Chapter 417: The Emperor Isn

The champagne bubbles in the apartment have completely vanished, leaving only a thin layer of pale golden liquid at the bottom of the glass.

The hung‑up phone sounded as if the mute button had been pressed, plunging the top floor of the Saint Remo Apartment into an eerie silence.

Lu Qingshan's team members stood like wax statues, frozen in place.

In their minds, Lu Qingshan's final ultimatum of "twelve hours" kept echoing, along with the crisp sound of the call being cut.

"Brother... you really hung up Rockefeller's phone?" Lu Qingjun's mouth opened wide enough to fit an egg, and he felt his worldview being smashed apart step by step by his older brother.

Lu Qingshan set the empty glass on the table, producing a soft "clink," startling everyone from their daze.

"Otherwise?" he glanced at the group. "Do we wait for him to hang up on me first?"

He walked over to Li Junjie, patting the other's tension‑tightened shoulder.

"Everyone, move."

"We gave Wall Street twelve hours, but Wall Street won't give us a single second of breathing room."

"Li Junjie, David, the Lehman Brothers database—within two hours I need you to compile the most concise Short Selling Manual, pinpointing every toxic asset's ID and the source of each financial loophole."

"I want Wilson in London, at the very first second of opening, to fire a shell precisely into their boardroom!"

David Cohen shivered; the twisted expression on his face, born of Fear and reverence, was finally replaced by a feverish professional excitement.

He sprang up from the sofa, seized his computer, and his fingers clattered on the keyboard.

"No problem, boss! I guarantee this Explanation document is more detailed than their bankruptcy filing!"

Lu Qingshan turned to Zhang Qianru.

"Qianru, the legal team you're coordinating with can start drafting the framework agreement right now."

Lu Qingjun was taken aback. "Brother, what agreement? They haven't agreed yet."

Lu Qingshan gave him a look as if staring at a clueless younger brother.

"He'll agree."

"What we need to do now is, the moment he agrees, slap a contract he cannot refuse or amend directly onto his face."

"I want Morgan Stanley's securitization business in the Place region related to bad‑asset bundling, and all mining company equity they hold with more than five percent ownership."

Zhang Qianru's eyes lit up.

She instantly grasped Lu Qingshan's purpose.

The former means seizing Morgan Stanley's most toxic assets—the core business of this crisis—directly into our hands, effectively controlling their lifeline.

The latter is cutting the fire‑under the pot, snatching the most valuable hard currency they have in the real economy!

"I understand! I'll have them prepare immediately, ensuring every clause is airtight!" Zhang Qianru's tone carried the excitement and tremor of newly wielded authority.

The whole team, like a precision machine wound tight again, roared into high‑speed operation.

In the apartment, only the clatter of keyboards and occasional low murmurs remained.

Lu Qingshan gave no further orders; he simply walked to the window and quietly watched New York's nightscape.

He is waiting.

Waiting for the fermentation of those twelve hours.

Waiting for that email, in Morgan Stanley's boardroom, to trigger an earthquake of power.

Waiting for that capital Emperor to make his sole, correct choice.

……

Meanwhile, in Manhattan Midtown, the Morgan Stanley headquarters building.

In the top‑floor conference room, the atmosphere was as oppressive as the deep sea.

Cigar smoke drifted through the air, yet could not dispel the bone‑deep chill.

Twelve directors, who usually sit aloft controlling the flow of hundreds of billions of dollars, now sat with iron‑blue faces.

On the conference table before them lay thirteen identical printed documents.

They were the Death Ultimatum issued by Ye Ning.

And at the head of the room, John Parker's face, usually bearing a confident smile, was now grotesquely twisted.

His eyes were blood‑shot, staring rigidly at the document's flamboyant signature.

"Forged! This goddamn thing is forged!" He roared like a beast trapped in a cage. "It's that Huaxia kid! He forged it all! He wants to frame me! Frame Morgan Stanley!"

Yet no one paid attention to his roar.

All those present were shrewd; they could instantly see how complete and lethal the evidence chain was.

Transfer records were traceable, encrypted communications' text logic was tight, and the data on twelve assassins was gruesomely detailed.

Most importantly, the Legal Opinion Letter written by Zhang Qianru was like a cold scalpel, precisely cutting into each of their soft spots.

Especially the third part—"Analysis of Board Members' Joint Liability for 'Willful Blindness'."

This chapter made every director feel a knife hanging over their necks.

From the moment they received the email, they were bound together with John Parker's sinking wreck of a ship.

"John." A gray‑haired, eldest director named Richard spoke hoarsely, "Now is not the time to debate truth or falsehood. The issue now is that this thing has already reached the SEC's reporting mailbox."

"And that young man named Lu Qingshan gave us six hours," another director added, his voice trembling unmistakably.

"Six hours! If we don't deal with him within six hours, all of us will be reported to federal prison together!"

"Deal? How to deal?" Parker slammed the table, stood up, and looked down at everyone. "You want to hand me over? I've served the company for thirty years! I've earned countless money for each of you! Now there's a little trouble, and you want to toss me away like trash?"

"A little trouble?" Richard sneered, "You call buying a murderer a little trouble? John, are you insane? Do you think this is Baghdad?"

"I'm protecting the company's interests!" Parker roared, "That Eastern man wants to destroy us! I just used the most direct method!"

"But you failed!" A director usually on good terms with Parker couldn't hold back, "You not only failed, you handed the knife's handle to them! Now that knife hangs over all our necks!"

In the conference room, arguments and roars rose and fell.

Parker tried to bind everyone with past merits and future threats.

And the directors, driven by Fear and the instinct of self‑preservation, began to distance themselves from him.

The meeting, after less than an hour, had already turned into an ugly internal conflict.

At that moment, the conference room door was pushed open, and Richard's secretary, pale as death, rushed in.

"Mr. Richard... something's wrong..."

"Get out! Can't you see we're in a meeting!" Parker shouted angrily.

"Let him speak," Richard raised his hand, a foreboding feeling rising within him.

The secretary, voice trembling, uttered a sentence that instantly silenced the entire conference room.

"The Rockefeller family... Mr. David Rockefeller's office just called... He wants to know when our board can give him an 'account'."

Rockefeller.

That name, like a bucket of ice water, drenched the crown of John Parker's head.

The fury on his face vanished instantly, replaced by an ash‑gray despair.

He knew he was finished.

The Emperor had personally ordered that his head be taken.

The other directors were first stunned, then their faces showed a look of relief.

They understood that this matter already had a top‑level verdict.

They no longer needed to argue or hesitate; they only needed to execute.

Richard stood up, glanced at the despondent Parker, his gaze as if looking at a corpse.

"I propose convening an emergency board immediately to vote on whether to suspend all duties of Mr. John Parker and to establish an Independent Investigation Committee."

"I second."

"Second."

"..."

A single hand rose on the conference table.

John Parker sank back into his seat, watching the 'partners' who once called him brother, shared fine wine and cigars, now unhesitatingly raise their hands, sentencing him to death.

He lost.

He lost utterly.

Yet, just as Richard was about to announce the vote results, his private phone rang suddenly.

He glanced at the caller ID; it was an unknown number.

He intended to hang up, but inexplicably, he pressed the answer button.

On the other end, a cold, emotionless woman's voice spoke.

"Is this Mr. Richard?"

"I am. Who are you?"

"I am Mr. Lu Qingshan's assistant."

Richard's heart lurched.

He instinctively glanced at the clock on the wall.

Less than three hours had passed since Lu Qingshan's twelve‑hour deadline.

He hadn't even gone to find the other party, yet they came knocking first?

He forced calmness as he walked to a corner of the conference room, lowering his voice.

"Ms. Ye? May I ask what instructions Mr. Lu has?"

He employed the word 'instructions'.

On the other end, Ye Ning ignored his humility entirely, stating calmly.

"Mr. Lu asked me to tell you he just changed his mind."

A cold sweat broke out on Richard's back instantly.

"Changed his mind? What does that mean?"

"He now wants a result right now."

Ye Ning's voice, like a scalpel, precisely cut off his last shred of hope.

"Either you hand over John Parker now and agree to all the conditions we previously presented."

"Or I will press send now, broadcasting all internal audit reports from Morgan Stanley over the past three years concerning MBS and CDO operations to every top‑ten global news outlet."

Richard's pupils contracted to the size of a needle tip in an instant.

He understood.

The other side not only had evidence of Parker's contract killing.

They also held the company's most core, most incriminating financial secrets!

This is no longer a threat.

This is flipping the table!

This is to make Morgan Stanley, along with the entire Wall Street, die together!

Richard's hand gripping the phone began to shake violently.

He looked at the board members still waiting for him to announce the vote results, and at the John Parker whose face was ashen.

He knew he no longer had a choice.

No, from the start they never had a choice.

He forced his whole strength into the phone, squeezing a few words from his throat.

"We... agree."