Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Dozens of meters away, the fully armed SWAT team members stood still, their guns lowered, but all eyes were fixed on this direction. Outside the cordon, the crowd had stopped its commotion, and countless cell phones and cameras were pointed in this direction. The helicopters were still circling overhead, the sound of their rotors coming from above, but they seemed to be lowering their voices, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Zhang Qiliang wrote with great focus.

The pen glides across the paper, and lines of English flow smoothly. Occasionally, there's a pause, as if recalling the spelling of a name, before continuing to write.

A few dozen seconds later, a muffled thunderous roar came from afar.

That was the sound of the building falling into the Atlantic Ocean.

The sound was deep and distant, but everyone could feel the vibration—the ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, as if some enormous creature had sneezed in the distance.

Zhang Qiliang didn't even look up, continuing to write the last line.

After he finished writing, he closed the notebook and handed it back to Conrad along with the pen.

Conrad took it and looked down at it.

The notebook contained seven or eight long strings of English names—all letters, some of which looked familiar, and some were completely unfamiliar.

At the very bottom was a string of characters he didn't recognize, square and with complex strokes.

“These are the main institutions that are following vulture funds and shorting the food delivery sector,” Zhang Qiliang said. “I want to see all the people working at vulture funds and those at the department manager level or above within a week at the addresses listed at the bottom of the page.”

Conrad opened his mouth, then instinctively said, "But I'm just a sheriff..."

Before he could finish speaking, an old voice came through the earpiece.

The voice carried a commanding authority, yet also an undisguised urgency: "Promise him! I swear, you won't be the sheriff anytime soon!"

Conrad paused for a moment.

The next second, Conrad Vanderbilt III straightened his back, stood at attention, and saluted: "...I will do my utmost, Sir!"

That posture was so perfect it could be included in a textbook.

Zhang Qiliang nodded.

"Shh-"

A whistle rang out from the side.

Thomas Lane, a representative of L&L Development Group, wandered over at some point.

“Sir,” Thomas gestured in the direction of Da Yang, “it sounds like you’re leaving soon?”

Zhang Qiliang took out his phone and glanced at it: "The next flight back is in fifteen minutes."

Thomas laughed: "That's not enough time for check-in... Well, that's definitely not a problem for you."

As he spoke, Thomas also took out his phone, looked down at the screen, and saw it was filled with messages.

“Someone asked me to ask you a few questions,” Thomas looked up. “Would you mind taking up a little of my time… Well, I owe a lot of favors to get this job, the American kind.”

"Okay." Zhang Qi nodded after glancing at Thomas for a second.

Thomas was invigorated.

He cleared his throat and began to relay: “There are a few gentlemen—” he pointed to the empty base of the building in front of him, “who are also tenants of this building, and they can assure you that they have absolutely no connection with the vulture fund.”

At this point, Thomas's phone started vibrating incessantly, and the screen even froze for a moment as new messages flooded in.

He glanced down at it and continued reading, “Now, their client data, their information, their—well, in their words—'everything,' has all gone on vacation to the Atlantic.”

My phone is still vibrating.

“Of course, of course,” Thomas quickly added, “they’re definitely not saying they’re demanding anything from you…yes, not protesting…yes, not expressing any dissatisfaction. Damn it—”

His eyes couldn't keep up.

“In short,” Thomas looked up and shrugged, “they mean…”

How should I express this to a Mr. Superman from Da Yang?

"Want an American-style favor?" Zhang Qiliang said it for him.

"Shh-"

The whistles were louder than before, filled with undisguised envy and excitement.

Thomas nodded vigorously, his eyes shining: "Then you are their God, and always will be."

“No.” Zhang Qiliang shook his head. “I don’t believe there are any truly innocent people on Wall Street… Of course, if they are indeed relatively innocent, they can seek compensation from vulture funds and their associates.”

Thomas blinked: "What do you mean by 'relatively innocent'?"

"That's your judgment," Zhang Qiliang said.

Thomas was stunned.

He pointed to himself, his voice filled with disbelief: "Me? You mean me?"

“Yes.” Zhang Qi nodded. “You’re good at speculation, and you don’t lack judgment.”

Thomas stood there, his expression extremely complicated.

Surprise, fear, pressure, memories—various emotions flashed across his face, finally settling into a somewhat helpless smile.

“Thank you for your praise,” Thomas said, unconcerned that Zhang Qi had seen through his little scheme. “You surely know how difficult it is to achieve dignity in America by suppressing only a part of your conscience… well, it’s a systemic problem, you know.”

"Any more questions?" Zhang Qiliang asked.

"Yes." Thomas looked down and switched pages, scrolling through the screen even faster.

“Many gentlemen here say—” He gestured around the buildings—those office buildings dozens of stories high, those skyscrapers gilded by the setting sun, “that vulture funds and those bunch of idiots dare to attack a sovereign nation’s domestic industries that involve tens of millions of jobs. They have only themselves to blame.”

Zhang Qiliang nodded.

Thomas continued, "These gentlemen want to ask... well,"

Looking at the dense messages of flattery and euphemisms on his phone screen, Thomas couldn't take it anymore, or rather, he had keenly realized the right way to talk to Superman: "In fact, what they really want to ask is, what are your thoughts on other industries and other funds?"

"Find a rule first, and then exploit the loopholes?" Zhang Qiliang smiled slightly.

Thomas shrugged: What else? That's how life is in this neighborhood.

Zhang Qiliang looked at him calmly.

“I don’t have a specific opinion on any particular industry, but,” Zhang Qiliang finally paused for two seconds, “…this world isn’t perfect, but it can’t get any worse.”

"In other words..." Thomas seemed thoughtful, feeling somewhat enlightened, but unable to fully articulate it.

"Don't be immoral."

After saying those four words, Zhang Qiliang patted Thomas on the shoulder.

"Goodbye."

--------

The Asian youth quickly turned the street corner and disappeared from sight without any obstruction.

Under the warm morning light, only the empty building foundations and the silent buildings along the entire street remained.

And a group of people standing still, not knowing what to do.

James Whitman was the first to speak.

The chief investment officer of Metropolitan Life Insurance turned his gaze from the empty building foundation to Conrad Vanderbilt III, who stood to the side. His face bore a complex expression—anger, humiliation, and a certain inexplicable emptiness.

“This is New York,” he said. “This is the work ethic of the Manhattan Police Department.”

Conrad is on the phone.

He was turned to the side, one hand on his earpiece, the other raised in mid-air, listening to the person on the other end. Hearing Whitman's voice, he glanced at the other person, then continued listening to the call.

A few seconds later, he said "Understood" into the microphone, hung up, and turned around: "You mean, we should call the police?"

“Ah, so I’m only calling the police now…” Whitman had barely uttered a few words when her phone rang.

He glanced down at the caller ID, quickly answered, and put the caller ID to his ear.

"……what?"

His voice changed.

The initial anger and humiliation vanished, replaced by confusion, then deeper confusion, and then a rapidly spreading chill.

“Wait,” he said, “what did you say?”

The person on the other end of the phone was speaking.

Whitman's face paled little by little, as if something was drawing color from his face.

After hanging up the phone, the sheriff was already standing in front of Whitman, holding a notebook and pen: "Please go ahead."

“…” Whitman swallowed hard. “The accounting department recently calculated that the equity stake held by Metropolitan Wing Security in the 875 Third A. Venue building is valued at $999.”

--------

Cyberspace.

That's it? These vultures were just let go like that? They even have seven days of free time!

Do you have some misunderstanding about free time?

You fool, those seven days are reserved for them to go bankrupt, be liquidated, and be stripped of everything they have.

Do you know the treatment the top executives of DaYang Food Delivery are currently enjoying? Every time they close their eyes, they dream of delivering food for at least five years. —Attached is a recording of a meeting with a certain executive (entirely in Chinese; most viewers won't understand the specific content, but everyone can hear the deep exhaustion and despair in it).

Do you know what kind of treatment these fund managers will enjoy in the future? Similarly, every time they close their eyes, they will dream of delivering takeout for five years—and the most pleasant thing is that after waking up, these gentlemen will have to continue delivering takeout.

Within seven days, banks, funds, communities, courts, police stations... this land does not deserve to be called America until all these guys' wealth, status, and dignity are stripped away completely!

92 Sword Control Technique

Cyberspace, another topic, is also rapidly gaining traction.

"What do you mean by 'don't be immoral'? This is finance! It's a mathematical model! It's risk pricing! You're talking to me about morality?"

The poster's profile picture was a candlestick chart, and their ID was "Quantitative Life," clearly indicating they were an insider.

"What is the essence of capital flow? It's the risk discounting of expected returns. Whether you're going long or short, you're betting on the probability distribution of a certain direction. What does this have to do with morality?"

Someone replied below: "Shorting the food delivery sector? Betting that millions of delivery riders will lose their jobs, is that also a probability distribution?"

Quantify Life replied instantly: "That's market judgment! The market believes that the growth logic of the food delivery industry has structural flaws, the profit model is unsustainable, and the valuation is too high—that's called professional analysis, not moral judgment!"

Someone else chimed in: "So your conclusion is that this industry should disappear?"

"I didn't say that."

"You're betting on it disappearing, isn't that because you want it to disappear?"

"This isn't a matter of whether we want it or not! It's hedging! It's risk coverage! We're simply managing the overall risk exposure of our portfolio!"

"Okay, let me rephrase the question—if this industry really disappears because of your 'risk exposure management,' what about the more than ten million riders? What about you?"

QuantLife paused for five seconds: "That's a matter for regulators."

Someone immediately replied, "The regulators didn't do anything, so you guys went ahead and did it?"

"This is a market behavior!"

“Okay, market behavior,” the man replied. “Then let me ask you—if one day, someone even more powerful uses the same ‘market behavior’ to settle scores with you, would you accept it?”

Quantify Life did not reply.

[The Economist Online Roundtable]

More academic discussions are underway.

"Financial Capital and Moral Constraints: How to Define 'Don't Be Unethical'"

The first speaker was a well-known economist, whose verified identity is "Professor of Finance Department of XX University".

"We need to clarify a fundamental concept: What is the essence of financial activity? It is the allocation of resources in time and space. Capital markets guide capital flows to the most efficient areas through price signals, which is the core mechanism of the modern economy. Introducing moral judgment into financial decision-making sounds appealing, but it is almost impossible in practice—how do you quantify morality? What is the risk premium of morality? What indicators are used for fundamental analysis of morality?"

Someone replied: "Professor, you've explained it very clearly. Let me ask you a question—if the result of the 'efficient allocation' of financial capital is that ten million people lose their jobs and hundreds die in traffic accidents, is that considered 'efficient'?"

The professor replied, "This is an externality issue. In theory, external costs can be internalized through taxation, subsidies, and regulation. If regulation is lacking, that is the responsibility of the regulators, not the financial sector."

Some immediately countered: "When regulation is lacking, can financial capital do whatever it wants? What's the point of professional ethics then?"

Another person chimed in: "Professor, you just said that 'morality cannot be quantified.' Then let me ask you—when you teach every day, do you tell your students, 'Before shorting an industry, you don't need to consider how many people that industry supports'?"

The professor was silent for a moment, then replied, "This falls under the scope of ethics classes."

"So finance classes don't cover ethics?"