Chapter 343: Sword Points to London, the Surgeon Arrives!

The top floor of Xinghan Building, the CEO's office.

Sunlight streams through the massive floor‑to‑ceiling windows, casting the glittering reflections of Victoria Harbor onto the mirror‑smooth floor, dazzling enough to make one squint.

Wang Yuyun stands before the huge rosewood desk, a delicate notebook in hand, the pen tip hovering over the paper, awaiting the final order.

Her boss, Lu Qingshan, stands with his back to her at the window, overlooking the city he has shaken to its core beneath his feet.

"Lu Qingjun, Ahu and their party of six will take first class straight to London," Lu Qingshan says calmly, betraying no hint of the upcoming expedition. "Contact the best tailor on Savile Street for an urgent custom suit. Remember, we're going to London Financial City to claim new ground, not to beg. Our bearing must outshine those old‑line aristocrats!"

"Understood," Wang Yuyun notes swiftly, adding, "Miss Ye Ning has already arranged the convoy and security team in London; they're the top‑tier local service."

"Excellent," Lu Qingshan turns, his black pupils reflecting the blinding light outside. "Li Jianqiang and Qian Jin from the northeast should be arriving soon. You will receive them personally, top‑level treatment. Let them walk around Hong Kong Island, see more, and witness what the power of capital looks like. This will be enormously beneficial for their future command of our own industrial empire."

In a single sentence, he linked the industrial base thousands of miles away with the financial battlefield before them, binding them together with an invisible thread.

Wang Yuyun feels a chill and nods gravely: "Boss, rest assured, I will make them feel what true shock is!"

Lu Qingshan hums, picks up the internal phone on the desk, and dials Liang Zhiwei's number.

The call is answered almost instantly, and a hoarse yet wildly excited voice comes from the other end: "Boss!"

"Zhiwei, it's me," Lu Qingshan says with a hint of a smile. "The Hong Kong Island side is now entirely in your hands. Keep expanding branches, keep attracting deposits; the rundown alleys that Yingzi banks ignore, we will hang Xinghan's sign over. I want you to turn Xinghan Bank into a rice‑jar and purse that six million Hong Kong Island residents cannot live without. Ah, and take care of your health!"

He pauses briefly, then shifts his tone.

"I'm heading to London; wait for my good news."

A second of silence follows, then Liang Zhiwei's hoarse voice roars as if he's using every ounce of his strength, filled with a rabid, fierce loyalty!

"Boss, rest assured! You just charge ahead! I, Liang Zhiwei, will stake my life and guarantee the supply depot overflows! Whoever dares to touch your rear, I'll bite them first!"

He hangs up and dials Li Fuying's number again.

"Old Li, it's me, Qing Shan."

"Chairman Lu!" Li Fuying's voice is filled with sincere respect, "Is everything ready?"

"We depart tomorrow."

"Good!" Li Fuying exhales, "We old timers won't go to the airport to cause trouble, lest we stir up a commotion that makes those foreigners nervous. On behalf of the Business Association, I'll set up a celebratory banquet on Hong Kong Island, waiting for your triumphant return!"

The elder's voice grows solemn: "When you go to London, be extremely careful. It's the old stronghold of Yingzi, a century‑old operation, like a den of tigers and wolves."

Lu Qingshan watches the massive thousand‑ton ship slowly pulling out of Victoria Harbor, a cold curve forming at the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you for your concern, Old Li."

"They've been operating for a hundred years; it's time to shift positions."

……

The next day, Kai Tak Airport.

Unlike the melancholy farewell when leaving Capital City last time, today's send‑off is filled with grim resolve.

No tears from wife or daughter, no tender embraces.

Only Lu Qingjun, Ahu, and three other ex‑Special Forces bodyguards with hawk‑like eyes—six in total—dressed in matching black trench coats, each carrying identical black suitcases, like an elite surgical squad poised to infiltrate enemy lines, silently trailing behind Lu Qingshan.

Lu Qingjun watches his elder brother's towering silhouette ahead, his heart pounding uncontrollably. He lowers his voice, barely containing excitement and nerves: "Brother, are we really going with just a few of us? That's London—we feel like we're about to storm a dragon's pool and a tiger's den."

Lu Qingshan doesn't look back, simply says coolly: "In war, sheer numbers aren't always useful. We're going to be the surgeons, not cannon fodder."

The party passes through the Special VIP Passage and boards the Boeing 747 bound for London.

The aircraft's engines roar loudly as the fuselage begins to taxi down the runway.

Through the window, Lu Qingshan sees the Central district's building, now renamed "Xinghan Building," standing like a sharp sword thrust into the clouds. He spots the ceaseless cargo ships threading Victoria Harbor, the Kowloon docks and warehouses that belong to him, and the realm he has wrested with his own hands.

Night falls, the window view turns pitch black save for specks of starlight. The cold glass reflects his slightly weary face. Gazing at his own deep eyes in the reflection, images involuntarily surface: Lin Yue'e's reddened eyes, holding back tears at the Capital City airport farewell; his daughter Xiao Xue's innocent, bright smile while clutching a gold‑fish kite; and the soft, syrupy "Dad, come back early" he heard as he left.

He goes there to carve out, in the world's most perilous capital slaughterhouse, a future that no one will ever dare covet—for them, for this family, for this nation.

The plane jerks upward, soaring into the clouds. The massive thrust pins Lu Qingshan firmly into his seat; the chill of Capital City and the warmth of Hong Kong Island are left far behind.

A dozen‑plus hours of long flight.

When the aircraft pierces the thick cloud layer and begins a gradual descent, a scene unlike Capital City or Hong Kong Island unfolds outside the window.

The Thames River winds like a gray ribbon through an ancient, weighty city. Gothic spires, an elegant parliament building, and dense rows of red‑brick structures together compose a gloomy yet powerful tableau.

This is London, the heart of the empire on which the sun never sets, the former architect of global financial rules. The air seems to exude centuries‑old arrogance and cold ambition belonging to Old Money.

Lu Qingjun holds a document, his scalp tingling and his complexion turning pale. He leans toward Lu Qingshan, voice trembling: "Brother, the data says London Financial City, nicknamed 'The City', spans only one square mile, yet its daily capital flow exceeds the annual GDP of some countries! Over 40% of the world's foreign‑exchange trades and 70% of international bond transactions are completed here… This is literally a financial monster built of money! Our thirty‑plus billion would barely make a splash."

He swallows, then asks the pivotal question: "When we get to London, what's the first move? Do we start with low‑key reconnaissance, or… go straight to smashing Yi He's venue?"

Lu Qingshan continues to stare at the land drawing nearer outside, his gaze as deep as an ancient well.

He doesn't turn, merely uttering a few calm words.

"No, our first step is to visit our 'Investor'."

"Investor?" Lu Qingjun is startled, instinctively lowering his voice, "Henry Kessler? Are we really going to see that fool who sends us money?"

Lu Qingshan finally turns, a smile appearing on his face that Lu Qingjun can't quite read—tinged with mockery, a chill, and a compassion that looks down on all beings.

"Fool? No, he's very smart, just limited in scope," Lu Qingshan says lightly. "Besides, his fifty‑million pounds only buys a spectator's ticket; he's not an investor."

Lu Qingjun is completely bewildered: "Then who are we meeting?"

Lu Qingshan looks at his brother's puzzled face, then slowly utters a name that would shake the heavens; his voice is low, yet it seems to drop the cabin's temperature by several degrees, freezing the air.

"Our real first stop is to visit the Rothschild family."