Chapter 392: The Federal Reserve

On the private apron at London Heathrow Airport, a Bayflow government aircraft waited silently in the morning light.

"London side, I'll leave it to you and Wilson." Lu Qingshan stood on the gangway and said to Li Zhi'an in front of him, "I'm not after a victory on paper, but total control. Go in my stead to meet the shareholders Wilson brought, and plant our flag into those companies' boards, into every one of their decisions."

Li Zhi'an's back was straight, his eyes no longer showed the earlier excitement, replaced by a heavy sense of responsibility. "Don't worry, boss; when you return, this will be our most solid stronghold in Europe."

Lu Qingshan nodded, said nothing further, and turned to board the aircraft.

Inside the cabin, it was a world apart from the tense clamor of London in recent days. Lu Qingjun, like a child who just entered Grand View Garden, alternated between feeling the soft leather seat and leaning against the window, watching the people and cars on the ground shrink farther and farther.

"Bro, this plane is really something! It feels even more impressive than when we flew from Capital City to Hong Kong Island!" he leaned close to Lu Qingshan, lowered his voice, "What do you think, when will we buy one? Then returning to Capital City, we could park at Nanyuan, so majestic!"

On the other side, David Cohen had already changed into a flashy Versace leisure suit, wearing sunglasses, crossing his legs, holding a glass of champagne, and gesturing at the clouds outside the window as if mapping the world.

"New York! My home court! Guys, welcome to my turf!" He took off his sunglasses, winking at the crowd, "When we get there, everything follows my command. From Wall Street's best hot‑dog stand to Fifth Avenue's most hidden cigar bar, we've got it covered! Boss, rest assured, I'll make sure you experience a king‑like indulgence!"

Ye Ning ignored his bragging; on the small desk before her sat a laptop, its screen filled with dense green and red figures scrolling rapidly. She had already entered the state of the next battlefield.

Li Junjie, meanwhile, held his notebook, brow furrowed, drawing intricate schematics while muttering, "Jungle Law… beasts… asymmetric games… too many variables, the old model must be iterated, we need to introduce chaos theory and geopolitical weighting…"

After several hours of smooth flight, the aircraft finally landed at New York Kennedy International Airport.

When the cabin doors opened, a hot, dry air scented with the sea and money rushed in, starkly different from London's damp atmosphere.

At the foot of the stairs, a young Chinese woman in a white professional dress, her long hair neatly styled, stood quietly. She appeared twenty‑five or twenty‑six, with a pretty face, a poised demeanor, and a perfectly measured smile. When she saw Lu Qingshan's party descend, she hurried forward to greet them.

"Mr. Lu, hello, I'm Zhang Qianru. Mr. Guo asked me to wait for you here." Her voice was clear and pleasant, Mandarin spoken with precise diction.

"Thank you for your effort." Lu Qingshan shook her hand.

"It's no trouble; serving you is my honor." Zhang Qianru's gaze swept quickly over everyone in the team, finally landing on David, where her mouth formed a courteous smile.

"Hey, beautiful!" David immediately stepped forward, adjusting his tie, "I'm David Cohen, the chief trader of this firm and a native of New York. Whatever comes up, you can go straight to me."

Zhang Qianru smiled and nodded, "Mr. Cohen, hello, pleased to meet you. But you're from Brooklyn, aren't you? I checked your information; from your home to Wall Street in Manhattan, if traffic isn't jammed, it takes forty minutes by car."

David's smile froze.

Lu Qingjun let out a "Puff" beside him, almost laughing out loud, and quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

The party boarded several black Cadillacs that had been waiting, and the convoy smoothly left the airport, heading toward Manhattan.

"Mr. Lu," on the vehicle, Zhang Qianru took a tablet from her briefcase and handed it over, "This is a summary of some basic information about the New York market, prepared according to Mr. Guo's instructions."

She offered no extra pleasantries and went straight into work mode.

"London's financial system centers on 'Old Money' and banks. New York is different; here 'New Money' and funds rule. All of Wall Street, on the surface, is controlled by a financial network extending from the Four Great Families—Morgan, Rockefeller, Mellon, and DuPont—but beneath the surface lie countless greedier, bottom‑less hedge funds and investment banks, the real active hyenas of this jungle."

She paused, her tone turning serious, "Mr. Li Fuying's warning is crucial. Here, losers in commercial competition never get a dignified exit; they are simply carved up. They never believe in tears, only in strength…and… even stronger violence."

Li Junjie, listening beside her, eyes sparkling, scribbled rapidly in his notebook as if he'd discovered an entirely new research topic.

"I know all that," David interjected resentfully, "I made it out of this very environment! Their tricks, I'm very familiar with."

Zhang Qianru gave him a glance, offered no rebuttal, and continued speaking to Lu Qingshan, "Besides these visible opponents, there's an invisible, true 'Banker'—the Federal Reserve."

"I know, the United States' central bank," David blurted.

"Yes, but does Mr. Cohen know when it was founded?" Zhang Qianru asked with a smile.

"Of course! 1913! To address the 1907 banking crisis, President Woodrow Wilson signed the Federal Reserve Act." David wore a proud grin; it was the textbook answer.

Zhang Qianru nodded, then shifted her tone, looked at Lu Qingshan, and uttered a sentence that silenced the entire carriage.

"1913, converted to the Eastern calendar, is the second year of the Republic. The previous year, on February 12, 1912, the Qing Dynasty, which had ruled China for over 260 years, had just announced its abdication."

The air inside the vehicle seemed to freeze.

Lu Qingjun and Li Junjie were both stunned; they had never imagined linking those two seemingly unrelated events.

David's face was full of question marks, completely baffled: "Wait… hold on! What are you saying? The Qing? What's that? An ancient Chinese dynasty—what does it have to do with us establishing our own central bank in America?"

Zhang Qianru's gaze fell on Lu Qingshan, seeing him listening with interest, and continued, "Mr. Cohen, the connection is huge. In the gold‑standard era, whoever held the most gold controlled the world's pricing power for currency. But before the gold standard, most of the world, especially the East, operated on a silver standard. The Qing Empire was then the world's largest holder and user of silver."

Her voice was clear and calm, as if dissecting a precise historical model.

"When an ancient empire that possessed the world's largest silver reserves collapsed with a thunderous crash, the old financial order it embodied disintegrated. Almost simultaneously, an emerging power built on gold reserves, poised to dominate the world, legislated to shift monetary issuance from the government to a 'central bank' controlled by several major private banking families. Do you think that's merely a coincidence?"

David opened his mouth but could utter no word. The financial knowledge he prided himself on seemed so thin and childish before Zhang Qianru's sweeping, cross‑cultural narrative that spanned politics and finance.

Lu Qingshan watched the street scene rush backward outside the window; the skyscrapers that pierced the clouds seemed to him like a series of coiled steel beasts.

He finally spoke, his voice calm yet carrying an unquestionable resolve.

"Qianru, you did very well."

He turned his head toward the blank‑stared David and the thoughtful Li Junjie, Ye Ning, and the others.

"Did everyone understand? Our opponent this time isn't the old aristocrats in London clutching ancestral plaques. It's a group that set the trap a hundred years ago, draining the blood of an Eastern empire to feed their own new‑style beasts."

A cold curve lifted at the corner of Lu Qingshan's mouth.

"They don't follow rules, they like to flip tables. Then we'll play something even more thrilling with them."

"Tell them the new hunter has entered the arena."