Chapter 455: A hundred years of blood debt—tonight we settle principal and interest together!

Inside the moving Bentley, it was so quiet one could hear one's own heartbeat.

Outside the window, the sunset over Lake Geneva melted like gold, the lake and mountain scenery breathtakingly beautiful; inside the car, however, it felt like deep winter in Siberia.

Jonathan Rothschild sat opposite Lu Qingshan, the aristocratic smile he had maintained for half a century finally showing a crack. The muscles at the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably, his hands resting on his knees, fingers interlaced, clenched until the joints turned white.

He wanted to speak, to use the three-hundred-year-old dignity inherited by the Rothschild family to question this clueless Easterner before him.

He didn't dare.

He had a premonition that the moment he spoke, he would face even more utter humiliation.

Lu Qingshan broke the silence. He didn't look at Jonathan, merely gazing at the endless lake outside the window, his voice soft, as if talking to himself.

"The water here is deep and also pure."

Jonathan's eyelid twitched violently.

"Unlike New York, where trash is everywhere. This place is perfect for burying the unclean relics of the past forever." Lu Qingshan turned his head, his gaze falling on Jonathan's face, that gaze calm and waveless, "What do you say? Mr. Jonathan."

Jonathan felt as if an icy hand had closed around his throat.

He understood.

This was a response to the threat made by the "Crow" earlier.

In a way that was more elegant, yet also more bloody.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word, only managing a grin uglier than a sob.

At that moment, Ye Ning's phone emitted an extremely faint vibration.

She glanced at it, then lifted her head and gave Lu Qingshan a slight nod.

"Boss, the appetizer has been served on each guest's plate."

Almost at the same instant, the specially made pager in Jonathan's pocket, claimed to be untappable, let out a piercing shriek!

He jerked it out, and on the screen, emergency messages from all over Europe surged in like an avalanche.

"Jonathan! Are you crazy?!" — Chairman of the German Bank's Board.

"What is this document? Give me an explanation right away!" — President of the French Bank.

"You've drawn the devil to Geneva! The Rothschilds must answer for this!" — Head of the Fiat Agnelli Family.

"Lu Qingshan!"

Jonathan finally lost control, he sprang to his feet, his head slamming hard into the car roof with a dull thud. He felt nothing, merely staring fixedly at Lu Qingshan, his blue eyes bloodshot.

"What the hell do you want?! You're declaring war on all of Europe!"

"War?" Lu Qingshan smiled, leaning back leisurely into the soft leather seat, looking at Jonathan with the eyes of one observing a three-year-old child. "Mr. Jonathan, I think you've got it wrong. The war was over a hundred years ago; you've already finished fighting it."

"Now it's just a matter of settling the defeated side's reparations."

The Bentley slowly drove past an ancient stone bridge, and a castle lit up like a monstrous beast crouched by the lakeshore came into view.

The car stopped.

An elderly butler wearing white gloves, his expression solemn, silently opened the car door.

A breath of air mixed with the scent of burning pine from the fireplace and the unique, slightly moldy aroma of ancient wealth blew over them.

Lu Qingshan stepped out of the car.

In the courtyard before the castle, people filled the space.

A group of impeccably dressed elders with white hair, each either holding a glass of wine or leaning on a cane. They were directors of the German Bank, shareholders of the French Bank, the hidden family behind the Fiat Group, and the true Shadow Council that controls Europe's energy, minerals, and military lifelines.

Among the crowd, a capable figure went unnoticed—it was Li Zhi'an, who had arrived early. Seeing Lu Qingshan alight from the car, he merely bowed his head slightly before slipping back into the crowd.

At this moment, these European controllers neither conversed nor drank.

Everyone stood like statues nailed to the ground, their eyes mixed with shock, anger, and a trace of undisguisable fear, fixed tightly on the young Eastern man who had just stepped out of the car.

They had all received that "appetizer."

That document was enough to nail all of their families to the pillar of historical shame, forever unable to rise.

A tall old man with a thick white beard and sharp eyes stepped out of the crowd. He held in his hand the latest model electronic reader, its screen showing the first page of that document.

"Young man." His voice hoarse, like two rusted iron plates scraping together, "You bring the devil's contract into God's backyard."

Lu Qingshan didn't even glance at him.

He strode straight forward, toward the massive oak door of the castle, large enough for a carriage to pass through.

The elders representing Europe's highest power unconsciously made way for him, clearing a path.

The entire courtyard fell silent, not even a sparrow's chirp.

Only Lu Qingshan's steady footsteps and the clear echo of his leather shoes on the ancient stone slabs could be heard.

Just as he was about to step through the gate, he suddenly stopped and turned back.

His gaze did not fall on the white-bearded old man, but swept past everyone to land on Jonathan Rothschild, who had just stepped out of the car, his face deathly pale.

"Mr. Jonathan."

Jonathan's body jerked.

"Tell your friends." Lu Qingshan's voice, though not loud, carried clearly to every ear in the courtyard: "I came here not to reminisce about history with you."

He scanned the circle, looking at those faces twisted by anger and humiliation, then slowly raised a finger.

"I give you only one night."

"Work out a plan, satisfactory to me, for repaying the first installment of principal and interest."

Having said that, he turned and instructed Ye Ning beside him: "Go check the kitchen, tonight's menu. I don't want to eat the same thing as those who owe a debt of over a hundred years and refuse to pay."

Ye Ning understood at a glance; she first swept her gaze over the crowd, making brief eye contact with Li Zhi'an, then turned to the already-petrified old butler beside her, speaking without emotion: "May I ask where the kitchen is? We need to prepare a separate dinner for Mr. Lu."

The old butler moved his lips, but made no sound.

Ye Ning continued: "The menu requirements are simple—none of the ingredients may come from the territories of any guest present tonight, nor have any connection to their industries."

She paused, then added a sentence.

"Besides, we brought our own chef. Please guide that Mr. Li, lead our chef team to the kitchen to have a look, don't dirty your place."

Lu Qingshan, without turning his head, walked into that splendid and gold-lit darkness belonging to the old world.

Only left in the courtyard was a group, shivering in the cold wind of the Alps, Europe's "gods".