Chapter 365: London as the Chessboard, Hong Kong Island as the Endgame!

"Mr. Ried."

Lu Qingshan finally refocused his gaze on the Vice Prime Minister's face; his eyes were calm and unruffled, yet they made Ried feel like a prisoner stripped of all clothing, naked under a spotlight of billions of watts, with every disguise, dignity, and secret laid bare.

"Now, may we discuss my 'Sincerity'?"

Ried's body jolted sharply, as if struck by an invisible current. He slowly leaned back onto the soft sofa, yet felt himself falling into a bottomless abyss, his strength drained completely. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the hawk‑sharp gaze that had held all the edge, scheming, and the British Empire's arrogance was gone, leaving only endless fatigue, humiliation, and a terror of the unknown power.

"... State your terms."

He forced the words out between his teeth, each syllable feeling like it was tearing his already hoarse vocal cords, and even more like he was personally ripping the British Empire's final veil of 'Decorum'.

I concede.

This imperial minister, who had roamed the political arena for decades and was accustomed to directing affairs from the parliamentary building, was utterly crushed and disarmed by a young Eastern man within minutes of the clash, surrendering.

Lu Qingjun stood aside, watching this historic scene, feeling a scorching current surge from his feet up to the crown of his head, making his limbs tremble. He shivered with excitement, his cheeks flushed bright red, and the look he cast at his brother was no longer admiration but a near‑divine fervor.

The two words 'awesome' are far too pale, utterly unable to describe the myriad of feelings he now harbors.

This is a miracle! A miracle where a single man's force forces an old empire to bow!

Lu Qingshan lifted his teacup, took a gentle sip, and seemed unsurprised by the outcome, as if everything were meant to be.

"My terms were already conveyed clearly through that Quotation Sheet yesterday."

He set the cup down; the bottom struck the tea tray with a crisp 'tap', ringing clearly in everyone's ears, as if heralding the forthcoming verdict.

"First, the price remains unchanged: ten times market price, settled in Gold Settlement." He raised a single finger, his tone even, "This is reasonable compensation for the massive risk I bear, and a… modest punishment for you squandering my precious time."

Ried's complexion grew a shade paler, his lips quivered, yet no rebuttal emerged.

When the opponent already has a knife at your throat, debating the blade's sharpness is the most foolish thing in the world.

"Second," Lu Qingshan extended his second finger, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes, "I don't want your Bank of England's Gold Reserve; that's your nation's veil, and I'm not interested in tearing it. What I want are the core member banks of the London Bullion Market Association, whose Private Gold is stored in Swiss Bank vaults."

"What?!"

This time, even Secretary Allen, who constantly tried to diminish his own presence, cried out in a lost voice, his complexion drained of color.

Ried snapped upright from the sofa, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

Tapping the Bank of England's Gold Reserve would be painful, but it's state money, the government's left hand turned right; locked doors always have a way to be opened.

But using the LBMA member banks' Private Gold is not just digging a root; it's injecting a lethal toxin straight into the heart of the entire London Financial City!

Those banking magnates who control the empire's financial lifeblood, those centuries‑old aristocratic financial families, would go utterly mad! They would not hesitate to lift the roof off Downing Street!

"You… you're forcing us into war with the entire Financial City!" Ried's voice was hoarse, filled with despair.

"No," Lu Qingshan shook his head, correcting, "I'm helping you see reality. War is ultimately fought over money. Since you've decided to fight, those who are best at making money and using it to sway politics should shed some blood for the empire's glory. Or," he looked at Ried's ashen face, a cold curve forming at his mouth, "are you prepared to advise Her Majesty the Queen to sell her Crown and jewels to fund this war?"

Ried's breath caught sharply, his face turning violet from the soul‑piercing remark, leaving him speechless.

This is no longer extortion; it's a Yang Plan, forcing the British Empire's government to rob its own financial oligarchs! It's meant to make the empire rot and collapse from within!

"Third."

Lu Qingshan slowly raised his third finger; the office air seemed to be sucked out with his motion, solidifying into a heavy block of lead.

Everyone held their breath, awaiting the final—and most lethal—judgment.

"Gold is merely a deposit."

Lu Qingshan rose, no longer looking at the near‑collapsed Ried, but paced to the massive World Map. His finger swept over the European continent, the Middle East, the Indian Ocean, and finally rested lightly on a modest yet dazzling island in Southeast Asia on the map.

Hong Kong Island.

"What I want," his voice deepened and clear, like a midnight church bell, bearing an undeniable sense of finality, "are the Priority Acquisition Rights to all the docks, warehouses, shipping operations, and land held on Hong Kong Island by the three British‑capital firms Hutchison Whampoa, Swire, and Jardine Matheson."

His finger hammered heavily on the two characters 'Hong Kong Island'.

"Settle using their closing price on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange on the day before a trading suspension."

He slowly turned, his gaze sweeping over the now‑stone‑frozen James Reed and Allen, announcing each word deliberately.

"I want it all."

The office was deathly silent. One could hear a pin drop.

If the first two demands were robbery, extortion, then this third condition is sheer, outright dismemberment of an imperial colonial system!

What he seeks is not money, not gold.

What he wants is the Yingzi Consortium's last economic lifeline in the Far East! The roots of those century‑old British‑capital conglomerates that have entrenched themselves on Hong Kong Island, siphoning countless riches.

He intends to uproot them completely and swallow them whole!

"Splash."

James Reed completely collapsed on the sofa, eyes vacant, pupils dilated, he felt his heart being fiercely clenched and then thrown into a cold meat grinder, pulverized into fragments.

He finally understood.

From the start, Lu Qingshan's goal was never London, nor the 9.5‑billion‑value futures contract.

His true objective, from beginning to end, has always been the foundation of the London Financial City and the future of the entire Hong Kong Island!

London's earth‑shaking gamble was merely a lever he used to pry the entire British Empire, forcing its politicians to hand over the Far East colonial economic control themselves… a lever!

It is a scheme.

A Heavenly Net that had been laid from the moment he set foot on London soil, enveloping the empire's upper echelons.

"Madman… you are a complete madman…" Ried's lips trembled, like a senile old man, muttering unconsciously.

Lu Qingshan walked back to the tea table, looked at him, and for the first time his face showed a faint, almost compassionate smile.

"Mr. Ried, I'll tell you a secret that might clear your head a bit."

"Before I came to London, I spent three billion Hong Kong dollars to acquire all of Mr. Wilson's holdings on Hong Kong Island."

"Thus, I am now the largest private dock and warehousing logistics provider on Hong Kong Island."

He paused, lifted the now‑cold tea cup toward Ried, as if to toast him.

"Now the question: your Royal Navy, departing from the homeland to distant Asia, sailing south, rounding the Cape of Good Hope, crossing the Indian Ocean, and upon reaching Malacca… guess where the most convenient, nearest, and… safest place to resupply is?"

James Reed's pupils, at that moment, completely lost focus.

He seemed to see an invisible great net, from London to Hong Kong Island, tightly ensnaring the empire's entire shipping routes, and the one who cast the net wore a compassionate smile, watching them futilely struggle within the net.