Chapter 345: This Isn

The convoy, like a black iron dragon, silently entered London Financial City. Outside the window, the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral appeared increasingly solemn under the overcast clouds; the streets were filled with countless suit‑clad, expressionless financial elites, their steps as fast as clockwork wound tight, each face bearing the cold indifference forged repeatedly by time and money.

The air was saturated with a scent unique to this place—damp stone‑paved streets, faint whiffs of coal smoke, and the icy, arrogant sense of order exhaled by money after centuries of sediment.

The convoy finally came to a slow halt before a remarkably grand classical building.

"Boss, we've arrived." Ye Ning's voice came from the front row, tinged with an uncontainable excitement.

Lu Qingshan opened his eyes and looked outward through the thick bullet‑proof windows. At the building's entrance, the polished brass nameplate bore an address—Weilian Wang Dajie 81 Hao.

Lu Qingjun instinctively glanced left and right; with just a glance, all the blood in his body seemed to be drained in an instant, then poured back in like scorching magma! He felt as if he were nailed to his seat, clinging to the window, his breath halted for half a beat, his eyes bulging as if they might burst from their sockets.

Left! Just across a street called "Needle‑Thread Street" stands the headquarters of the Bank of England, known worldwide as the "Needle‑Thread Street Old Lady"—a financial fortress! That ancient, imposing edifice is the heart of the entire pound system!

Right! It is the equally splendid eighteenth‑century building, the London Mayor's Residence! It symbolizes the city's secular power!

And their "Victoria Opportunity Fund" office, this seven‑story building that Ye Ning bought outright, sits like a wedge, brutally and overwhelmingly nailed right between these two symbols of power!

Lu Qingjun's brain let out a "Boom—" and completely crashed. The abacus that had been calculating accounts for decades was shattered in that moment! He recalled Hong Kong Island's Star‑River Tower, recalled the Capital City's courtyard houses; those achievements were already impressive, but compared with the scene before him, they were merely child's play!

What the hell, this isn't renting an office? This is literally driving an Eastern warblade into the heart of the empire that has pulsed for centuries under the sun! This is no longer something money can achieve; this is using money to announce to the world that they have arrived, and intend to be the dealer‑in‑chief at this table!

Lu Qingshan pushed open the car door; the sharp, cold wind unique to Financial City slapped his face, invigorating him. He stepped out, looked up at the building Ye Ning had purchased—a perfect blend of classical and modern styles—its limestone façade, weathered by time, exuding a heavy texture, and finally a hint of satisfaction appeared on his face.

He didn't go straight inside; instead he turned, faced the cold wind, and calmly gazed at the Bank of England's fortress‑like structure. His eyes seemed to pierce the massive stone walls, seeing inside the high‑speed financial machinery that supports the entire Western world, seeing the pale faces that draft rules, overlook all beings, and are written with arrogance to the core.

He thought of Lin Yue'e's slightly reddened eyes when she saw him off in the Capital City, and of his daughter Xiao Xue's soft, syrupy "Dad, come back early." He came not merely to make money, but to use the rules set by these arrogant ones to crush them completely, for his family, for the nation, to lay down a stable, century‑long future no one dares covet!

A scorching surge of heroism rose from his chest, dispelling all of London's chill.

A cold, forest‑like arc of absolute confidence curled at the corner of his mouth, and in a voice only he could hear, he declared word by word:

"From today onward, the rules here need to be changed."

Entering the building, a luxurious yet icy modern atmosphere hit them. Ye Ning walked ahead, her high heels striking the mirror‑smooth black marble floor, producing crisp echoes; her voice carried a trace of uncontainable excitement and pride as she began to introduce this war fortress to Lu Qingshan.

"Boss, the first floor houses the reception area and part of the Trading Hall. The second and third floors are the core trading zone of the Victoria Opportunity Fund; we have recruited 120 top traders and analysts from Wall Street and Financial City, operating three shifts around the clock, covering all major global markets without time‑zone lag!"

Ye Ning pushed open a heavy glass door, and a scene straight out of a sci‑fi movie exploded before Lu Qingjun's eyes!

In the massive space of thousands of square meters, dense walls of trading screens flickered with red‑green streams of data, while phone rings, keyboard clacks, and traders' low roars blended into a symphony of money and war! Everyone moved like a high‑speed precision machine, the air thick with tension, focus, and the scent of adrenaline.

Lu Qingjun was stunned on the spot; he felt he hadn't entered a company but had stormed into a nation's war command center!

"Floors four through six are our logistics support area, including archives, server center, security hub, and part of the core staff's rest zone, ensuring we can operate independently for over a month even under extreme conditions."

Lu Qingshan's expression remained calm, merely nodding slightly as if everything were as expected. He didn't linger on the first floor; he led the group into the elevator, but instead of pressing the up button, he pressed the button for the basement.

"Boss, the crucial part is below." Ye Ning's eyes glittered with fervent light.

The elevator descended silently; when the doors opened again, a cold blast of mixed metal and concrete hit them. Lu Qingjun glanced once and felt his heart seized by an invisible giant hand, his breath instantly halted!

Before them stood a massive circular vault door half a meter thick, forged from a special alloy and riddled with intricate mechanical lock cores! Its icy metallic feel and unparalleled heft exerted a pressure more terrifying than facing an army!

"Damn…" a dry croak escaped Lu Qingjun's throat; he had never in his life seen anything like this, something only found in movies.

Ye Ning stepped forward, passed iris, fingerprint, and password verification; the door, weighing dozens of tons, opened inward with a grinding, teeth‑gnashing mechanical sound.

"Boss, this is the underground vault we built to Swiss Bank's highest standards, three levels deep, capable of storing over ten billion dollars' worth of physical gold and classified documents."

When the vault's interior lights flickered on, Lu Qingjun went completely berserk! He stood as if struck by lightning, frozen in place, his eyes bulging like copper bells, staring dead‑stare at the scene inside, his mouth open enough to fit a goose egg, his mind a blank!

What the hell is this, a vault? It's a bottomless canyon! They stood at the entrance of the first level, looking down into a deep, massive space poured with reinforced concrete, layer after layer, like the abyss that once held the Titan giants! The cold, violent beauty forged from pure wealth and security power made his scalp tingle and his whole body shiver!

Lu Qingshan was satisfied; this was exactly the effect he wanted, the confidence to launch a world‑class financial war! He patted his stone‑hardened brother's shoulder, turned, and walked into another elevator: "Let's go, to the seventh floor."

Only after the elevator doors closed did Lu Qingjun regain his voice; he stammered, babbling, "Bro… this… this… are we here to trade stocks or to start World War III?!"

The elevator rose straight to the seventh floor, the exclusive space for Lu Qingshan and a handful of core managers. He ignored his brother's slip, walked straight to the massive floor‑to‑ceiling window and shed his overcoat.

Outside the window, on one side stood the Bank of England, symbolizing pound supremacy, on the other the Mayor's Residence, representing secular authority; and he stood between them, overlooking the heart of this Financial Empire.

He did not rest immediately; instead he took from his pocket the slightly creased photo taken with Lin Yue'e and Lu Xiao Xue in front of Tiananmen, gently caressing the smiling faces of his wife and daughter.

He came to London not merely to slay dragons, but to ensure no evil dragon would ever again trouble his home.

He tucked the photo away; the last trace of warmth in his eyes was replaced by cold War Intent.

This sleep is to replenish his spirit.

Because he knows that when he awakens, all of London will tremble because of him.