Chapter 366: When All Options Are Exhausted, the Dagger Shows

That phrase "the safest choice," like a silent sledgehammer, shattered James Reed's final mental defense.

He fell backward, sinking heavily into the sofa, his mind a blank. All his political maneuvers, the empire's pride, his personal dignity, at that moment were torn to pieces by the invisible net stretching from London to Hong Kong Island.

He finally saw the full picture of the young man before him.

He was not a speculator, not a merchant, not even a Financial Giant Shark.

He was a strategist, a monster who, from the moment he set foot in London, treated the whole sun‑never‑sets empire as a chessboard, regarding war, politics, and finance as pieces, all to seize economic hegemony in the Far East!

The silence in the office was so heavy it could crush a person's bones.

Lu Qingjun trembled with excitement, biting his lip hard enough to keep himself from shouting in his over‑excitement. He stared at his brother's silhouette, which in his eyes rose infinitely, merging with the skyline outside the window.

In the corner, David Cohen leaned against the wall, gasping heavily, feeling his heart about to leap out of his throat. He turned his head toward Li Junjie and saw the young man completely stunned, the notebook he clutched falling to the floor unmoving, his gaze almost pilgrim‑like as he stared blankly at Lu Qingshan.

"Crazy… completely fucking crazy…" David muttered in a voice only he could hear, "I thought we came to London to rob a bank, but the boss just took the mint's ownership certificate home…"

Finally, that death‑like silence was broken by a trembling voice.

"Mr. Reed… we…" Prime Minister's secretary Allen's face turned deathly pale, his hoarse voice beginning as he tried to remind his superior that they were still in "negotiations".

James Reed's body shivered; he summoned all his strength to barely sit upright on the sofa. He lifted his head, his eyes—once as sharp as an eagle's—now clouded and blood‑shot.

He looked at Lu Qingshan, making his final struggle.

"Mr. Lu, do you know what your third condition means?" his voice was as dry as two sandpapers rubbing, "You are dissecting the empire's last core asset! Parliament won't agree! Her Majesty the Queen won't agree! The entire Western world will see you as a public enemy! You are declaring war on all the old order!"

Those words were less a threat than a desperate wail.

Lu Qingjun's heart lifted again, his eyes nervously on his brother.

Yet Lu Qingshan simply walked back to the tea table, picked up the Quotation Sheet that had become a "judgment", and gave it a light flick as if brushing away nonexistent dust.

"Mr. Reed, you still don't understand."

His voice was soft, yet like a sledgehammer striking Reed's heart.

"Order? Whose order? The one you built with warships and opium, a order that lets you plunder others' wealth at will?"

Lu Qingshan lifted his gaze, his eyes landing on Reed's face.

"What I give you has never been a multiple‑choice; it is the only way out."

"Refusing my terms is easy. Your fleet can't reach Portsmouth, and even if it does, it's just a convoy of moving iron coffins. If the war fails, Iron Lady's government will topple instantly, the pound will collapse in an instant, and London Financial City will become a worldwide joke. Then, not even Jardine, Swire, you'll barely hold onto Scotland."

He paused, then gently pushed the Quotation Sheet in front of Reed.

"But if you accept my terms, you can win this war, keep the government, stabilize the pound, preserve the dignity you, as a member of the Five Permanent Members, still have. What you'd pay is merely some assets you're already about to lose, far beyond the horizon."

Lu Qingshan leaned back in his chair, looking at the Vice Prime Minister whose face was ashen, his tone flat to the point of cruelty.

"So, Mr. Reed, tell me. Am I humiliating you, or saving you?"

"I…"

Reed opened his mouth but could not utter a single word.

He felt his soul ripped open by those words, hanging in the cold air.

Yes, saving.

Using the most humiliating method, paying the price of flesh‑cutting and bloodletting, to buy a meagre chance of survival.

This, fuck, is politics.

In the corner, David Cohen grabbed Li Junjie's arm, snarling madly, "Learn, kid! See? This, fuck, is what a top‑tier deal looks like! The boss isn't selling steel or cotton; he's selling 'the empire's stability'! One stability swaps for three foreign firms! This deal, Downing Street, even on its knees, must be done!"

Li Junjie shuddered, as if waking from a dream; he scrambled to pick up the notebook from the floor, frantically scribbling on it as if to engrave everything happening before him into his very bones.

After a long, suffocating silence.

James Reed finally lowered his head, which had been proud for decades, slowly.

"…We… agree."

The three words floated lightly, yet seemed to drain every ounce of his strength.

He collapsed completely, like a statue stripped of its spine, utterly bereft of any luster.

It's done!

Lu Qingjun's fist clenched at his side, nails digging deep into his flesh, a torrent of ecstatic joy coursing through every nerve, nearly making him howl to the heavens!

Yet Lu Qingshan's face showed no trace of triumph.

He merely gave a glance to Ye Ning beside him.

Ye Ning understood, immediately pulling from his briefcase a pre‑prepared document and a Montblanc fountain pen, stepping forward and gently placing them on the coffee table.

"Mr. Reed, now that we have reached consensus, I think, to reflect our mutual Sincerity and to ensure smooth future cooperation, we should first sign this cooperation memorandum," Lu Qingshan's voice remained flat.

James Reed and Allen both looked up, and when they saw the beautifully printed memorandum, their pupils contracted.

Even the memorandum was prepared in advance?

When exactly was this whole scheme set up?

"Mr. Lu, this is against protocol!" Secretary Allen finally mustered courage, shouting sharply, "A transfer of assets this massive requires cabinet discussion and legal review; we can't just … here."

"Mr. Allen." Lu Qingshan cut him off, his gaze fixed on Reed, "I'm a man who likes efficiency. Moreover, I only trust what's on paper. If this memorandum can't be signed today, then I'll have to consider our conversation just a pleasant chat."

He pointed at the red encrypted phone.

"Perhaps I should call General Gar Teri of Argentina right now, tell him the weather in London is fine, perfect for afternoon tea."

"No!"

James Reed jerked up from the sofa like a scorpion sting, letting out a terrified scream.

He stared rigidly at the phone, as if it were a primordial beast that chose its victims.

He knew that whatever Lu Qingshan said, he would definitely do.

He could not afford to lose.

The British Empire could not afford to lose either.

He trembled, reached out, and picked up the pen.

That pen felt as heavy as a thousand jin, pressing his arm until it trembled uncontrollably.

He looked at the clear clauses on the memorandum: Party A, the British Empire government; Party B, Hong Kong Island Xinghan Group.

Below were the full list of core assets on Hong Kong Island owned by the three foreign firms Harmony, Ancient, and Hutchison Whampoa, dense and shocking to the eye.

This is not a memorandum.

This is clearly an imperial "ceding treaty"!

This is clearly a new‑era Treaty of Nanking!

He closed his eyes, and in his mind flashed the portrait of Queen Victoria, and the Union Jack that once covered the sun‑never‑sets Empire across the globe.

In the end, every image froze on Lu Qingshan's terrifyingly calm face.

"Sign it." Lu Qingshan's voice sounded like a final verdict.

James Reed opened his eyes, and the light in them was completely extinguished.

He bent down and, on the document that would forever be sealed in the highest‑security archive room, used all his strength to write his name, stroke by stroke.

The pen tip brushed the paper, producing a rustling sound, like an era silently weeping.