Chapter 448: Freemasons Invite Me to a Meeting? Pay the Entrance Fee First!

That electronic invitation from Geneva, like a gilt invitation from hell, lay quietly on Ye Ning's screen.

The screen's light illuminated every frozen face in the apartment.

David Cohen's body, like a sea cucumber stripped of all its bones, slipped soft and limp onto the expensive Persian rug.

Li Junjie and Zhang Qianru, the two young men who had raised towering waves on Wall Street and never flinched before the U. S. Treasury Secretary or the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, now seemed like two weathered statues, bodies rigid, blood apparently frozen within their veins.

Freemasons.

Rothschild.

These two names transcend nations and regimes, lingering as centuries‑old shadows deep in Western history.

They do not stand for wealth; they represent the power that dictates the rules of wealth itself!

"Brother… " Lu Qingjun felt his teeth tremble, a cold rush shooting from his tailbone to his forehead, "These… these people… aren't they from the legends? How did they know you were going to Switzerland?"

Yet, amid this oppression thick enough to freeze time, Lu Qingshan suddenly laughed.

He lifted the half‑cooled cup of black tea, took another sip, then shook his head.

"Legends?"

He set the teacup down; the crisp clink sounded like a tiny hammer shattering the room's stagnant air.

"It's only a bunch of ancient vampires hiding behind the scenes, surviving for centuries by sucking the world's lifeblood."

He moved behind Ye Ning, gazing at the elegantly worded yet irresistibly compelling invitation on the screen; his eyes showed not fear but a hint of amusement.

"They finally couldn't sit still."

The words struck like a bolt of thunder, snapping everyone present to attention.

Li Junjie jerked his head up, and a spark of light began to reconvene in his eyes, which had been seized by Fear.

"Boss, you mean… they're scared?"

"Scared?" Lu Qingshan scoffed, "They're not scared; they're fed up."

He extended a finger and lightly tapped the phrase "Redefine the World Financial New Order" on the screen.

"In their script, the world should be like a precise clock, running second by second according to the rules they set. Every boom, every bust, every war, every peace should be a puppet string in their hands."

"And we are the lunatic who bursts into the watch shop, swinging a sledgehammer and smashing everything."

"Earlier in London, Jacob Rothschild saw our strength; now in New York, Lehman has collapsed, Bear Stearns is on the brink, Morgan Stanley has been stripped of a layer, Iron Lady is in the hospital, Bao Ersen has become my mouthpiece… all of this has slipped from their control."

"So they're impatient now."

Lu Qingshan turned, looking at his still‑shaken team.

"This invitation isn't asking for my opinion, nor is it consulting me."

"They're telling me the game is over. Now, back to the table, listen as they re‑announce the rules."

Zhang Qianru's complexion remained pale; she clutched the table, her voice trembling, "So… what do we do? Go, or not go? If we go, we walk into a trap. If we don't, we openly oppose them…"

"Of course we go," Lu Qingshan replied resolutely.

He stepped to David Cohen's side and nudged him with his toe.

"Get up, stop lying down; the Air Ticket to Geneva isn't meant for you to sit on while lying."

David jolted, springing up from the floor, his face still glazed with bewilderment.

"Go? Boss! Are we really going? That's Rothschild! It's the Freemasons! They'll devour us alive, leaving not even a bone fragment!"

"Who said I'm going to be skinned by them?" Lu Qingshan glanced at him.

"Ye Ning."

"Boss, I'm here." Ye Ning shot up straight, awaiting the command that would decide the world's fate.

"Reply to them."

Lu Qingshan's voice was low, yet carried a swagger that seemed to shake the whole room.

"Tell them Mr. Lu has accepted their invitation."

"But the meeting's agenda needs to be changed."

"It's not 'Redefine the World Financial New Order'."

Lu Qingshan looked at Ye Ning and said, word for word:

"It is 'From Xinghan Capital to the Freemasons and the Rothschild family's European Executive Committee, reporting the concrete outline of the World Financial New Order.'"

"Boom—!"

The words, like a supernova detonating in a sealed chamber, instantly shattered the mental defenses Li Junjie and Zhang Qianru had just erected.

They opened their mouths but could not utter a sound.

This was no longer arrogance.

It was a naked, no‑margin coup declaration aimed at the old world's rulers!

They invite you to attend a lecture, and you retort, "I'm here to give you a class!"

"Also," Lu Qingshan seemed to think that wasn't enough and added, "Tell them Mr. Lu's time is precious."

"If you want to attend the lecture, you may."

"But you must first pay the 'lecture fee'."

"Lecture… fee?" Ye Ning felt her tongue knot up.

In her life she had handled countless deals, from millions to hundreds of billions, yet had never heard of a meeting of this caliber requiring the other side to pay.

"Exactly." Lu Qingshan walked to the window, gazing at the steel jungle outside that symbolized the Old Order.

"Tell them to take one percent of the gold belonging to their family from the Swiss Bank."

"Deposit it into the new account we opened at the Swiss Bank."

"Consider it an advance ticket payment for establishing the new order…"

He turned back, looking at Ye Ning, now completely petrified.

Send the original words.

Ye Ning's fingertip hovered over the keyboard for a full ten seconds.

Her chest heaved violently; ultimately, the top trader's absolute obedience to orders overcame the Fear born of human instinct.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then typed in, word by word, the passage that would drive the entire European aristocracy into a frenzy.

Sent.

The entire apartment fell into an eerie silence.

Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for the inevitable thunderous wrath of the old world's gods.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Five minutes.

That email sank like a stone, receiving no reply.

"We're done…… they've been angered…… they're surely gathering all their strength, preparing to wipe us off the face of the Earth……" David Cohen clutched his head, crouched on the ground, trembling.

Li Junjie and Zhang Qianru also clenched their fists nervously, palms slick with cold sweat.

This unknown wait was more agonizing than direct conflict.

And just then.

The red encrypted phone from Downing Street, which had just fallen silent, rang out sharply once again.

Ye Ning started, almost instinctively answering and switching on speakerphone.

From the other end came the Vice Prime Minister James Reid's voice, choked with tears, on the verge of collapse.

"Lu…… Lu consultant! My God! What on earth are you doing?!"

"Just now, the Bank of England's Gold Reserve vault had ten tons of gold withdrawn!"

"The withdrawer… the withdrawer presented Her Majesty the Queen's highest authorization order!"

"They said…… they said this was your order, to pay…… pay the travel expenses for the meeting in Geneva……"