Chapter 250: The 3.3‑Billion Settlement: Wilson Sells His Assets to Fill the Void!

When Yuehan Xun shakily and heavily entered Wilson's office, each step felt as heavy as stepping on a coffin board. His complexion was as pale as paper, cold sweat streaming from his forehead, the folder in his hand trembling, containing the detailed data of Taigu Group's disastrous defeat this time. The whole office was deathly silent, only the hum of the air‑conditioner, which now sounded like a dirge for the Taigu Group on Hong Kong Island.

Wilson collapsed onto the Italian genuine‑leather sofa worth one hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars, his whole being feeling as if his soul had been sucked out. The eyes that had once been sharp enough to see through any financial conspiracy were now hollow and lifeless, staring fixedly at the ceiling. His suit was rumpled, his tie askew, his hair disheveled, completely lacking the usual British gentleman's bearing. The face that had once been supremely arrogant now bore utter desperation, the wrinkles at the corners deepened, as if he had aged ten years overnight.

The decorations in the office that symbolized power and wealth—priceless antique vases, medals personally awarded by the Queen, photos with various world leaders—now all seemed so ironic. Those honors that Wilson had once taken pride in were utterly vulnerable before Lu Qingshan.

"Mr. Wilson." Yuehan Xun's voice was as faint as a mosquito's whine, barely audible, "The final settlement figures are ready." His voice trembled, his palms slick with sweat, the report shivering in his hands.

Wilson slowly turned his head to look at Yuehan Xun. That gaze filled Yuehan Xun with Fear—a look of desperation laced with hatred, like a beast ready to devour a man. His lips quivered slightly, as if he were trying to restrain the anger and hopelessness inside. The pain of falling from the clouds to hell made every nerve in his body twitch.

"Speak." Wilson's voice was hoarsely terrifying, each word sounding as if forced out from deep in his throat, tinged with blood, "I want to hear how much that Chinese kid cost me. Let me see how the Shason Family's century‑old foundation was ruined by my hands!"

Yuehan Xun swallowed, his throat dry as if scraped with sandpaper, trembling as he opened the folder. The report was packed with numbers, each one seeming to accuse their failure, each number like a knife thrust deep into Wilson's heart: "We invested a total of 83 billion Hong Kong dollars this time, ending with a loss of 33 billion, and recovered 50 billion of principal. But Mr. Wilson, the ledger shows exactly that; in reality… our reputational loss is incalculable."

His voice grew softer and softer, until it was almost inaudible. 33 billion Hong Kong dollars—a figure astronomical to anyone, enough to make a Financial Empire collapse in an instant.

Wilson froze at the figure, as if struck by lightning. His complexion turned deathly white, then flushed scarlet, veins bulging, his fists clenched until the knuckles whitened. The 33 billion Hong Kong‑dollar loss was a razor blade, driving deep into his heart and violently churning.

"33 billion… 33 billion…" Wilson muttered, his voice laced with incredulous despair, each syllable sounding like dripping blood, "I, Wilson Shason, have ruled Hong Kong Island's financial storms for thirty years, and I've been beaten by a Chinese kid! Beaten by a twenty‑something yellow‑skinned monkey!"

He suddenly rose, pacing wildly around the office, each step heavy as if treading on his own dignity. The Italian leather shoes that had once moved gracefully now thudded on the carpet like funeral bells. His eyes burned with flames of anger and humiliation, the feeling of being utterly crushed nearly suffocating him.

But immediately afterward, his body collapsed helplessly, as if all his bones had been pulled out. He knew anger was meaningless, the money was lost, Lu Qingshan had won, that was the harsh reality. The sensation of falling from the clouds to hell nearly choked him.

"Mr. Wilson, there's an even worse piece of news." Yuehan Xun clenched his teeth and continued, his voice trembling even more, beads of sweat the size of beans rolling from his forehead, "Market rumors say Lu Qingshan's total profit this time exceeded 50 billion Hong Kong dollars, and the total profit of all members of the Chinese Chamber of Commerce may have reached 80 billion. We have not only lost money but also reputation. Now the entire Hong Kong Island financial community is saying the Yingzi Group was trounced by a Chinese kid, and the Shason Family's golden sign has been smashed completely!"

His voice grew more urgent: "All major banks and insurance companies are re‑evaluating their cooperation with us. HSBC sent people this morning to inquire about our liquidity, and Standard Chartered is considering pulling back loans early. Worse still, those Chinese entrepreneurs are now celebrating, saying this is the Chinese community's first major victory in Hong Kong Island's financial market!"

Those words were the final straw, crushing Wilson completely. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, the look of hopelessness making Yuehan Xun unable to watch any longer. He had never imagined he would be defeated so utterly, so without dignity. The Shason Family's nearly century‑long prestige in Hong Kong Island's financial circles had now turned to vapor.

"Do you know, Yuehan Xun?" Wilson suddenly said, his voice carrying a strange calm—calm that was more terrifying than anger, "My grandfather came to Hong Kong Island with the British East India Company, built the Shason Family's financial empire from scratch. My father defended the business during World II, making the Shason name thunder through Hong Kong Island's financial world. The Shason Family has operated on Hong Kong Island for nearly a hundred years, witnessing the city's transformation from a fishing village to an international financial hub."

His voice sank lower, each word dripping with blood: "And I… I was beaten by a Chinese kid in his twenties. Beaten by a pauper who only had a few hundred thousand in assets a few months ago! This is an enormous joke!"

He rose and walked to the massive portrait of the Queen, reaching out to touch the golden frame. The regal eyes seemed to mock his failure, as if saying: you have disgraced the British Empire!

"Your Majesty, I have failed you, I have tarnished the glory of the British Empire." Wilson whispered to the portrait, his voice full of despair and self‑mockery, "The Shason Family's honor has been utterly destroyed by me."

He turned, looking at Yuehan Xun, a flash of resolve in his eyes: "Take a look at my personal and family asset list on Hong Kong Island." Wilson's voice was eerily calm, a calm that only heightened Yuehan Xun's fear, "Immediately contact real‑estate agents, list everything for sale, to fill this void."

"The Peak villa, the Central office tower, the Repulse Bay holiday home, the Kowloon port, and those antique calligraphy and paintings—my priceless art collection—sell everything." Wilson's voice grew lower; each asset named made his heart ache a little, as if cutting his own flesh, "Keeping them is useless; we can't let Taigu Group collapse. Recycle the capital, and immediately plug the void in HSBC's financial and insurance operations."

He walked to his desk, picked up the Montblanc fountain pen worth 50 000 Hong Kong dollars—the pen that had signed countless major contracts, now to be used to sign his own bankruptcy list: "Also my yacht, my private aircraft, my wife's jewelry, sell them all! Nothing left behind!"

Yuehan Xun watched Wilson's trembling hand, a swirl of emotions in his heart. The financial Giant Shark who once ruled Hong Kong Island's markets now had to sell every asset to fill the void. The contrast shocked and terrified him deeply.

"Mr. Wilson, your Peak villa is worth 80 million, the Central office tower 120 million, and with the other assets the total should reach about 4 billion Hong Kong dollars." Yuehan Xun said cautiously, "Enough to fill this void."

"4 billion…" Wilson forced a bitter smile, the grin uglier than crying, "The wealth I built over thirty years is now given entirely to a Chinese kid. Yuehan Xun, isn't that ironic?"

He moved to the floor‑to‑ceiling window, gazing at the bustling Central. The skyscrapers glittered in the night, yet to his eyes the lights seemed dim and dull: "From today onward, Hong Kong Island's financial landscape will change. The Chinese are no longer the bullied weak, they can also reign supreme in the market. And the era of the Yingzi Group may truly be ending."

Yuehan Xun nodded, daring not to say more. He knew Wilson now needed quiet, time to digest this crushing defeat. He also knew the blow was fatal; the financial Giant Shark who once commanded Hong Kong Island's markets was now utterly shattered.

"Do you know what hurts me most?" Wilson suddenly turned, a complex glint in his eyes, "It's not the loss of money, but the loss of dignity. We British have ruled Hong Kong Island for so many years, and now a Chinese kid tramples us beneath his feet. That humiliation is worse than death!"

His voice grew even more hoarse: "But Yuehan Xun, remember, this isn't over. I, Wilson Shason, will never concede. I will rise again, I will find a chance for revenge! I will make that Chinese kid know the fate of crossing the Shason Family!"

Night deepened, Victoria Harbour's lights still glittered, yet the top‑floor office of Taigu Group was suffused with the loser's despair and resentment. This night was destined to become the darkest night of Wilson Shason's life, and the most symbolic night in Hong Kong Island's financial history.

The myth of the Yingzi Group has collapsed; the era of the Chinese has arrived!