Chapter 438: Global Resource Layout

The massive display screen in the Tokyo Trading Room finally ceased to be dominated by blood‑red and ink‑green.

At exactly eight o'clock in the morning, sunlight slanted in, cutting a bright streak across the mountain‑high piles of reports; dust drifted slowly up and down within that beam, mirroring everyone's mood in the room—stillness weighted after the agitation.

Li Ping'an stood at the edge of the light column, a freshly printed final account clenched in his hand.

The ink was still warm.

"One hundred thirty‑one billion… dollars."

When Zhou Wenbin read the number, his voice was as dry as sandpaper on wood. He lifted the overnight coffee from the table and gulped a big mouthful; the chilling bitterness made him frown, yet his eyes shone startlingly.

This isn't paper wealth; it's real gold and silver already in the account or in the settlement process.

In the past week, they acted like the most patient fishermen, casting and hauling nets with precision amid the wildly fluctuating Nikkei Index waves.

Each technical rebound after panic selling was used by them to offset part of the short positions. Every breath the market took added a bit more to Wanshang's account.

Lin Wanyi closed the folder in her hands and let out a soft sigh.

The industry analysis team she leads has already listed seventeen pages of potential acquisition targets, ranging from a small‑to‑medium enterprise in Nagoya with a unique CNC system patent to a doctoral team in a Tokyo Bay Area laboratory said to improve photoresist formulations.

At that moment, those names and figures swirled in her mind, gradually aligning with the astronomical numbers on the account before her.

That is a bullet.

A bullet capable of piercing many predicaments and barriers.

"Thirty billion stays in Japan."

Li Ping'an's voice rang especially clear in the silent room. He walked to the whiteboard, picked up the marker—still bearing the four characters "Select the best, swallow whole" written during last week's deployment.

"This portion of funds is under Zhou Wenbin's full authority," he wrote, drawing a line under "Thirty billion." "Continue acquiring high‑quality tech assets and teams. The criteria are as we set: core technology, complete team, transferability."

Zhou Wenbin straightened his back, his Adam's apple moving: "President Li, this burden…"

"You can bear it," Li Ping'an cut him off, his gaze calm yet imbued with unquestionable trust. "Remember, we are 'Friendly Capital.' Price is negotiable, terms are discussable, but the core cannot be omitted. If anything is uncertain, contact me at any time."

He paused, then looked at Lin Wanyi: "Wanyi's team will handle the screening, the legal team will be in place within three days. Our moves in Japan must be swift and steady."

"One hundred billion, transfer back to the Hong Kong main account."

The pen tip moved to another figure.

A faint inhalation echoed in the office. Though they were mentally prepared, the weight that number represented still gave everyone a dizzy sensation.

One hundred billion dollars in the autumn of 1985—a sum large enough to lever the economies of certain nations.

"I will personally allocate the use of this money after I return to Hong Kong," Li Ping'an set the pen down, his gaze sweeping every tired yet excited face in the room. "As for the remaining one hundred million…"

He paused.

All eyes converged, and the young researchers instinctively held their breath.

"Allocate rewards according to contribution, for everyone present and all supporting teams behind us."

A rare warmth crept into Li Ping'an's tone, "The concrete plan will be drafted by Wanyi, to be disbursed within three days. This is not a dividend but a bonus—thanks for your sleepless, relentless effort over the past month."

A brief silence.

Then, someone began clapping, and soon the applause swelled into a wave. Some eyes reddened, some rubbed their faces hard to stay awake; Zhou Wenbin grinned, his smile carrying fatigue yet a sense of relief and pride—"We really did it."

Li Ping'an raised his hand to press down, and the applause gradually faded.

"The Tokyo front was fought beautifully," his voice steadied again, "but the war has only just begun. Everyone rest for three days, then—we have a larger battlefield to march onto."

That afternoon, Li Ping'an boarded the flight to Hong Kong.

The first‑class cabin was empty, with only him as a passenger. The flight attendant carefully offered a hot towel and champagne; he asked for a glass of water. As the plane climbed, the outline of Tokyo outside the window shrank, turning into a model spread across the coastline, glittering with tiny lights.

He leaned against the seatback and closed his eyes.

Divine Perception flowed through his body like a tide, soothing the mental fatigue from days of intense focus.

But this was not rest, rather a deeper immersion—the numbers on the accounts, Japan's industry map, the global resource distribution map… countless pieces of information interwove, collided, and reassembled in the depths of his consciousness.

One hundred thirty‑one billion dollars.

If that money lies idle in an account, it is merely a number. But if deployed, and deployed correctly, it becomes a force that reshapes the landscape.

The plane pierced the clouds, a slight turbulence rippling through.

Li Ping'an opened his eyes; outside the window was a vast sea of clouds, the sunset tinting them gold‑red. He suddenly recalled a line he had read in a past life: "The sea stretches boundlessly, the sky becomes its shore; the mountain reaches its summit, I become the peak."

Now he stands on a brand‑new coastline.

Before him lies the vast, era‑defining global resource map. What he must do is build a dike before the crashing waves strike the shore.

Hong Kong, evening.

As the car passed Victoria Harbour, the city lights flickered on. Neon reflected on the dark sea, fragmented and ethereal.

Unlike Tokyo's refined yet tense atmosphere, Hong Kong's night is bustling and lively, carrying the colonial‑era mélange and the burgeoning ambition of Asia's emerging financial hub.

Li Ping'an didn't go home; he headed straight to the Wanshang Headquarters in Central.

The top‑floor office had been rearranged—not the cramped wartime command feel of Tokyo, but more spacious and steady.

One wall displayed a full‑size world map; the opposite wall showed real‑time global major commodity futures prices.

Chen Jiaxin had been waiting at the doorway.

She wore a crisp ivory‑colored suit‑skirt, her long hair tied up; when she saw Li Ping'an emerge from the elevator, her eyes lit up instantly: "President Li!"

"Come in and speak," Li Ping'an nodded, walking straight into the office.

"Tokyo's funds, the first batch of five billion will arrive tomorrow."

Chen Jiaxin followed him, speaking quickly and clearly, "The remainder will be split into three batches, all in place within a week. We have opened special channels at HSBC, Standard Chartered, and Bank of China to ensure swift circulation."

Li Ping'an walked to the world map, his gaze slowly sweeping from Asia to Oceania, Africa, and South America.

"How is the mining company preparation going?"

"It's already registered—Wanshang Mining Co., Ltd."

Chen Jiaxin handed over a document, "Licenses are complete, the team framework is set, the person in charge is Ma Guotao— the one you recruited from Australia last time. He spent twelve years at BHP, familiar with global mining operations."

"What about the oil company?"

"'Wanshang Petroleum Co., Ltd.', simultaneous registration," Chen Jiaxin handed over another document, "The person in charge is Chen Qiming, originally at CNOOC, later spent seven years in exploration at Shell. Connections and technology are both fine."

Li Ping'an took the document but did not open it.

He needed not a paper report, but a person who could execute the strategy.

"Have those two come to my office tomorrow at eight a. m." He turned toward his desk, "Also, notify all senior managers of the Investment Department and Research Department: tomorrow morning at nine, meet in the Grand Conference Room."

"Yes." Chen Jiaxin recorded quickly, hesitated a moment, "President Li, would you like to rest first…"

"No need." Li Ping'an had already sat in the chair, turned on the desk lamp, "Jiaxin, brew me a pot of strong tea. Also, pull up all data from the past three years on global iron ore, crude oil, copper, aluminum and other major bulk commodities: production, price trends, and the controlling parties of the main producing regions."

He lifted his head, the light casting a clear outline on his face.

"Tonight, I will finish reading it."

As the scent of tea spread through the office, Hong Kong outside had already sunk completely into night.

Li Ping'an flipped through the documents one by one, occasionally marking them with a red pen.

His reading speed was extremely fast; wherever his eyes swept, key data were imprinted in his mind like a brand, quickly integrating with the information model already present in his Divine Perception.

Iron ore.

In the Pilbara region of western Australia, beneath that red earth lies the world's highest‑quality iron ore.

Rio Tinto, BHP, Vale—these three giants control over 70% of global trade volume. Their stock prices have risen steadily over the past five years, because everyone believes Japan and the Four Asian Tigers' industrialization will continue to devour these black "staples".

Oil.

The situation in the Middle East remains volatile, the Iran‑Iraq war is still ongoing. The North Sea oil fields are on the rise, and the Soviet Union's Siberia is another massive entity.

After the turbulence of the 1970s, oil prices are now in a relatively stable period, but every ripple of geopolitics makes the futures market tremble.

Also Africa's copper and cobalt, South America's lithium and bauxite…

Li Ping'an's red pen circled one point after another on the map.

He knew the historical trajectory—after the Plaza Accord, the yen's appreciation leading to the burst of Japan's domestic asset bubble was only the first domino.

What followed was a phased retreat of Japan's outbound investment boom, and a subtle shift in global bulk‑commodity demand expectations.

But this shift, no one has seen yet.

Or rather, no one is willing to believe it.

At two a. m., Li Ping'an finally set down the last report.

He walked to the window, overlooking the sleeping Hong Kong. In the distance, Kowloon Peninsula's lights were much sparser, and only on Victoria Harbour's surface did a ferry's navigation light drift slowly.

In his mind, a clear plan had taken shape.

First step: funds in place, company ready.

Second step: silently purchase Rio Tinto, BHP, and Vale shares on the open market. No public announcements, no alarm, buying through dozens of offshore accounts in a dispersed manner, like streams flowing into the sea, slow and steady.

Third step: wait for the moment.

No, not merely waiting.

He intends to create the moment.

The next day at eight a. m., Ma Guotao and Chen Qiming arrived on time.

Ma Guotao was a sturdy man in his early fifties, his face bronzed by the Australian sun, his palms wide, thick, and rough—clearly a veteran of years in the mines.

Chen Qiming was more refined, wearing gold‑rimmed glasses, but his gaze was sharp; when he spoke, he habitually tapped his fingers on the desk, as if striking exploration data.

Li Ping'an offered no small talk, moving straight to the subject.

"Both of you, Wanshang is entering the global resources arena."

He had Chen Jiaxin hand over two thick proposal books, "Mining company, first‑stage targets: Australian iron ore, Africa's Zambia‑Congo copper‑cobalt region, Chilean lithium. Oil company, first‑stage: focus on exploration blocks in the North Sea, Southeast Asia, and Africa's west coast, and… potential future Soviet oil‑gas asset opportunities."

Ma Guotao flipped through the proposal, his brow gradually furrowing: "President Li, these targets are fine, but timing… global bulk‑commodity prices are still high, and these giants' stock prices remain robust. Our entry cost would be steep."

"What if prices drop?" Li Ping'an asked.

"Drop?" Chen Qiming pushed his glasses, "Unless a global economic recession occurs, at the current pace of industrialization, resource demand will only increase, not decrease. Bullish voices dominate the market absolutely."

"Then let the bearish voices be heard," Li Ping'an said evenly.

The office fell silent for a moment.

Ma Guotao and Chen Qiming exchanged a glance, both seeing shock in each other's eyes. As industry veterans, they instantly grasped the implication behind the words.

"Are you saying… manipulating market expectations?" Ma Guotao lowered his voice.

"No." Li Ping'an corrected him, "It's about releasing risk signals that already exist. After the Plaza Accord, the yen's appreciation means Japan, the largest resource importer, will inevitably see its economic growth slow. The Four Asian Tigers' industrialization also faces rising cost pressures. These are facts."

He stood and walked to the world map.

"We need some heavyweight voices—renowned international economists and industry analysis reports—to articulate these facts, to the point where the market begins to doubt the myth of a perpetual resource bull market."

His finger lightly tapped the map, "When doubt spreads, stock prices will develop cracks."

"At that moment," he turned, his gaze blazing, "will be the time for us to take heavy positions."

9 a. m., Grand Conference Room.

The fifty‑person conference room was packed, filled with the aroma of coffee and paper. Core staff from the Investment, Research, and International Business Departments were all present; everyone knew that after the Tokyo victory, an even bigger move was inevitable.

When Li Ping'an entered, the murmurs vanished instantly.

He went straight to the front, did not sit, and rested both hands on the desk edge.

"The Tokyo operation proved that in the financial markets, we can execute precise Sniping and reap huge profits."

His voice was not loud, yet it reached everyone's ears clearly, "But what is finance? It is water; it can carry a boat, or capsize it. It must flow toward real industries, irrigate real land, to have fundamental meaning."

Behind him, the projection screen lit up, displaying a world map dotted with countless mineral and energy symbols.

"From today onward, Wanshang's strategic focus shifts."

Li Ping'an picked up the laser pointer, the red dot landing on Australia, "From financial arbitrage to global resource deployment. What we buy are not stock tickers, but underground mines, oil in the sea, the lifeblood of industrial development for the next thirty years."

A suppressed inhalation rippled through the conference room.

This shift is so massive that some traders accustomed to stock‑market battles feel bewildered.

"I know what you're thinking." Li Ping'an scanned the room, "Finding mining boring? Slow returns? Long cycles? Not as exciting as the stock market?"

He paused, the red dot of the laser pointer moving slowly across the map.

"That I tell you, true excitement isn't watching numbers jump on a screen, but one day, when we need steel, we can no longer be at the mercy of others' quotes; when we need special metals, we can have our own supply channels; when others try to choke us with resources, we can calmly tell them—'We have them too.'"

His voice suddenly rose: "This isn't just business, it's strategy! It's the backbone supporting national industrialization! It's the toughest confidence we of this generation can leave for those who come after!"

The meeting lasted a full three hours.

Specific division of labor, fund allocation, establishment of overseas offices, building of information networks… tasks were broken down one by one. When Li Ping'an announced the meeting's adjournment, many were still immersed in that mixture of shock and exhilaration.

Chen Jiaxin stayed behind to organize the documents; looking up, she saw Li Ping'an still standing before the map, his back straight yet revealing a deep fatigue.

"Mr. Li, would you like…"

"I'm fine." Li Ping'an rubbed his forehead, "Jiaxin, there's still one matter for you to handle personally."

"Please go ahead."

"Through our connections in London and New York, we'll seek out a few… influential but currently strapped international economists and commodity analysts."

Li Ping'an lowered his voice, "Sponsor their research, have them produce reports, hold seminars. As for the research focus…"

A faint, icy curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Focus on 'structural easing of global resource demand in the post-Plaza Accord era,' 'supply surplus risk from overinvestment,' and 'potential bottlenecks in the industrialization process of emerging markets.' The data must be detailed, the logic rigorous, and it should appear absolutely objective and independent."

Chen Jiaxin understood instantly: "Understood. Let them speak—the more professional and alarming, the better."

"Right." Li Ping'an nodded, "The market trusts two kinds of voices: the hype-man during euphoria, and the crow of doom during panic. What we need to do is amplify the crow's voice until it's loud enough."

Three days later, a newly arranged "Global Monitoring Center" on the basement level of Wanshang's Hong Kong headquarters began operations.

Here there are no windows; the walls are lined with sound-absorbing material, and dozens of screens display real-time data from major global exchanges, news agency flashes, and even shipping information and port throughput reports obtained via special channels.

Li Ping'an spends two hours here each day.

He watches the share prices of Rio Tinto, BHP, and Vale, still slowly rising. The market remains optimistic, and the discourse of a "resource supercycle" remains mainstream.

But he is not in a hurry.

The seeds have already been sown.

The first research report questioning long-term iron ore demand, written by an "independent economist," will be released next week at an industry forum in London. More will follow, like gradually densing raindrops striking market confidence.

Another week passed, and Li Ping'an received an encrypted telephone call from Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei in Beijing.

"Your side is making big moves." Zhou Zhengwei's voice gave no hint of pleasure or anger, "Resource layout is a century-spanning plan. But steps must be steady, especially overseas, where the situation is complex."

"I understand." Li Ping'an stood by the office window, watching the bustling crowd below in Central, "So I need a safety lock."

"Speak."

"Minerals, especially those in Africa and South America, are easy to extract but hard to ship out. Local politics are turbulent, tribal conflicts, pirate harassment… we need reliable armed guards."

Li Ping'an said slowly, "I've heard that after the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan, many experienced veterans have no livelihood."

The other end of the line fell silent for a few seconds.

"You want to use Soviet soldiers?" Zhou Zhengwei's tone grew stern, "This is very sensitive."

"Not under the state's name, but under 'Wanshang International Security Services Company,' a private military contractor registered in Hong Kong."

Li Ping'an had already prepared his explanation: "We offer high salaries, formal contracts, rotating leave. They provide professional security services. Purely commercial."

He added, "These people are familiar with heavy equipment operation, have combat experience, and their discipline is far stronger than ordinary mercenaries. Moreover… they probably have little attachment to the current Soviet Union."

A longer silence.

Then Zhou Zhengwei let out a soft sigh: "You kid, really think ten steps ahead. I can't give you any overt support on this. But… if it's purely commercial hiring, in line with international practice, then handle it according to commercial rules."

"That's enough." Li Ping'an knew this was tacit approval.

After hanging up, he immediately summoned Wang Zhenbiao—the man who had followed him from the Soviet Union and now oversees special affairs.

"Zhenbiao, I'm giving you a new mission." Li Ping'an's gaze was deep, "Go to the Soviet Union; this time it's not just about recruiting engineers and scientists. I want you to contact those veterans returning from Afghanistan, especially officers and technical specialists. Under the name 'An Bang International Security Company,' recruit them and build our overseas security force."

Wang Zhenbiao's eyes lit up: "Mr. Li, this is great! I've contacted those old soldiers before—they can really fight, and they're truly frustrated. If we pay them well, they'll surely come."

"Remember a few points." Li Ping'an said solemnly, "First, voluntariness, no coercion. Second, strict background checks—reject those with bad habits or extremist ideologies. Third, formal contracts, favorable treatment, but discipline must be strict—I want a guard unit, not a gang."

"Understood!" Wang Zhenbiao straightened his back, "I'll handle it personally!"

Night had deepened.

Li Ping'an remained alone in the office, the main light off, only a desk lamp illuminating the spread world map.

His finger traced from Australia's Pilbara, to Africa's copper belt, then to Chile's Atacama salt flats, finally stopping at the vast Siberian expanse of the Soviet Union.

Financial capital is a fishing net, scooping up floating wealth amidst market turbulence.

Industrial capital is a hoe, digging foundations deep in the land.

And armed guards are a fence, protecting the fruits already in hand and those soon to be grasped.

These three are gradually coming together in his layout.

Outside the window, Victoria Harbour, an ocean freighter blew its horn and slowly sailed into the dark sea. That long, resonant blast pierced the night, like a deep footnote in this tumultuous age.

Li Ping'an lifted the now-cold tea and took a sip.

Bitter then sweet.

He knew Tokyo's cold snap was merely a prelude; the true great swell was brewing in the depths of global resources.

And he had already placed his piece.

Each subsequent step will move greater interests and stir deeper currents.

But this time he is no longer merely a sniper.

He is a planner.

The board is set; his opponents are the crocodiles that have controlled Earth's resource lifelines for a century, the invisible international capital that sways price expectations, and the intricate, deceptive geopolitics.

Li Ping'an set down his teacup, his gaze falling on the rooster-shaped landmass on the world map.

There lies his origin, and also the final destination of all his plans.