Chapter 273: One Kick Topples the Table—I'm Taking Over This Casino!

Peninsula Hotel, presidential suite on the top floor.

The once all‑powerful Yingzi tycoon Wilson, who used to command the winds and rains on Hong Kong Island, now curled like a tiger stripped of its fangs and claws, sagging on the spacious sofa. In just a few days he seemed twenty years older; his meticulously kept blond hair turned gray and greasy, his eye sockets sank, and the once‑azure eyes were veined with blood, interwoven with resentment, unwillingness, and deep fear.

When Lu Qingshan entered the suite accompanied by the expressionless Ye Ning and the visibly nervous Lu Qingjun, he didn't even rise; he fixed a nearly venomous stare on the newcomers.

"Mr. Lu, what a grand display, what a spectacular show." Wilson's voice was hoarse like rusted metal grinding, thick with unyielding sarcasm, "Is it not enough that you beat me in the stock market like a dead dog, and now you have to come here in person to admire the misery of a loser?"

Lu Qingshan completely ignored the pitiful provocation, calmly sat down on the opposite sofa with a grace as if he were in his own living room. He gently pushed a document onto the center of the coffee table.

"Mr. Wilson, I'm not here to mock you; I'm here to solve your problem."

Wilson's gaze reluctantly left Lu Qingshan's overly youthful face and fell on the document. The words "Asset Overall Acquisition Intent Letter" on the cover pricked his eyes. He trembled as he opened it, and when he saw the bolded figure at the bottom, the corner of his eye spasmed violently.

HK$3.2 billion.

This price is a full twenty percent below the public market valuation of all his assets; this is no longer opportunistic plunder, it's rubbing salt into a bleeding wound!

"You!" Wilson snapped his head up, blood surging, his whole body trembling with extreme rage, "You are humiliating me! This is a forced robbery!"

"No, I'm helping you, and giving you a final dignity." Lu Qingshan's tone was frighteningly calm, as if stating a fact, "Your assets, if sold piece by piece in calm market conditions, could indeed fetch forty billion, perhaps more. But how long would that take? Three months? Six months? Even longer? I heard the Shason Family board gave you only two weeks. Over in London, can you afford to wait?"

The final sentence struck Wilson's heart like an invisible hammer, precise and crushing, turning his face instantly ashen.

Lu Qingshan leaned slightly forward, his gaze sharp as a blade, piercing through the last of Wilson's façade: "Those so‑called Quality Assets are, in the eyes of Hong Kong Island's business world, gold tainted with plague—whoever touches them dies. Anyone who dares to take them publicly becomes my enemy, becomes an enemy of the entire Chinese Chamber of Commerce. Apart from reckless speculators, or…" Lu Qingshan paused, a wry, meaningful smirk forming, "the hungry wolves hiding in the shadows, only looking to snatch the fattest piece of meat amid the chaos."

"I'll give you HK$3.2 billion in cash, all settled in a single payment within a week. You can clear all debts, buy a first‑class Air Ticket, and return to London with dignity to lament to your uncle. Or you can stay here and watch your assets be torn piece by piece by those hungry wolves, liquidated by the banks, and eventually be driven out of Hong Kong Island with not even a pair of underpants left."

Lu Qingshan rose slowly, looking down from his height at the man who had completely lost his fighting spirit, his voice cold and indisputable.

"The choice is yours. My patience is limited—only ten minutes."

Having said that, he truly said no more, merely gazing silently at the expensive Patek Philippe mantel clock on the wall. Ye Ning and Lu Qingjun stood behind him like two statues, wordlessly, the intangible pressure filling the entire room.

Time passed, second by second.

In the suite, a death‑like silence.

Wilson's complexion shifted from red to white, then to blue, finally turning a pallid ash. Veins bulged on his forehead, his heavy breathing sounded like a dying beast pulling an old bellows. He stared fixedly at Lu Qingshan, his gaze yearning to devour him alive, yet Rationality screamed madly that every word the other said was a blood‑soaked reality. He recalled the stern telegram from the London headquarters, his uncle Old William's utterly disappointed stare, and the smug face of rival Sir Smith.

He had no choice. He had long since lost any choice.

Lu Qingjun stood nearby, palms slick with sweat, heart pounding. He had never witnessed such a stifling scene; this was no business negotiation, it was a mental torment! It was slicing a person's dignity and hope blade by blade, then throwing them on the ground to be trampled mercilessly!

"Tick‑tock, tick‑tock…"

The priceless mantel clock on the wall, each tick of its hand seemed to hammer at Wilson's remaining psychological barrier.

When the hand was about to reach the ten‑minute mark, Wilson seemed drained of every bone and ounce of strength, collapsing backward into the soft sofa. He shut his eyes in despair, his voice hoarse like sandpaper grinding dry bone.

"I… sign."

…

The news broke, and the entire Hong Kong Island public sphere fell silent.

Xinghan Capital poured HK$3.2 billion into a lightning‑fast total acquisition of all Wilson's assets in Hong Kong!

The news detonated like a nuclear bomb on a calm lake, blowing the recently settled public arena into chaos, massive waves surging. Everyone was stunned by Lu Qingshan's earth‑shattering, unreasonably domineering move.

If the earlier stock‑market victories were spears of unparalleled sharpness, this total acquisition is a Mount Tai so massive it cannot be moved! It is an absolute, unresistable takeover from virtual capital to tangible industry!

In the Chinese Chamber of Commerce's exclusive tea house, Li Fuying clutched a newspaper, his hands trembling, his face flushed with excitement, slamming the valuable Yixing teapot so hard it rang: "Madman! This kid is a complete lunatic! I fucking love it!"

Guo Dongying slapped the rosewood table so hard the teacups jumped, pointing at the headline on the newspaper, he roared with laughter: "I told you, this kid matches my temper! All that fucking fighting and killing—that's a change of dynasties! Got it? That's the real thing: using money to replace a dynasty!"

Meanwhile, in Central, the top floor office of the Faction.

Li Jiasheng stood expressionless before the massive floor‑to‑ceiling windows, like a stone statue, overlooking the bustling Victoria Harbour below. Behind him, a trusted subordinate whispered a report, his voice laced with barely concealed Fear and frustration.

"Boss, our people just received definitive news: Xinghan Capital has completed the Settlement of all assets. Wilson… the Aircraft scheduled for 3 p. m. this afternoon has already rolled back to London."

Li Jiasheng said nothing, merely watching the view, his gaze as deep as the sea.

The subordinate hesitated, swallowed, then forced himself to continue: "Also… just half an hour ago, Xinghan Capital announced through major media that next Monday, at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, it will hold a 'Xinghan Preferred Asset Auction', the auction list… being all assets under Wilson's name. The invitation… has already been delivered to our company's reception desk."

Li Jiasheng turned slowly, his face still bearing that trademark, spring‑like warm smile, yet the smile held not a hint of warmth, cold enough to make one's heart race.

He picked up the exquisitely crafted gold‑embossed invitation on the table, its flowing cursive clearly bearing his name.

He suddenly smiled, a light laugh, yet it seemed to drop the entire office's temperature to the freezing point.

"Interesting, truly interesting."

He gently traced his own name on the invitation with his finger, as if admiring a rare artwork, and said slowly, "He's telling me the game is over. Now, he is the Banker."

"Go, prepare a lavish gift for me, the thickest one."

"Then reply to Mr. Lu, tell him that for this auction, I, Li Jiasheng, will definitely be there on time."