Chapter 47

The aftershocks of the Star Island Financial Storm still lingered, as international financial media churned out endless analyses of this sudden crisis, pinning the financial scandal of Hongtu Construction and the minister of finance's corruption case firmly on the rack of shame. Yet a handful of insiders who sensed the precise, massive short-selling force behind it all regarded the mysterious "Qin Feng" and the capital he controlled with deep wariness and intense curiosity.

At the epicenter of the storm—Qin Feng Manor—the calm remained undisturbed.

In the study, Qin Feng listened to Lin Wei's final battle report from Star Island.

"Boss, all short positions have been successfully closed. After deducting all costs and leverage interest, the net profit from this operation is… eighty-seven billion three hundred fifty million U. S. dollars. Funds have been safely routed back to the designated accounts via prearranged channels." Lin Wei's voice came through the encrypted comm, her tone deliberately steady, yet betraying a tremor of exhilaration after completing an earth-shattering campaign.

Nearly ninety billion U. S. dollars! That was nearly the annual GDP of a small nation! Such terrifyingly efficient plunder within such a short time was enough to make any Financial Tycoon sit up and take notice.

"Well done." Qin Feng's tone was flat, as if this astonishing wealth were merely a string of meaningless digits. "The team worked hard. Issue bonuses at the highest standard. You may take a few days off to rest."

"Thank you, Boss!" Lin Wei replied, then the comm cut off.

Qin Feng had just set down the comm device when Su Wenqian knocked and entered, holding a file folder, her expression grave.

"Mr. Qin, the investigation is complete." She placed the folder before him. "The number that sent you the threatening text message—after multiple layers of Suoyuan tracing—was ultimately locked onto one person: Han Minghao."

"Han Minghao?" Qin Feng had no recollection of the name.

"He is the only son of Han Tianli, Chairman of Dinghao Group in the Capital—a core figure in the Capital's elite playboy circle." Su Wenqian swiftly pulled up a data projection. "Dinghao Group has a complex background, originally built on gray industries; though now ostensibly cleaned up, it operates across real estate, entertainment, finance, and still maintains close ties with certain underworld factions, known for its ruthless style. Han Minghao himself is one of Xia Yunge's obsessive suitors, having repeatedly publicly and privately declared her his 'private possession,' warning off other men who approached her."

On the projection appeared a photo of a flamboyantly dressed young man with a haughty gaze—Han Minghao.

"Private possession?" Qin Feng sneered, his eyes cold. He had seen plenty of such arrogant playboys, but to dare lay hands on him and issue threats? That was suicide.

"Should we give him a warning?" Su Wenqian asked. With the power they now held, making Han Minghao suffer silently—or causing Dinghao Group to stumble on certain projects—was child's play.

At that moment, Qin Feng's personal phone rang. The caller ID read: Xia Yunge.

Qin Feng gestured for Su Wenqian to wait, then answered the call.

"Mr. Qin!" Xia Yunge's voice crackled through the line, thick with urgency and apology. "I'm so sorry! Truly, deeply sorry! I… I just found out—did that bastard Han Minghao harass you? Did he send you some awful message?"

Her information was surprisingly swift.

"Just an insignificant text." Qin Feng's tone revealed nothing.

"That's absolutely not my doing!" Xia Yunge rushed to explain, her voice nearly breaking. "I've told him countless times to stop bothering me—I have nothing to do with him! He's just a delusional lunatic! Please, please don't misunderstand!"

She sensed Qin Feng's extraordinary nature and cherished the subtle bond forged through music; she would never let a fool like Han Minghao ruin her image in his eyes.

"I know it has nothing to do with you," Qin Feng said calmly.

Xia Yunge exhaled in relief, then immediately grew furious: "How dare he threaten you! It's… it's utterly despicable! Mr. Qin, don't worry—I'll go find him myself and make him…"

Before she could finish, Qin Feng interrupted her, his voice still calm, yet carrying an irrevocable finality:

"No need."

He paused, then spoke clearly—not just into the phone, but as if issuing an order to Su Wenqian beside him:

"A man who is not three, not four, isn't worth your time—or mine."

"This matter ends here."

"…"

On the other end of the line, Xia Yunge froze. In Qin Feng's words, she heard no anger, no contempt—only utter, towering, absolute… indifference.

As if Han Minghao and his entire Dinghao Group were, in his eyes, nothing more than roadside trash—not even worthy of a second glance, lest it soil his vision.

This attitude, more than any outburst of rage, sent a chill through her—and made her realize with crystalline clarity that the man she faced, Mr. Qin, operated on a plane far beyond her imagination.

"Y-yes, Mr. Qin," Xia Yunge stammered.

After hanging up, Qin Feng turned to Su Wenqian: "You heard?"

Su Wenqian understood instantly: "Understood, Mr. Qin. For 'not three, not four' individuals, we will not expend undue attention. But the necessary 'cleaning' will be ensured by Miss Lin Xuan—to prevent trash from polluting the environment."

Her meaning was clear: overt retaliation would not occur, but covertly, Lin Xuan would ensure Han Minghao and his family never again had the opportunity or ability to harass Qin Feng. It might be an "accidental" investment failure, a critical approval delay, or some "minor" personal troubles—enough to leave a lasting lesson, yet never enough to draw fire back to them.

Qin Feng gave a slight nod and dismissed the matter. His gaze turned to the window, his thoughts already drifting far beyond.

The gains from Star Island were merely one step in capital accumulation. The development of the Galaxy Chip, Isabella's project, Gu Qingcheng's research on the musical scores, and the potential future dealings with the Abnormal Events Investigation Bureau… these were the true boards he played upon.

Han Minghao and his kind? Merely buzzing flies, brushed aside without a second thought on the path to the summit.

Not three, not four—not worth mentioning.