Chapter 372: Signing a Humiliating Treaty, Then Hearing a Soul‑Crushing Remark!

I'm here to be the master.

The words were like an invisible steel needle, piercing the taut film that filled the office.

James Reed's ashen face twitched sharply. The last glint of feral light in his murky eyes was snuffed out, replaced by the most primal fear one feels when confronting an incomprehensible, unbeatable force. He sensed he wasn't facing a businessman but a ghost from the East—a monster that would trample the old world's rules underfoot and rewrite the order.

His lips trembled like a fish out of water, yet he could not utter a single syllable. Dignity, warning, threat… all crumbled into laughable dust before the word "master."

Lu Qingjun, Li Zhi'an, David Cohen and Li Junjie stood in the corner as if struck by a petrifying spell, forgetting even to breathe. In their minds the weighty yet airy words kept echoing.

When the master…

In this city that once was the world's center, in an office that overlooks the empire's financial heart, an Eastern man said those words to the Vice Prime Minister of the British Empire.

What arrogance, and what… sheer inevitability!

After a long, suffocating dead silence, James Reed finally moved. He rose from the sofa like a wind‑up toy that had run out of springs, in an agonizingly slow, stiff motion. Secretary Allen hurriedly steadied him as if supporting a porcelain statue about to collapse.

"Mr. Lu…" Reed's voice rasped like sandpaper. He no longer looked at Lu Qingshan, his hollow gaze fixed on the intricate carpet pattern. "The empire will keep its promise. But… London has its own memory; it never forgets its enemies."

Those words were no longer a warning, but a curse soaked in endless venom and despair—a defeated man's final mutter.

Lu Qingshan's face remained impassive; he handed the signed contract to Ye Ning beside him, then returned his gaze to Reed's hunched silhouette.

"Please remember what you said today, Vice Prime Minister," he said, his voice calm as if stating a fact. "I never forget either. We shall meet again."

James Reed's body convulsed violently, as if the words had drained his last ounce of strength. He dared not linger; with Allen's support he staggered, dragging his feet, and fled the office that had repeatedly shattered his dignity.

The door was gently closed by Ye Ning.

Bang!

A muffled thud made Lu Qingjun's legs go limp; he plopped onto the carpet, wiped a sudden cold sweat from his forehead, and gulped air as if he'd just survived a ten‑kilometer‑high extreme parachute jump.

"Brother… my legs are weak… my heart's about to leap out…"

David Cohen seemed to have been pulled from icy water and tossed into a fire. He shivered, then erupted with excitement, grabbing the frantically note‑taking Li Junjie, lowering his voice, and shouting in a manic tone, "Did you see that? Did you see that? This is the legendary 'King's Contempt'! I bet that old bastard will have at least a month of nightmares when he gets home—dreams full of the boss saying, 'Hey, old man, your wig's crooked! No, your empire's crooked!'"

Li Junjie's pen tip wavered under the shake, leaving a long streak on his notebook. Yet he didn't stop; he wrote faster, muttering unconsciously, "Master… not possession, but setting rules… not plunder, but defining value… leverage the empire's needs to pry at the financial families' foundations, then use those families' futures to turn the tables on the empire… My god, this is a perfect closed loop… this is the hand of a god…"

The office finally relaxed into the ease belonging to the victors.

Ye Ning safely tucked away the contract, and Li Zhi'an—who had returned to the office at an unknown time and had been silently standing behind her—exchanged a glance with her. Neither wore the post‑catastrophe euphoria of Lu Qingjun's group; instead a hint of solemnity lingered on their faces.

"Boss." Li Zhi'an spoke first, his voice as steady as always, though a trace of worry crept into his brows. "Security just reported that a Jaguar with diplomatic plates has been parked at the corner opposite our building since Mr. Reed entered. When our men moved to investigate, the car drove off."

Ye Ning nodded in agreement: "James Reed is, after all, the Vice Prime Minister; he represents the entire empire's power. There's also Rothschild and the Shason Family—we're essentially cutting into their hearts. Those people may have lost in the market, but they might resort to other means."

Their concerns were justified. This is London, the opponent's home turf. What Lu Qingshan did today was like a lone warrior storming a pride of lions—snatching the meat from their mouths and pulling out the alpha's teeth. Will the old‑world lion kings gladly accept that?

The office's relaxed atmosphere turned serious in an instant because of the reminder. Lu Qingjun glanced anxiously at his brother.

Lu Qingshan merely smiled, walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself another half‑glass of brandy, then returned to the sofa and settled back, fully relaxed.

"Worry is natural. Keep Ahu and the others on their toes these days, watch their comings and goings." He took a sip; the amber liquid flashed in his eyes. "But no need to be overly nervous. They're testing us, and reminding me this is their territory."

He looked up at the assorted subordinates before him and, deliberately, explained, "They want to act but can't act recklessly. The whole world's eyes are on us, on Downing Street. As the 'Eastern God of Wealth' who can sway a war's course, if something goes wrong in London, how do you think international capital will react? Will London Financial City's reputation survive?"

"Moreover," he continued, his gaze deepening, "the one in a hurry isn't us; it's Iron Lady. She must win this battle, and win it beautifully. So, until her fleet returns triumphantly from Ma Island, I'm the guest she can't afford to offend, and she'll even have to assign someone to guard my safety."

He paused, drained the glass in one gulp, and the crystal cup chimed lightly on the table.

"As for the future…" Lu Qingshan rose, walked back to the massive World Map, his gaze sweeping over Europe and landing precisely on the East.

"It won't be long before Iron Lady has to go to the Capital City herself."

His voice was soft, yet everyone present felt their hearts miss a beat.

Going to the Capital City?

Why?

Lu Qingjun and David were bewildered, but Ye Ning and Li Zhi'an's pupils snapped shut; they instantly recalled a larger, more sensitive backdrop hidden by the dazzling glare of this earth‑shaking gamble—the future of Hong Kong Island.

Lu Qingshan stared at the brilliant island on the map, a subtle curve forming at the corner of his mouth unnoticed by anyone.

London's game had only just concluded its first half.

The real stakes were only now being laid on the table.

He spoke leisurely, as if addressing his subordinates and as if talking to himself.

We'll see.