Chapter 461: Oil Money? Charged to the Rothschild Account—He Volunteered!

The ancient castle's gate opened silently behind Lu Qingshan, and closed silently again.

The cold wind from the Alps outside the gate seemed even more biting than when they arrived.

In the courtyard, none of the European "gods" dared to see them off. They were like a flock of peacocks stripped of feathers, huddled in the golden‑and‑brilliant cage, licking their blood‑stained wounds and debating how to offer their own flesh and blood.

Jonathan Rothschild stood at the doorway; he no longer bowed, just stood silently, watching Lu Qingshan's party walk toward the grim black convoy.

His face bore no more tear tracks nor despair, only a dead silence, like the ancient city of Pompeii buried under volcanic ash, stripped of all life.

The vehicle door opened, Li Zhi'an escorted Lu Qingshan inside, and stayed behind to handle the aftermath before returning to London.

Ye Ning, Li Junjie and Zhang Qianru nodded farewell to Li Zhi'an and promptly followed Lu Qingshan onto the vehicle.

As they took their seats, their movements were stiff, as if they had just endured a grueling battle that drained all their spirit, leaving their souls half‑emptied.

The convoy set off, silently departing the ancient castle that had witnessed the end of an era.

Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was so oppressive it made breathing difficult.

Li Junjie watched Geneva's nightscape flash backward through the window, feeling as if he were in an absurd dream. Hours earlier they had been lambs invited to a banquet; hours later they became the executioners rewriting the world's rules.

He couldn't help glancing at the boss's profile. The boss had his eyes closed, his face showing no expression, as if he had merely taken a stroll by a lake, not trampled the Old Aristocracy of all Europe beneath his feet.

"Boss," Li Junjie's Adam's apple rolled slightly, his voice a bit hoarse, "uh… Piraeus Port, over at the Xi La government… could there be trouble? After all, it's a strategic port of a sovereign nation…"

Lu Qingshan kept his eyes closed, merely uttering two words lightly.

"It will change."

"Change?" Li Junjie was startled, not comprehending.

Lu Qingshan finally opened his eyes; in those deep orbs there was no ripple. He calmly explained, "Tomorrow morning, the Xi La prime minister will, for 'health reasons,' tearfully announce his resignation on television." His voice was flat, yet it made Li Junjie's hair stand on end, "The newly appointed interim prime minister is the leader of the country's largest opposition party. I've heard his campaign funds have been tight. Now, they're not."

Li Junjie instantly shut his mouth, a dense layer of cold sweat seeping down his back.

He understood. The boss never wanted just money and assets. He wanted total control from top to bottom, from economics to politics, leaving no blind spot! This was no longer business; it was a civilization‑level game, and the boss was the sole player!

Zhang Qianru sat beside them, still clutching the freshly drafted Arbitration Court Charter proposal. Her mind raced, pondering legal bases, jurisdictional conflicts, and enforcement mechanisms among other complex issues.

Yet hearing the boss's words, she suddenly thought all her deliberations were absurd.

Before absolute power, so‑called law is merely a paper‑written meeting minute of the victors.

"Zhang Qianru," Lu Qingshan suddenly spoke.

"Here, Mr. Lu!" Zhang Qianru sat up sharply, like a student called on by the teacher.

"For the court's judges, besides the descendants of legal scholars, I need another group of people."

"What kind of people?"

"Historians," Lu Qingshan said, his gaze deep, "especially those who study colonial history and modern world history. I want them to turn every piece of evidence in that judgment into detailed scholarly monographs, complete with all chains of proof, and publish them worldwide."

"I want their descendants, in history textbooks for the next few hundred years, to see clearly how their ancestors made their fortunes."

"I will have their crimes forever engraved on humanity's civilizational stone monument, for the whole world to visit!"

Zhang Qianru's body trembled slightly; she felt she was not drafting a legal document but forging a guillotine that judges history. "Eradicating the heart—that is true eradication of the heart!"

The convoy moved unimpeded and soon reached the restricted zone of Geneva Airport.

The all‑black SR-71 Blackbird, like a coiled monster, sat silently at the runway's end, its Stars and Stripes badge glaring under the searchlight.

Ace pilot Green Major and Davis Colonel stood beneath the boarding ladder.

Seeing the convoy arrive, the two battle‑hardened American soldiers instinctively tensed, standing upright like two spears.

The vehicle door opened.

When Lu Qingshan stepped out of the vehicle, Green Major's pupils snapped shut.

He saw that behind the Eastern man were two youths, their faces bearing an unmistakable youthful excitement and nervousness.

Yet he knew even more clearly that moments ago he had received the Pentagon's highest directive, its content so blunt it made his hair stand on end: unconditionally fulfill every demand of Mr. Lu, whose will equals that of the supreme commander. Green Major could not imagine what earth‑shattering events had unfolded in that distant castle to make proud America issue such a humiliating order.

Davis Colonel hurried forward, saluting Lu Qingshan with an impeccably precise American military salute.

His movement no longer carried the soldier's perfunctory arrogance of before, but a genuine reverence a subordinate feels before a supreme officer.

"Mr. Lu, the aircraft is ready and can take off at any moment."

Lu Qingshan nodded and stepped toward the boarding ladder.

Just as he was about to board, the encrypted satellite phone from the Capital City, never leaving his side, rang.

Lu Qingshan halted and answered.

"Minister Wang."

On the other end, Wang Shanghong's voice carried an unprecedented mix of shock and exhilaration. He seemed to have just finished a top‑level emergency meeting, his speech even tinged with a gasp.

"Comrade Qingshan… you… you have pierced the sky of this world."

"I merely lifted their rotten roof so they could see the real sky outside," Lu Qingshan replied coolly.

The line was silent for a few seconds, as if digesting the meaning of his words.

"Just now… the expanded meeting personally convened by the supreme commander concluded," Wang Shanghong's voice was low, yet his excitement could not be hidden, "The commander's exact words were that we spent fifty years learning how to sit at the same table with them. And you, in one night, told them who the real banker is!"

Lu Qingshan's ancient, still heart rippled ever so slightly at that moment.

"The commander asked me to tell you," Wang Shanghong's breathing quickened, "go ahead and do it! Back home, we're your strongest backing. Whatever you need, we'll give you!"

"I indeed need one thing," Lu Qingshan said.

"Speak! If you need people, we'll give people! If you need money, we'll give money!"

"I need a channel," Lu Qingshan said, gazing at the black monster nearby that symbolizes American hegemony, "a globally covering, 24‑hour nonstop broadcast, the voice of Huaxia itself."

"Minister Wang, I have a list here; the media groups on it look solid, and can be handed over to Huaxia's propaganda department to control."

On the other end, Wang Shanghong fell into another prolonged silence.

He finally understood that Lu Qingshan never wanted just money, nor assets, nor even the right to set rules.

What he wanted was the right to speak!

It is the ultimate power to define the world's "good and evil, beauty and ugliness, right and wrong"!

"I understand." After a long pause, Wang Shanghong spoke each word carefully, his voice trembling with excitement, "Comrade Qingshan, the country awaits your good news!"

The call ended.

Lu Qingshan put away the phone, turned around, and said to the three completely stunned youths behind him, "Let's go, home."

He climbed the boarding ladder, and before entering the cabin, glanced back at the Bentleys belonging to the Rothschild family parked not far away.

He saw Jonathan Rothschild still standing there, like a stone statue waiting for her husband, gazing toward this side from afar.

Their gazes briefly met in the cold night sky.

Lu Qingshan suddenly smiled.

He spoke toward Green Major below the ladder in a voice not loud but clear enough for the ace pilot to hear distinctly, even making his heart miss a beat, and uttered the final sentence.

"Green Major, deliver a message for me to Mr. Bowles and President Reagan."

Green Major straightened his posture abruptly, awaiting the decree from the New World's deity.

"Tell them the fuel cost for the return trip is charged to Rothschild's account."

Lu Qingshan paused briefly, the curve of his mouth becoming increasingly amused.

"Just say he did it voluntarily."

As the words fell, the corner of Green Major's eye twitched uncontrollably. He seemed to already envision the spectacular expressions of those big figures when the message reached the White House.