Chapter 992: Powerful Culture

When the applause died down, Zhou Andong let out a light laugh and held up five fingers.

“Our Chinese nation has five thousand years of civilization; for at least a thousand years, we were the world’s number one.”

“Of the world’s four thousand ethnic groups, we are the only one with an unbroken culture and civilization spanning five millennia.”

“And the United States? They didn’t even establish their nation until 1776—how many years is that now?”

“Five thousand years—dare they match China in another five thousand? Huh?”

“Of the world’s ten great civilizations—ancient Egypt, ancient Babylon, ancient Greece, ancient Rome, ancient India, ancient Maya—who ever mentioned ancient China?”

“Those nine civilizations all collapsed and vanished, but China alone has endured to this day, despite occasional incursions by neighboring barbarian states into the Central Plains.”

“They were quickly assimilated by our powerful culture—our culture’s advancement is unmatched by any other.”

“I’ll say something extreme: we won the eight-year War of Resistance. But if we’d lost, would you believe that in one or two hundred years, Japan would be just one of our provinces?”

“You come here, I assimilate you. We draw them in with our strengths, transform them; if they’re bad, we wear them down to death.”

“Boom!”

Laughter and applause erupted again. Listening to Zhou Andong’s speech wasn’t just enjoyable—it felt deeply satisfying, exhilarating.

Especially the reporters—no matter whether Zhou Andong’s speech would be broadcast, they all felt today had been worth it.

Zhuo Qihua’s face turned from dark to ashen, but whenever he sensed someone watching him, he immediately grinned and clapped a couple times.

“Who but an idiot could claim the Chinese lack intelligence? If we lacked intelligence, how could our civilization have endured five thousand years?”

“From the moment we’re born, we’re steeped in Sun Tzu’s Art of War, Guiguzi, the Thirty-Six Stratagems—and the supreme strategy is to retreat.”

“We’re born thinking with our minds—how can foreigners possibly compete with us?”

“Do you think they’d even understand the Thirty-Six Stratagems, or that retreat is the best strategy?”

At first, though everyone knew who Zhou Andong was referring to, he’d been restrained, speaking only obliquely.

But now, though he still didn’t name names, it was as good as pointing directly at Zhuo Qihua’s nose and cursing him.

Many in the audience silently cheered: Zhou Andong is awesome—he’s the absolute model of our generation.

“Some people become slaves to foreigners, bowing to foreign fathers—that’s their choice, fine, we don’t care. But to constantly claim the Chinese lack manners? How ignorant and ridiculous.”

“Is China really not a land of propriety? In the 18th century, great European thinkers—Britain’s Temple, France’s Voltaire, Germany’s Leibniz and Wolff—held Confucian teachings on propriety in the highest regard.”

“Temple believed Confucianism was an ethics system covering political, economic, public, and private morality. Voltaire believed the propriety promoted by Confucius embodied noble, practical virtues.”

“He urged Europeans to respond to Chinese culture with three things: praise, shame, and imitation. Because of this clear scholarly orientation, they were called ‘European Confucians.’”

“This proves their praise of China as a land of propriety was no exaggeration—it was genuine recognition of the high level our civilization had reached in spiritual culture.”

“So I urge some people: when you praise your foreign father, first learn his history properly. Don’t stand on this stage and spout nonsense when you know nothing.”

“To ask a nation with five thousand years of civilization to learn the culture of a country with only a few hundred years? That only makes you look ignorant and foolish—you’ll become a laughingstock. If your American father found out, he might even be angry at you, his uneducated son.”

All eyes turned to Zhuo Qihua. He clenched his fists tightly, face ashen, yet forced a smile to show his composure. If he stood up and left now, it would be slapping himself in the face.

One official in the audience showed concern: Was it wise to target such a famous Hong Kong businessman? Might it harm our province’s investment and recruitment efforts?

The official wanted to stop Zhou Andong’s speech, but glanced at the class president and vice president. Seeing both senior figures smiling, he immediately abandoned the idea.

The gambling king’s daughter stared unblinkingly at Zhou Andong, her eyes sparkling with fascination.

This man on stage was truly magnetic—every inch of him radiated intoxicating brilliance.

She’d seen countless young elites, and far more handsome men than Zhou Andong.

But no man had ever radiated such dazzling light on a stage.

Especially this targeted speech—clearly improvised on the spot—deepened her fascination with his knowledge and talent.

She silently chuckled: even if she were five or six years younger, she wouldn’t let this man slip away.

Jian Qiu smiled faintly, her eyes fixed on Zhou Andong, glistening with emotion.

“Husband, tonight you’re definitely getting a special reward.”

Among those present, besides Zhuo Qihua, one other person’s expression was far from pleasant: Lian Xiangzhi.

Zhou Andong’s constant references to “foreign fathers” and “foreign slaves” made him feel like needles were pricking his back—he was restless and seethed with hatred toward Zhou Andong.

“As a Chinese person, who doesn’t want their homeland to be strong? But do you know what the foundation of strength truly is?”

Zhou Andong held the microphone and scanned the audience.

“Military!”

“Education!”

“Economy!”

“Money!”

Voices rose in chorus—everyone shouted different answers.

Zhou Andong smiled: “All your answers have merit, but none are entirely right. During the eight-year War of Resistance, were we poor? Did our people have education? We drove the Japanese out with millet and rifles.”

During the War to Resist US Aggression and Aid Korea, facing the US-led, fully armed coalition, our ancestors poured out their blood and fearless spirit, crushing them into utter chaos and driving them back across the 38th parallel.

“So, the most fundamental basis of a nation’s strength is vast territory. No matter how hard you try, Singapore will never become a great power. Its capital is the whole country—the whole country is its capital; you can cycle around it in a day.”

Laughter erupted again, followed by prolonged, thunderous applause.

Watching Zhou Andong on stage—confident, elegant, radiant—Zhang Sihé, seated in the back, felt not a trace of envy.

Previously, he’d thought Zhou Andong was only slightly stronger than him; with effort, he’d surely surpass him.

But now, he no longer believed that—he clearly recognized the gap between himself and Zhou Andong.

It wasn’t a small ditch he could leap over with effort; it was an insurmountable chasm.

This chasm filled him with awe—not just for Zhou Andong’s achievements, but for his knowledge and overwhelming personal charisma.

“So!” Zhou Andong raised his hand and drew a circle in the air, shouting loudly: “Look at us—9.6 million square kilometers of land. I am proud to be Chinese.”

“Excellent!”

This time, it wasn’t Qin Zhi—it was a young man who stood up and began clapping.

Then, applause once again filled the hall.