Chapter 435: This Isn

When that figure was spoken by Li Junjie, the air on the top floor of Saint Remo Apartment seemed to be sucked into a vacuum, and even the dust stopped drifting.

Lu Qingjun felt not that his heart missed a beat, but that it stopped outright. He stared blankly at his older brother, then at the string of numbers on the screen that made his eyes glaze, and the only thought in his mind was: if we exchanged this money for brand‑new one‑hundred‑dollar bills linked end to end, could we lay them from Earth to the Moon and make a few round trips? In this life—no, in ten lifetimes—we'd never be able to spend it all!

David Cohen had just slumped back into his chair, and upon hearing the figure, he sprang up as if a spring had been installed in him. He didn't erupt in ecstatic shouting as before; instead he stared fixedly at the screen, palms pressed together against his chest, his face bearing an almost reverent, pilgrim‑like expression as if gazing at a miracle.

"Three… three hundred billion dollars of Ammunition Depot…" he muttered, his voice as light as a dream, while a wild fire burned in his eyes. "Boss, can we now buy the United States? From Alaska's glaciers to Florida's beaches, package it all up, and then declare this the Xinghan United States of America!"

No one paid any attention to his ramblings.

Li Junjie and Zhang Qianru's breathing grew heavy; although they had long been mentally prepared, when this final, precisely calculated figure was laid before them, the sheer violent impact of the numbers still made them dizzy, as if the whole world were spinning.

That sum already exceeds the annual GDP of more than ninety percent of the world's countries.

And this is only the result of the first phase of the Titanic Plan.

Yet, as the architect of this fortune, Lu Qingshan's face showed not a single ripple. He simply stared calmly at the email from Morgan Stanley, as if reading a newspaper unrelated to him.

"Boss…" Li Junjie swallowed hard, forcing himself out of the shock brought by that astronomical string of numbers, "How should we reply to John Mc's email?"

"Hasn't Ye Ning already replied?" Lu Qingshan retorted.

"But… but, what's the point of meeting? Do we really have to engage in empty talk with him over that shell? What if he has other traps…" Li Junjie still felt uneasy.

Lu Qingshan smiled, walked over to Zhang Qianru, and picked up the anti‑acquisition agreement she had just drafted at his request.

"Who said I'm going to 'talk' with him?"

He handed the agreement to Zhang Qianru, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"I'm only going to inform him how to hand over the inheritance cleanly and completely into our hands."

…

The meeting place was set at the Waldorf Hotel.

It was still the top‑floor presidential suite that Li Zexun and Zoe Shason had once used to celebrate, but now all the furniture and carpet had been replaced with new ones, and the air was filled with a steady scent of fine wood and leather rather than the despondent decay of losers.

John Mc, the newly appointed head of Morgan Stanley and a veteran shark of Wall Street, sat upright with a dignified posture. Behind him stood Morgan Stanley's top legal advisers and Merger and Acquisition experts, each in a suit, expression solemn, like a squad of elite soldiers ready for battle, exuding a powerful aura.

When the suite's door was pushed open and Lu Qingshan entered with Zhang Qianru and Ye Ning, John Mc rose promptly.

He forced out what he thought was a friendly, commanding smile and extended his hand: "Mr. Lu, welcome. Your feat today is worthy of being recorded in Wall Street's annals."

Lu Qingshan did not extend his hand, nor did his gaze linger on the offered hand for a second; he simply gave a faint nod and walked straight to the main seat to sit down. Zhang Qianru and Ye Ning positioned themselves left and right, like two cold statues standing behind him.

This almost humiliating rudeness made John Mc's hand hanging in mid‑air look terribly awkward, and the faces of the Wall Street elites behind him flashed with a hint of offended anger.

"Mr. Lu seems busy, so let's get straight to the point." John Mc calmly withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened, sat down again, regaining the composure befitting a financial titan, "Regarding the cooperation proposal we presented, may I ask how Mr. Lu is considering it?"

He appeared to look at Lu Qingshan with anticipation, his eyes hiding a barely perceptible cunning and a sense of assured victory.

In his view, Lu Qingshan had only two options.

Either reject this 'gift', in which case John Mc would have achieved the purpose of disgusting the other party and could claim in public opinion that he extended goodwill, which the other side failed to appreciate.

Or accept this 'gift', which would be even better; Lu Qingshan and his Xinghan Capital would be dragged into countless lawsuits and debts, sinking into a mire and never again be able to stir up trouble on Wall Street.

It is a Yang Plan—a scheme he believes flawless, capable of trapping that Eastern dragon solidly.

However, Lu Qingshan's next move turned all his calculations into vapor.

Lu Qingshan said nothing, but gave Zhang Qianru a signal with his eyes.

Understanding, Zhang Qianru stepped forward and placed the document from her hand onto the table before John Mc, gently yet with the weight of a thousand pounds.

John Mc was momentarily stunned; he glanced at the cover, which read 'Agreement on the Reception of Morgan Stanley Asia‑Pacific Division Business'.

He frowned, picked up the document, and opened to the first page.

After just a glance, his pupils contracted sharply, as if bitten by a venomous snake.

The first clause of the agreement, written in bold black type, each character like a heavy hammer:

"Morgan Stanley must commit, before transferring its Asia‑Pacific Division business, to strip the division of all existing debts, legal disputes, and contingent liabilities accrued since its inception. The assignee, Xinghan Group, shall receive only a legally and financially 'clean entity.'"

John Mc's breathing halted instantly.

He jerked his head up, staring rigidly at Lu Qingshan; the face that had just worn a composed smile was now twisted by extreme shock, his muscles twitching unnaturally.

"Mr. Lu, what does this mean?!"

The chief legal counsel behind him rushed forward, snatched the document, glanced at it, and immediately shouted in a breathless, furious tone: "This is impossible! This isn't a reception; it's a robbery! It's outright plunder!"

Lu Qingshan seemed oblivious to their horrified expressions; he lifted the glass of clear water on the table and drank a sip deliberately.

"Don't rush, Mr. John." He set down the cup, his voice calm as if discussing the weather, yet with a biting chill, "The agreement has more clauses; you can keep reading, perhaps there's a surprise."

John Mc suppressed the near‑explosive fury in his chest, and with trembling hands turned to the second page.

Clause Two of the agreement:

"All current employees of Morgan Stanley Asia‑Pacific Division, including but not limited to executives, traders, analysts, administrative and logistics staff, shall have their Employment Contracts unconditionally assumed by Xinghan Group. Morgan Stanley must ensure that, prior to the settlement date, the turnover rate of the core team does not exceed five percent."

"Bang!"

John Mc could no longer contain himself; he slammed his palm hard onto the expensive mahogany table, producing a deafening thud.

"Absurd! Shameless!" he pointed at Lu Qingshan, trembling with rage, veins bulging on his neck, "What you want isn't some bad‑asset business! You want the core enterprise that Morgan Stanley has built in Asia over decades! This is looting a fire!"

"Mr. John, watch your wording." Lu Qingshan's voice cooled, his gaze like that of someone looking at a petulant child, "I'm merely helping you deal with trash. You dump an entire house of garbage on me; you should also hand over the warehouse that stores the trash and the people who watch the warehouse, right? Otherwise, how can I sweep the floor clean for you?"

"You!"

John Mc was choked by the words, his face turning bright red, unable to utter a single word.

He finally realized that he was not facing a brute from the East, but a prehistoric beast greedier, more cunning, and more ferocious than all the sharks of Wall Street combined!

The trap he had meticulously designed, in front of his opponent, was like a three‑year‑old's toy. The other side not only saw through it at a glance but also turned the tables, stuffing him and the entire Morgan Stanley Asia‑Pacific Division into the very snare he had dug himself.

"Mr. Lu, our board will absolutely not agree to your terms! This is an insult to Morgan Stanley!" the chief legal counsel behind John Mc shouted angrily, trying to salvage a shred of face.

"Is that so?" Lu Qingshan leaned back in his chair, watching him leisurely, a mocking smile curling his lips, "Then you can go back and discuss it. But I must warn you, my patience is limited, and Wall Street seems rather unsettled lately."

He extended three fingers, gently waving them in the air.

"Bear Stearns, Merrill Lynch, AIG."

With each name he uttered, John Mc and his team's complexion grew paler, because they knew better than anyone that inside those three firms lay bombs more terrifying than Lehman Brothers.

"Bear Stearns more than thirty‑fold Leverage, Merrill Lynch's several hundred‑billion CDOs that are almost worthless, and AIG… that astronomical amount of CDS exposure." Lu Qingshan's voice was low but every word cut to the heart, "These companies' names are all on my 'Titanic Plan' list. Of course, if you reject my 'goodwill'," he emphasized the word "goodwill," "I wouldn't mind adding Morgan Stanley's name to the very top of the list."

"My account has plenty of cash ammunition; I think using it to Short Selling a stock whose capital adequacy ratio is precariously low like yours should be more than enough."

"Boom!"

These words, like the final nail, hammered hard into John Mc's coffin.

He collapsed completely onto his chair, eyes vacant, muttering to himself.

"Ammunition… abundant…"

The elite lawyers and experts behind him all looked as if their spines had been pulled out, each with a death‑gray face.

They knew Lu Qingshan was not lying.

They also knew the war had already ended.

Rather than let the entire Morgan Stanley group become the next Lehman Brothers, better… a hero severs his own wrist.

A long while.

John Mc lifted his head; his face showed no emotion, only a dead‑silent gray defeat.

He looked at Lu Qingshan, his voice hoarse as if forced out of his throat.

"I… agree."

He picked up the agreement on the table, which to him looked just like a Contract of Selling Oneself.

"But I need time to persuade the board of directors."

"Sure." Lu Qingshan stood up, smoothing his own cuffs.

He walked to John Mc's side, leaned down, and in a voice only the two of them could hear, whispered softly.

"Tell your board, this is not a negotiation."

"This is… Defeat Compensation."

After speaking, he no longer gave the other a glance, and with Zhang Qianru and Ye Ning, turned and walked straight out of the suite.

Only a room full of Morgan Stanley executives remained, and a shattered, bygone era of Wall Street.