Chapter 354: Prelude to War! The Whole Market

In the Trading Hall, time seemed to freeze.

That line, "The whole market's goods are in our hands," was like a deep‑water bomb, its invisible shockwave instantly shredded the Rationality and calmness of the 120 Wall Street and London Financial City elites!

Silence, a death‑like silence, lasted only 0.1 seconds.

A trader's pen fell to the floor with a "Clack!" and became the sole sound that set off the whole place.

The next second, a roar erupted like a volcanic eruption!

"God!"

"He did it! He fucking really did it! He predicted a war!"

"We won! We fucking became God's operators!"

A blond trader hurled all the documents in his hands high into the air; countless data‑filled sheets fluttered like snowflakes across the sky. He leapt onto the table, pounding his chest like a World Cup‑winning footballer, letting out a beastly roar!

A silver‑haired veteran who had been steeped in the Financial City for thirty years trembled as he reached for the cigar on the table, missing the mark several times before giving up, leaning against the chair back. In his clouded old eyes two hot tears fell as he let out a manic laugh that was half crying, half giggling. More people clung tightly together, so excited they babbled incoherently, pounding each other's backs with their fists and letting out incomprehensible ecstatic roars.

They felt they were not partaking in a financial transaction, but forging with their own hands a legend worthy of the annals, a myth that future finance apprentices would bow to!

David Cohen's gold‑threaded glasses slipped to the tip of his nose, yet he didn't notice. He opened his mouth to breathe, only to find his lungs compressed by a massive emotion called "Shock". Instinctively he braced his hands on the cold metal tabletop, steadying the legs that were about to collapse.

In his mind, a single thought rang wildly: this isn't a trade, this isn't speculation, this is prophecy! He didn't forecast the market; he forecasted the future!

He stared blankly at the man standing at the front of the crowd, who had calmly hung up the phone from start to finish.

That silhouette, amid the fluttering papers and everyone's revelry, seemed so out of place, yet so… inevitable.

The earth‑shaking news that could shake the entire European finance world seemed to him merely a trivial line that happened on schedule in the script.

David's Adam's apple rolled violently; he felt his blood burning from head to toe. In that moment, he seemed to see Moses parting the Red Sea, and Noah finishing the Ark before the flood.

Madman? Fool?

No.

It is a deity.

An Eastern deity walking among mortals, wielding storm and thunder!

Lu Qingshan didn't turn around immediately; he quietly listened to the frenzy behind him that he had ignited himself, a subtle curve forming at the corner of his mouth unnoticed by anyone. This was what he wanted—a pack of wolves completely conquered, ready to walk through fire for him.

Then, he slowly turned, facing the group of now‑rabid "soldiers"; he said nothing, merely raised his hand and pressed down gently.

A simple gesture, yet it seemed to carry an invisible, word‑to‑reality magic.

The noisy Trading Hall fell silent again in an instant; over 120 fervent, worshipful, awe‑struck gazes converged on him like believers awaiting a divine oracle.

"Gentlemen," Lu Qingshan surveyed the room, a playful smile at the corner of his mouth, "we can prep the celebratory champagne early, but now is not the time to celebrate. For a true feast, this is merely an Appetizer (document)."

His gaze landed directly on Ye Ning.

Ye Ning hurried through the crowd to stand before him. Her cheeks flushed with an abnormal redness from extreme excitement, and in those cold eyes, for the first time, a fire ignited that could melt glaciers.

"Boss," she began, her voice still trembling with an uncontainable quiver.

"Process," Lu Qingshan said, only two words.

He didn't need to hear the outcome; the outcome was already within his foresight. He wanted everyone to know that this result came not from luck but from an all‑encompassing net woven from money, wisdom, and manpower.

Ye Ning inhaled deeply, forcing herself to calm; her voice became clear and powerful, echoing through the hushed hall.

"Following your orders, after the plan launched, I divided the 120 traders into twenty intelligence squads, each responsible for an industry. They are no longer traders, but hounds sniffing the scent of war's blood!"

"The squad code‑named 'Seagull' is responsible for monitoring the United Kingdom Royal Navy supply chain."

As soon as the words fell, a few young people in the hall's corner involuntarily puffed out their chests, faces radiating unparalleled pride.

"They didn't bribe any senior officials; that would be too foolish and too easy to expose. They used the simplest, most effective method—money."

"We infiltrated every peripheral logistics supplier of the Plymouth Naval Shipyard, from truck drivers to warehouse managers to data entry clerks… Over three hundred of the most inconspicuous, lowest‑paid, easily overlooked people at each link became our 'friends'."

A cold curve lifted the corner of Ye Ning's mouth.

"We don't need them to hand over classified documents. We only need them to do one thing: whenever, at any abnormal hour, they receive any 'expedited' or 'special' order that bypasses normal procedures, they call us immediately. For a warehouse manager who is berated daily by his boss and numb to life, a secret phone that gives him direct access to the pinnacle of power is far more tempting than a bonus."

The entire hall erupted in a collective gasp; everyone suddenly understood! It was a Dimensionality Reduction Strike!

"For that," Ye Ning's voice, laced with a hint of allure, said word by word, "we have prepared a bonus for each 'friend' who can supply useful information—enough to let them buy a house with a garden in the countryside."

"Wow—!"

The crowd exploded! If the earlier revelry was due to victory, this boiling now stems from the ultimate worship of the boss's god‑like, unfathomable tactics and his all‑crushing "cash‑power". Using the money for a countryside villa to buy a phone? What a terrifying stroke! What precise calculation!

Lu Qingshan waited until the wave of cheers subsided a bit, then, with a calm voice clear enough for everyone to hear, put an end to the rehearsal.

"Now, you have heard the prelude to war," he said, looking at everyone, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. "They think wealth is the gold in a vault, the numbers in a bank. Soon they will understand that true wealth is the power that makes others feel despair."

"And next, what we will do is teach those lofty empire magnates the first rule of our new casino."

"Despair must be paid for with real gold and silver."