sweat and gag repeatedly.

But he didn't loosen his grip at all, and spat a mouthful of bloody yellow phlegm directly onto Tian Guofu's face.

"What are you pretending to be so high and mighty for! Back when you were taking favors from Yan Qingfeng, you took more than anyone else!"

The two were locked in a fierce and evenly matched fight.

"Sizzle—"

The old CRT television on the high wall of the corridor, which usually only broadcasts the evening news, suddenly emitted a sharp, high-frequency electrical sound.

The ear-piercing noise made the iron railings vibrate and hum.

The forced takeover signal from Yunxiao AI effortlessly severed the prison's top-secret internal network.

Yan Qingfeng's indifferent holographic profile instantly dominated the entire screen.

He sat on a large leather sofa, looking down at the camera.

Holding a glass of whiskey, the ice ball inside the glass clinked against the side of the glass with a crisp, cold sound.

"Global asset pricing power is reset starting today."

Yan Qingfeng's voice, devoid of any warmth, echoed repeatedly in the gloomy corridor.

The camera then pans to the original site of the Dafeng Factory square beneath Yan Qingfeng's feet.

Dozens of Middle Eastern royalty and Wall Street tycoons who usually sit at the top of the Forbes rich list.

He knelt on the scorching marble floor like a dog, his expensive suit and white robe soaked with sweat.

In a fight to secure a spot to sign the transfer agreement, several people were pulling each other's hair, resulting in bloody heads.

"The dollar settlement system has been officially abolished."

Su Jianxin's voice, carrying the sinister quality unique to a refined scoundrel, then came from the television.

"All global commodities are linked to 'Lingxiao Points.' Those who default will have all energy and material supplies physically cut off."

Zhao Ruilong froze instantly.

His thigh muscles twitched suddenly, his neck stiffened, and he stared intently at Yan Qingfeng's face on the screen.

The half-eaten steamed bun covered in green mold in his hand fell into the stinking ditch next to him with a "plop".

A few drops of foul-smelling black water splashed onto his filthy prison trousers.

How powerful he once was in Handong!

He once pointed his finger at Yan Qingfeng, attempting to use a few approvals to skin the Lingxiao Consortium alive.

He even thought that Yan Qingfeng was just a nouveau riche with a little money, someone he could crush at any time.

But now?

They can easily crush centuries-old European money.

They treat Middle Eastern royal families, worth trillions, like watchdogs in a public square.

The businessman he once wanted to trample underfoot has become the only living Yama on this planet.

The stark contrast and the overwhelming fear instantly shattered Zhao Ruilong's fragile nerves.

He was trembling violently, and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably.

It makes a soft, crisp "clucking" sound.

My stomach felt like it was being squeezed into a meat grinder, with waves of intense, cramping pain.

Immediately afterwards, his sphincter completely gave way in his panic.

"puff--"

A yellowish-white substance mixed with a foul odor gushed out from the wide legs of the prison trousers.

The pungent stench of excrement instantly overwhelmed the original urine and alkaline smell in the cell.

It was so strong it was almost suffocating.

"Master Yan... Master Yan..."

Zhao Ruilong managed to squeeze out a few broken, mournful screams, his mental defenses completely collapsing.

He was on all fours, lying on the ground like a mangy dog ​​with a broken spine.

He grabbed the excrement from the ground with both hands and stuffed it into his mouth like a madman.

His lips and chin were covered in yellowish-brown filth.

"I'll eat it! I'll eat dog poop! Please, Master Yan, don't kill me! I'll eat it!"

Tian Guofu was so overwhelmed by the sudden stench that his eyes rolled back.

The stomach wall contracted and spasmed violently.

He scrambled to the corner, clutching his chest and retching violently.

Bitter bile was flowing straight from the corner of his mouth, and he was coughing so hard he couldn't even breathe.

At this moment, in the confidential conference room of the central government in the capital.

The central air conditioning was turned up high, spewing out white, cold mist from the vents.

It was so cold that my bones ached.

Old Xu sank deeply into the large leather chair.

His hands, covered in age spots, were tightly gripping a top-secret report that had just been sent from inside.

The edge of the paper was rubbed violently against my fingertips, producing a dry, fine sound.

The bold black text on the report was glaringly obvious.

The Lingxiao Consortium officially shattered the dollar's hegemony, causing major European stock indices to collapse across the board.

Even top investment banks on Wall Street signed contracts to sell themselves, and Yan Qingfeng completely strangled the lifeline of the global economy.

Old Xu's hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

He swallowed a mouthful of dry saliva, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with difficulty.

I wanted to pick up the special Da Hong Pao tea on the table and take a sip to calm my nerves.

But my fingers were shaking so badly that I couldn't hold the rim of the cup steady.

Clang!

The lid struck the rim of the white porcelain cup, producing a crisp sound.

Half a cup of scalding hot tea spilled out.

The hot, brown tea was splashed onto Old Xu's withered hand, instantly leaving a large, glaring red mark.

Tea dripped through his fingers onto the carpet, emitting a bitter tea aroma.

But Old Xu seemed to have lost his sense of pain, not even flinching.

Only the deathly despair in his eyes grew ever stronger.

"Old boss! You've burned yourself!"

The confidential secretary standing next to him turned pale with fright.

He quickly pulled out his white towel and hurriedly tried to wipe the water off Old Xu's hands.

Old Xu waved his hand weakly and pushed his secretary's hand away.

He tilted his head back and closed his tired eyes.

He let out a long, suffocating sigh, his chest heaving violently.

"Stop rubbing it. This little bit of pain is nothing compared to the slap Yan Qingfeng is giving to global capital."

Old Xu's voice was terribly hoarse, conveying a sense of resignation as if his spine had been completely broken.

"Pass down the order to recall all hidden sentries around Handong from the capital."

The secretary froze, her hand still wiping sweat.

"You mean... we're just going to completely abandon this?"

"Manage? With what authority do you have to manage it!"

Old Xu suddenly opened his eyes, his bloodshot eyes filled with despair.

"Even Wall Street is begging for food on their knees in front of him! Now, anyone in Beijing who even glances in the direction of Handong feels it's an eyesore!"

Old Xu rubbed his throbbing temples tightly with his fingers, as if trying to process the fear.

He suddenly remembered something, turned his head and stared at his secretary with a frighteningly cold look in his eyes.

"By the way, is Zhong Xiaoai, who was demoted to the basement archives department because of her family's downfall, still alive?"

The secretary swallowed hard and answered in a low voice.

"He's alive, but I heard he gets slapped by his subordinates every day and is so hungry he can barely walk."

Old Xu gave a cold laugh, his lips curving into a smile that was more like a grimace.

"It's good that she's alive. Send someone to keep an eye on her, don't let her die too easily."

"Hou Liangping and Zhao Ruilong are both rotting in the sewers. I want to see if this once high and mighty young lady of the Zhong family would beg Yan Qingfeng to take her in as a watchdog for a half-eaten meal?"