Chapter 401: Turn the Lawsuit into a World‑Wide Headline!

Night, sleepless.

The top floor of Saint Remo Apartment is brightly lit, with no trace of post‑celebration joy; instead there is a scorching sensation from metal parts grinding under high speed.

David Cohen sinks into the sofa like a puddle of mud, eyes vacant staring at the ceiling, muttering words like "Rex Island Prison", "Federal felony", his whole body already in a semi‑shock state.

Lu Qingjun is like a wolf trapped in a cage, pacing anxiously, occasionally glancing at his older brother, wanting to ask something but fearing to disturb him, his face flushed red with bottled questions and worries.

The center of the whole team is no longer the floor‑to‑ceiling window painted with a bullseye, but has become Zhang Qianru.

Three phones sit before her, headphones on her ears, and she exudes a powerful aura far beyond her years.

"Yes, Mr. Greenberg, I'm certain. The plaintiff is Prospector Capital, the defendants are the New York Police Department and Morgan Stanley. The grounds: the former abused authority, the latter engaged in unfair competition."

"Cost is not an issue; I need your firm's strongest litigation team, and I want a Partner‑level senior lawyer to lead it personally."

"No, we will not accept an out‑of‑court settlement; our goal is to enter a public trial procedure."

Her English is fluent and precise, bearing the rigor of a law student and leaving no room for doubt. The pressure that had suffocated her yesterday now turns into fuel that excites her. She feels she is not handling a case but writing history.

Li Junjie sits in the corner, the laptop screen reflecting his exhilarated face. He does not listen to the legal jargon; instead he frantically gathers information online, his fingers striking the keyboard as if playing an rousing battle song.

"Boss, I've compiled the email addresses of the finance editors of the major mainstream media, and also the contacts of the most influential independent commentators on Wall Street." He looks up at the only person who remains absolutely calm.

Lu Qingshan stands beside the liquor cabinet, leisurely brewing himself a cup of kung‑fu tea.

From washing the tea leaves, moistening them, to brewing, his movements flow like clouds, as if he were in his own courtyard in Fuqiang Hutong rather than a command center of a Financial War. The rising tea aroma carves a tranquil corner in the air, now muddied by money and conspiracies.

"No rush." He discards the first brew and says lightly, "The bullet, wait for the signal gun to fire before shooting."

The signal gun fires precisely at nine a. m. New York time the next morning.

Huaxia's Consulate General in New York, temporary press conference site.

Dozens of world‑leading media outlets have their long‑range and short‑range guns already aimed at the podium; reporters murmur, speculating on the purpose of this briefing. Recent Sino‑American relations are delicate; any ripple could become a headline.

At exactly nine, the Consul General steps onto the stage with a solemn expression.

No pleasantries, no small talk.

"Reporters, today's briefing addresses the malicious incident that occurred last night against our nation's investment enterprises in the United States, and states our firm stance."

The venue falls silent instantly.

"Yesterday, one of the Pilot Enterprises invested in by our foreign‑exchange reserve fund, 'Prospector Capital', while conducting normal, lawful Financial War activities in the United States, had its partner subjected to baseless harassment and illegal detention by New York City law‑enforcement, severely disrupting its regular business operations."

"Boom!"

The sentence detonated among the reporters like a bomb.

"Prospector Capital"!

The mysterious name that last night wiped out Morgan Stanley, turning all of Wall Street's heads, is in fact Huaxia's official capital!

Countless flashbulbs blaze wildly, shutter clicks fill the air, and the reporters' expressions shift from bewilderment to feverish excitement.

This is a super‑big news story!

The Consul General's voice, amplified through the microphone, rings clearly throughout the hall and, via television broadcast and internet streams, reaches the whole world.

"We express serious concern and strong dissatisfaction with this abuse of public authority, which is overtly discriminatory and grossly violates market fairness principles. We urge the relevant U. S. authorities to immediately correct the error, release the illegally detained personnel, and guarantee all lawful rights of our enterprises in the United States."

"We reserve the right to take any necessary follow‑up measures."

…

Morgan Stanley headquarters, top floor.

John Parker has not slept all night, bloodshot eyes. The screen before him shows the company's stock price, at yesterday's close pinned seven percent below the opening price; in one night the market cap evaporated by nearly eighty billion US Dollars.

This is not just money; it is disgrace.

"Did you find out? Who exactly is behind 'Prospector Capital'?" he asks hoarsely the Chief Secretary before him.

The secretary's complexion is even worse; he trembles as he hands over a tablet.

On the screen, the consulate's press conference is being livestreamed.

When the Consul General uttered "our foreign‑exchange reserve fund participates in investment," John Parker felt his heart seized by an invisible giant hand, nearly stopping.

He bolts upright, the sudden motion toppling the chair behind him.

"What did you say?" he can't believe his ears.

Huaxia… official?

He had thought he was dealing with a reckless Eastern speculator, one he could crush with Wall Street's familiar tools—capital, rules, power—into powder.

But now the opponent's identity has leapt from an "individual" to the level of a "state".

The nature of this war changed instantly.

Before he could recover from the shock, his private phone rang.

It was the co‑chairman of the board.

"John, you'd better give me an explanation. What kind of trouble have you gotten us into? Why is our company appearing at a Huaxia foreign‑affairs press conference?"

On the other end, the tone is no longer allied camaraderie but cold questioning and alienation.

At that moment, the office door is flung open, the head of the Legal Department rushes in, face showing apocalyptic terror.

"Sir! We… we've been sued!"

"What?"

"'Prospector Capital' just filed a complaint with the Southern District of New York Federal Court! They… they are also suing the NYPD and us!" The legal head's voice trembles, "They hired Greenberg Teraug Law Firm! Rudy Giuliani is leading the team personally!"

Rudy Giuliani!

Hearing the name, John Parker's vision went black, his body swayed, and he fell back onto the floor.

He is no ordinary lawyer; he is a former federal prosecutor from the Southern District of New York, the "Wall Street butcher" who has sent countless Wall Street sharks to prison. His specialty is antitrust and securities‑fraud litigation.

Now, this "butcher" has turned his blade on himself.

…

Saint Remo Apartment.

When Julianne's iconic face appeared on the TV, announcing that she accepted a commission from Prospector Capital to fight for market fairness and investors' rights, David Cohen, who was sprawled on the sofa, slowly, slowly sat up.

He looked at the TV, then turned his head to the Eastern man leisurely sipping tea; in his eyes, Fear was rapidly fading, replaced by a mixed worship of bewilderment, shock, and frenzy.

Report the police? Report Morgan Stanley?

He had thought this was a notion only a madman would have, like a chicken egg hitting a stone.

But now, what did he see?

Huaxia's official platform elevated the financial conflict to the diplomatic level.

The nation's top "Butcher" lawyer team sharpened their knives, turning business competition into a legal trial.

Lu Qingshan wasn't merely using a chicken egg against a stone.

He directly summoned two meteors, intending to smash Morgan Stanley—the "stone"—and its very foundation together into pieces!

"I… I understand…" David muttered, suddenly feeling that everything he had learned at Wharton School was nothing more than kindergarten‑level make‑believe.

"The boss… he isn't just going to sue…" Li Junjie also stopped typing, supporting his glasses, his eyes behind the lenses shining terrifyingly, "He wants to turn this lawsuit into a worldwide live‑reality show! A global headline!"

"Morgan Stanley has become the villain protagonist, the NYPD the accomplice, and we are the warriors challenging the evil dragon!"

"From now on, Morgan Stanley's stock price will be tightly bound to every detail of this lawsuit, every hearing, every media report! As long as the case remains unresolved, this knife will forever hang over their heads!"

Lu Qingjun felt his blood boil, thumped his thigh hard: "Exactly! He wants us dead, so we drag him onto TV, let the whole world see how he bullies! This move, damn, is unbeatable!"

The whole apartment's atmosphere ignited once again.

This time, it was no longer pure euphoria, but awe and dread after witnessing higher‑dimensional intelligence.

Lu Qingshan set down his teacup and walked to Li Junjie's side.

"The media's 'bullets' can now be fired," he calmly instructed, "Feed them all the data we have on how Morgan Stanley uses off‑exchange tactics to suppress rivals."

"Also, convey a message to Razor and Black Widow for me."

Lu Qingshan looked out the window at the skyscraper representing Morgan Stanley, which glared sharply in the morning light.

"Leave the courtroom battle to the lawyers."

"We should return to our own game."

He picked up the red marker on the table and, on the floor‑to‑ceiling glass, beside Morgan Stanley's bullseye, drew a new, larger circle.

Inside the circle were the names of several other top Wall Street investment banks.

"Goldman Sachs, Merrill Lynch, Lehman Brothers…"

He turned around, looking at the team whose fighting spirit had reignited.

"Morgan Stanley thinks we only bite at them."

"I'll show them just how big our appetite really is."

At the moment his words fell, the red encrypted phone rang again.

Lu Qingshan answered the call.

On the other end came an aged, steady voice in English, with a hint of curiosity.

"Is this Mr. Lu?"

"It is."

"Hello, boss, I'm Wilson."