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

"Bang!"

The dull thud of the crystal glass crashing onto the glass table echoed across the 33rd floor of the Lingxiao Building.

The crisp, destructive sound traveled along the encrypted radio waves of the Lu Yuan fleet.

In an instant, it traversed half the globe, striking the very backbone of the Atlantic night.

It is 100 nautical miles from the coast of Paris.

Hundreds of heavy cruisers disguised as ocean freighters have shed their gray camouflage.

The black cannon barrels stood erect in the sea breeze, pointing directly at the European continent.

"Boom—"

Hundreds of high-frequency electromagnetic pulse bombs tore through the night sky, their exhaust trails leaving blinding crimson afterimages on the sea surface.

Paris, the centuries-old capital known as the City of Lights of Europe.

One second it was brightly lit and extravagantly decorated.

The next second, a blinding, eerie blue orb burst forth from ten thousand meters in the sky.

There was no earth-shattering explosion.

Only a high-frequency "sizzling" sound of electrical overload instantly pierced through the entire city.

The powerful electromagnetic pulse was like an invisible giant net, looming over us.

"Slap, slap, slap!"

Tens of thousands of streetlights along the Seine had their bulbs explode in unison, shattering glass shards all over the ground.

The tens of thousands of neon lights on the Eiffel Tower were instantly melted by the high-voltage current.

The city's power grid hub erupted with blinding sparks and billowing black smoke.

The strong, pungent smell of burning plastic cables, mixed with the acrid odor of ozone, instantly flooded the street.

In a mere second, bustling Paris was plunged into deathly darkness and silence.

Deep in the Alps lies the Rothschild family's centuries-old castle.

Old Loeb was sitting in a leather swivel chair.

The antique crystal chandelier overhead shattered with a "bang," and shards of glass rained down on him.

In an instant, everything was plunged into complete darkness.

Even the military backup generator in the corner, which was supposedly capable of withstanding a nuclear explosion, only made two "click" sounds of leaking air before becoming completely unusable.

"Well!"

Loeb's heart clenched as if it were being tightly constricted by a barbed wire.

The muscles at the base of his thighs were twisted into a tight knot, and he was convulsing and shaking uncontrollably.

Panic turned into a real chill, rushing up the tailbone straight to the back of the head.

Cold sweat suddenly poured out, instantly soaking through the pure cotton shirt underneath.

The dampness clung to his old skin, making him feel so cold that acid reflux seeped from his bones.

"Counterattack! Counterattack immediately!"

Old Loeb flailing about in the darkness like a madman, his hands bleeding from cuts made by shards of glass.

Fresh blood seeped out, carrying a salty, rusty smell.

He finally found the anti-pulse military communicator under the table, which was covered with a thick lead plate.

His Adam's apple bobbed laboriously as he swallowed a mouthful of bitter saliva.

He strained his voice, which sounded like a broken bellows, and screamed hoarsely into the microphone.

"Connect with Wall Street! Get in touch with the Federal Reserve!"

"Initiate the highest level of financial sanctions and completely destroy the Lingxiao Consortium's Nasdaq shell!"

"Short their stocks! Seize all their offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands! I want Yan Qingfeng bankrupt and begging for food tonight!"

Across the ocean, on Wall Street in New York, in a high-level conference room of a top investment bank.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly, but inside it felt like an icebox.

The central air conditioning was blowing out cold air, and several Wall Street tycoons stared at the holographic screen, their faces ashen.

"Mr. Loeb...it's impossible to break it...it's simply impossible to break it!"

The investment bank president's legs were as weak as overcooked noodles, and he had to hold onto the mahogany conference table to keep from kneeling.

His upper and lower teeth clashed wildly, making a series of small, crisp "clucking" sounds.

"Useless! You have trillions of dollars in liquid funds, and you can't even crush a nouveau riche's scheme?"

Loeb's roar on the other end of the phone was filled with hysterical madness.

"It's not a funding issue! It's that they're not even publicly listed!"

The investment bank president felt his stomach churning violently, with sour bile rising straight to his throat.

He opened his mouth wide, gagged, and forced himself to swallow the bitter liquid back down.

"The Lingxiao Consortium has no stock code, does not issue any bonds, and doesn't even have a publicly available financial report!"

"They are a completely invisible dictatorial empire that doesn't rely on the US dollar for funding!"

The CEO's voice cracked in two, revealing a despair that came from having his livelihood completely destroyed.

"What about their overseas asset accounts? Freeze their cash flow!"

Old Loeb was so angry that he kept scratching his thinning hair, and blood streaks appeared on his scalp.

"It's no use...it's completely useless."

The president's bladder suddenly tightened, and the urge to urinate surged uncontrollably upwards.

"Yan Qingfeng has rendered half of China's legal tender obsolete, while he's operating entirely within the country using Lingxiao Points!"

"Our sanctions were like punching cotton."

"The common people only recognize Yan Qingfeng's points; they don't need a single penny of foreign exchange anymore!"

On the other end of the phone, old Loeb froze completely in the dark castle.

A profound sense of despair instantly shattered his nerves.

Financial hegemony? Dollar hegemony?

Compared to Yan Qingfeng's self-sufficient extreme system, which relies on nuclear fusion and mutated food, it's not even worth a piece of waste paper.

The 33rd floor of Lingxiao Building, Handong Province.

The air conditioning here is still biting cold, and the air is filled with the fragrance of high-grade fir.

Yan Qingfeng stood with his hands behind his back in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

On the holographic screen, a large area of ​​satellite cloud imagery of Europe appears as a glaring expanse of black.

That was a masterpiece of hundreds of cities losing power simultaneously.

Su Jianxin, wearing expensive leather shoes, quickly walked up behind Yan Qingfeng.

He held a freshly brewed iced Americano in his hand, the ice cubes clinking against the glass.

"Master Yan, the power grid in Paris is completely burned out."

Su Jianxin pushed up his reflective gold-rimmed glasses, a cruel sneer spreading across his otherwise refined but depraved face.

"Old Loeb just got desperate and tried to find our financial loopholes on Wall Street."

He took a sip of the bitter black coffee, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

"As a result, those old devils from Wall Street searched everywhere, but they couldn't even pry open a crack in our consortium."

"We will not go public or raise foreign capital."

"Their financial sickle, which they've been using for hundreds of years, has now completely fallen into the air."

Yan Qingfeng snorted coldly.

In those dark, deep eyes, there was not a trace of human warmth.

He stared at the desolate European continent on the screen, as if admiring himself for stepping on a nest of ants.

"Capital of the old era would not survive without the Nasdaq bell-ringing machine."

Yan Qingfeng casually straightened the cuffs of his black shirt, his arrogance palpable.

"Playing the game with the rules they set is something only idiots do."

Yan Qingfeng turned around, his gaze sharp as a knife.

"I don't play house with them; I keep the power to overturn the table in my own hands."

Su Jianxin's thigh muscles tensed slightly, and a hint of coldness seeped from between his bones.

He took a half step closer, deliberately lowering his voice, his tone revealing an barely suppressed murderous intent.

"Master Yan, the financial sector can't hold us back anymore; those old devils are desperate."

Su Jianxin's fingers flew across the tablet, bringing up a dark red interface.

"Data just intercepted by Ye Qingmei's 'Spider' intelligence network."

"An SSS-level bounty just appeared on the international dark web five minutes ago."

Su Jianxin licked his chapped lower lip, his eyes filled with malice.

"Those old money guys in Europe have pooled together a billion dollars in cash to buy your head."

The biting cold air swirled in the office.

He tilted his head back and downed the strong, spicy liquor in one gulp.

The fiery liquor burned his esophagus, and he exhaled a breath of cold air carrying the aroma of malt.

"One billion US dollars?"

Yan Qingfeng casually tossed the empty wine glass onto the Persian carpet, making a dull thud.

He turned his head and looked out the window at the dazzling cyber lights of Handong, his voice so cold it could freeze bones.

"These old bastards are so poor they only have money left to buy their lives."

Yan Qingfeng curled his lips into a smile, making no attempt to hide the savagery in his eyes.

"Notify the security department to open the gates around the manor."

"Let them come to their deaths."