Chapter 347: Everyone Crumbles, Yet He Laughs!

Just as the office atmosphere had become unbearably oppressive, the very air seemed to freeze into ice, so heavy that it was hard to breathe, the door was gently knocked.

Li Zhi'an pushed the door and walked in.

He seemed to have just been pulled out of the Thames River in December, then trekked three days and three nights through London's cold rain. The tailored, fitted expensive suit was now wrinkled beyond repair, his tie askew, hair soaked with cold sweat clinging messily to his forehead. He entered the office, keeping his head down the whole time; the eyes that once shone brilliantly were now dim, filled with spider‑web‑like blood vessels, and he dared not meet Lu Qingshan's gaze.

"Boss…" he said as he walked to the desk, his voice hoarse as if rubbed with sandpaper, each word carrying the deep fatigue of fruitless toil and an unmistakable, bone‑deep sense of failure, "I went to Wodesi Deng Manor, but… I… I couldn't meet Lord Jacob Rothschild."

Lu Qingjun's heart seemed seized by an invisible, icy hand, instantly plunging into a bottomless abyss.

It's over.

The most crucial, and most fanciful, part of his brother's whole plan was cut off at the root! If they won't even meet you, aren't all your subsequent schemes just fanciful castles in the air?

Li Zhi'an clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms; he forced down the overwhelming shame and continued his report word by word: "His butler—a gray‑haired old man with eyes as sharp as an eagle—stopped me at the manor's cold iron gate. He wore spotless white gloves and, with an eye that inspected cargo, examined me from head to toe for a full minute, then, at his leisure, spoke, delivering the message that… the lord has been very busy lately and has no time to receive the Eastern 'Young Friend'."

He bit the four words 'Young Friend' heavily, full of naked, unvarnished contempt.

Li Zhi'an inhaled deeply, as if expending all his strength, and repeated the line that felt like his soul had been pierced: "He also said… London's afternoon tea isn't something just anyone is qualified to drink. Some invitations require centuries to earn, not just a business card."

"After saying that, he slowly closed the door right in front of me."

The heavy, carved iron door shut not with a 'clang' but with an extremely muffled 'hum—', like an ancient bell being struck; the reverberation buzzed in Li Zhi'an's eardrums, sealing all his dignity and hope outside the door.

That seemingly light remark struck like an invisible ten‑thousand‑jin hammer, smashing into everyone's heart in the room!

A mixture of humiliation, anger and overwhelming helplessness instantly enveloped the whole room, pressing everyone to the point of suffocation. Lu Qingjun's face flushed to a pork‑liver hue; he felt a surge of hot blood rush to his scalp, his whole body trembling, his fists clenching with a crackle. Even the usually cold and composed Ye Ning furrowed their brows tightly; for the first time a crack appeared on their otherwise placid face, the fingers holding the tablet whitened from overexertion, and the data streams on the screen seemed to mock them.

This is the cold reality.

Before these centuries‑old families that have woven the world order with money and power, your so‑called 'wealthiest Chinese' and 'Hong Kong Island nouveau riche' are nothing more than a newly rich upstart who just learned how to wear a suit, with a few steel ingots in his pocket, not even qualified to step onto their carpet!

Yet, amid this death‑like silence, a low, slightly playful chuckle, like a blade cutting across ice, suddenly rang out.

It was Lu Qingshan.

He snuffed out the cigarette between his fingers, leaned slowly back into the spacious leather executive chair, and his face, far from showing any humiliated anger or defeat, instead bore a mildly amused, even slightly delighted smile.

"Good."

He said only one word.

That single word struck like a bolt of heaven, searing everyone present inside and out!

Everyone froze as if under a petrification spell, staring at him in disbelief.

"Good? What the hell's good about this?! We're being pointed at, humiliated, can't even get through the door—this is 'good'?!" Lu Qingjun opened his mouth, feeling his mind utterly shut down.

Lu Qingshan watched the bewildered, world‑shattering expressions on everyone's faces, his smile widening; the grin carried a hint of all‑knowing composure and a cat‑playing‑mouse kind of teasing. He spoke slowly, his voice low, yet it instantly dispelled all the gloom in the room.

"Not seeing me is just right."

"What?" Lu Qingjun asked instinctively, his voice cracking.

"If he were to courteously invite us in for tea today, that would show we have an issue," Lu Qingshan said, extending a finger and giving it a light shake. "In his view, we are merely another client with a bit of money trying to latch onto the elite, no different from the bankers and politicians lining up to see him. He's seen too many of those; one more of us makes no difference, one fewer makes no difference either."

He rose slowly, paced to the massive floor‑to‑ceiling window, hands in his pockets, gazing at the dazzling nightscape outside, illuminated by the lights of countless financial institutions. His silhouette, backlit by the city's glow, appeared inscrutable, as if merged with the very power center of London, yet also as if he could crush it all beneath his feet at any moment.

"He didn't see us, yet deliberately used this ultimate arrogance to humiliate us, which precisely shows that our very existence has drawn the lord's attention. He wants to tell us whose territory this is, whose rules dictate it."

Lu Qingshan turned, his deep eyes reflecting London's myriad lights, yet colder and sharper than the winter night outside. His gaze swept over Ye Ning; they felt a shiver run through them, the complex financial models in their mind collapsing instantly, replaced by a more primitive, more savage, and even more chilling new logic!

"Since he doesn't want to invite us to the table for tea, that proves he already regards us as opponents qualified to overturn his table."

The curve of his mouth grew wild and fierce, an invisible aura of dominance burst forth, making the room's temperature seem to drop several degrees!

"Then… let them bring the tea and come to me personally to beg."