Chapter 421: Even God Has to Listen to Me

That word "you", traveling through the electric current like a steel needle tempered with ice, pierced the other end of the phone.

The air in the apartment seemed to have been sucked dry by that word.

David Cohen's hands clutched the sofa armrest tightly; he felt his heart had stopped beating, and the whole world reduced to the dead silence inside the handset.

On the other end, David Rockefeller's breathing became audible—heavy, suppressed, like an aged lion king on the brink of fury, restraining its roar.

"Young man," after a full half‑minute, the hoarse voice sounded again, each syllable squeezing out like it came from between teeth, metallic in texture, "You don't seem to have figured out who you're talking to."

"I'm very clear about it." Lu Qingshan's voice remained steady, showing no emotion, "I'm speaking to a family patriarch who can't even control his own Chief Executive Officer."

"I'm talking to someone who watches his own rules being torn apart, yet can only call me, an 'outsider' fire‑chief, to put out the flames."

"So, Mr. Rockefeller, who exactly is playing this dangerous game?"

Lu Qingshan held the handset, paced to the window; his voice was low but each word cut to the heart.

"Your dog bit me. You shouldn't be roaring at me now; you should consider what price you're willing to pay so that I won't burn your dog together with the nest you prepared for it."

"You!"

On the other end, an uncontainable roar finally erupted.

David Cohen shivered all over, nearly sliding off the sofa.

In his whole life, he had never heard anyone speak to Rockefeller with such tone and such a metaphor.

This isn't a negotiation; it's a bare‑knuckle humiliation!

Yet Lu Qingshan gave the other no chance to vent his anger.

"Pandora's magic box was opened by John Parker. He showed everyone that when financial tricks fail, you can simply send someone to Clear the Scene. Once that switch is flipped, it can't be turned back."

"Today it's me; who will it be tomorrow? The Goldman Sachs chairman? Or the Citibank president?"

"Mr. Rockefeller, you need to set an example more than I do. You need a sufficiently fierce, ruthless, background‑free 'foreign chicken' to scare every scheming monkey on Wall Street into terror."

"I am your best choice."

"And that Federal Reserve statement isn't a gift from you; it's a collar you placed around my neck. It guarantees that this 'chicken' of mine will only peck the monkeys you want me to peck, and won't go rogue and overturn the whole monkey mountain."

Logic, a perfect closed loop.

Threat turned into cooperation.

Extortion turned into a deal.

In Li Junjie and Zhang Qianru's eyes, the shock had faded, replaced by a near‑pilgrimage glow.

They finally understood that behind all of Lu Qingshan's madness and absurdity lay a cold, precise, invulnerable logic.

He wasn't going mad; he was redefining the game's rules with a method beyond anyone's imagination.

On the other end, the heavy breathing gradually eased.

Rage was replaced by deeper calculation.

After a long while—so long that everyone in the apartment thought the call had ended—Rockefeller's voice sounded again, the anger gone, leaving only a bottomless fatigue and hoarseness.

"…The Federal Reserve's purpose is to maintain stability in the financial markets."

He neither agreed nor refused.

But he said those words.

That was enough.

"I look forward to it."

Lu Qingshan replied calmly, then, under the entire team's stunned gaze, hung up the phone once more on his own initiative.

"Clack."

The handset was placed back, its light click sounding like a decree of pardon.

With a 'splash', David Cohen's body lost all support, sliding from the sofa onto the carpet; he gulped breath after breath, his face a picture of post‑trauma exhaustion.

"We won… brother… is this… the win?" Lu Qingjun's voice trembled as he stepped beside Lu Qingshan, gazing at his elder brother's calm profile, feeling as if he were looking at a deity.

Lu Qingshan gave no reply, turned, and looked at the team he had completely subjugated.

"Win?"

He shook his head.

"This is only the qualification to sit at the table."

He scanned everyone, his gaze sweeping from the exhilarated Lu Qingjun, the exhausted David, to the shining eyes of Li Junjie and Zhang Qianru.

"Don't dawdle, the Emperor has already nodded; the butcher should get to work."

His voice instantly pulled everyone back from that heart‑pounding standoff into reality.

"Ye Ning."

"Present."

"Contact Wilson immediately, tell him that after the London open, I want to see the Shason Family's funds rush into Lehman Brothers' stock like madmen. The bigger the commotion, the better; I want all of Europe to know he's gone crazy. Activate the Victoria Opportunity Fund accounts as well, and have London traders run at full throttle."

"Understood." Ye Ning's fingers were already dancing across the keyboard.

"David, Li Junjie."

"Boss!" The two straightened simultaneously.

"The 'positive' news you fabricated can be released. Find a few low‑credibility financial tabloids, use an 'anonymous source' angle, and spread the fake story that Lehman Brothers is about to be merged and receive investment from a Middle East Sovereign Fund!"

"I want every retail investor in the market to smell the blood and rush in with us!"

David Cohen's face flushed with a sickly redness; he licked his cracked lips and, excitedly, said, "Don't worry, boss! I guarantee that tomorrow morning, the bathrooms on Wall Street will be buzzing about whether Lehman Brothers should be bottom‑fished!"

"Qianru."

"Mr. Lu."

"You and the legal team, prepare two documents. One is the acquisition agreement for Morgan Stanley Asia‑Pacific Division's non‑performing asset business. The other is a lawsuit against Li Zexun and Zoe Shason for malicious market manipulation and spreading false information."

Lu Qingshan's voice turned cold.

When they get liquidated, I will make them unable to even scrape together money for a lawsuit.

Zhang Qianru nodded vigorously, excitement flashing in her eyes.

This is the legal war she has dreamed of!

Each order, clear, decisive, and interlinked.

The madman who just dared to wrestle with the capital Emperor has now reverted to the commander who strategizes flawlessly.

The whole apartment, like a war machine, revved up at full speed again.

Lu Qingshan walked back to the massive floor‑to‑ceiling window and stared at the dazzling New York nightscape.

He knows that on the other side of the city, Li Zexun and Zoe Shason may be raising champagne, mocking him, an Eastern fool, for daring to take on Morgan Stanley head‑on.

They are smugly calculating how, after they and Wall Street are both crippled, they will enter the field to reap the greatest spoils at the smallest cost.

Lu Qingshan lifted the champagne glass on the table, now completely flat, and raised it toward the night outside the window.

"Drink."

"Drink as much as you like."

"Because this will be the most expensive glass of champagne you have ever drunk in this life."

He set down the glass, turned, and gave Ye Ning, who was busy and tense, the final, and most crucial, order.

"Ye Ning, connect to Minister Wang."