Chapter 488: Smash the Market? I

Central, below the Xinghan Building.

Normally this is where financial elites sip coffee while discussing the Hang Seng Index, but today it has turned into a vegetable market. Angry investors have blocked the doors completely, waving stock certificates that have plummeted beyond belief; some even carry paint buckets, shouting that they want the "cheater Lu Qingshan" to come out and repay the money.

"Did you hear? Lu Qingshan was detained by a warlord in Africa!"

"Detained? No, he ran off with all the money! He used our funds to fill that bottomless pit!"

Rumors spread like a winged plague, covering Hong Kong within half a day. Several listed companies under the Xinghan Group saw their stock prices plunge like kites with cut strings, falling straight down.

The Peninsula Hotel, presidential suite.

Jonathan Rothschild stood by the floor‑to‑ceiling window, swirling a glass of Bordeaux red wine, watching the chaotic Central in the distance, a victor's smile curled at his mouth.

"This is the consequence of opposing the Rothschild family," Jonathan sipped his wine, said to the assistant behind him, "Notify the major banks; they can prepare to cast the net. I will acquire all of Xinghan Group's Quality Assets at a price of one pound each."

The assistant bowed his head, "Your brilliance, sir. That Lu Qingshan is probably still rolling in an African mud pit right now."

As the words fell, a massive roar suddenly came from outside the window.

Jonathan frowned and looked up.

A heavy helicopter bearing the Xinghan logo, ignoring air traffic control, swooped like a fierce giant eagle, skimming low over Victoria Harbor; the massive slipstream carved a white streak across the sea, heading straight for the rooftop of the Xinghan Building.

A few minutes later, the main entrance of the Xinghan Building.

The crowd, which had been shoving, suddenly fell silent. The building's glass doors slid open to both sides, and a line of black‑clad security rushed out, forcefully carving a passage.

Lu Qingshan stepped out.

He wasn't wearing a suit, but the Zhongshan suit he brought back from Africa, his feet even still stained with some unfixed red earth. Yet as he took that step, his aura instantly subdued the hundreds of rioting people.

No fatigue, no panic. He looked as if he had just taken a stroll in the park downstairs.

Flashing lights flickered wildly, and the sound of shutters filled the air.

"Mr. Lu! Rumor has it that Xinghan's cash‑flow chain has broken; is it true?"

"Mr. Lu! Did you suffer an investment Waterloo in Africa?"

Lu Qingshan ignored the microphone shoved to his face, simply raised his hand to glance at his watch, then faced the camera and calmly said, "Stop the noise. In half an hour, the large conference hall on the second floor, I'll hold a meeting. If you want to know what's happening, come up."

After speaking, he turned and entered the building, leaving a dashing silhouette.

Half an hour later, the banquet hall was packed with people.

Not only reporters, but representatives from major banks such as HSBC and Standard Chartered were present, and even the Imperial Governor's Office sent observers. Everyone wanted to see how this man who turned Hong Kong upside down would finish.

Lu Qingshan sat on the podium, with no speech script in front of him, only a cup of tea.

"Someone just asked me whether I got trapped in Africa," Lu Qingshan took a sip of tea, scanned the room, "Indeed, I am trapped."

A murmur rose from the audience. The HSBC representative's face changed, and he was about to stand up and leave.

"It's trapped too deep to pull out," Lu Qingshan sighed, clapped his hands.

The main doors opened, and a dozen burly men carried six heavy iron boxes inside, "Clang—" a few times as they slammed them in front of the podium. The sound was dull and heavy, making the floor tremble.

Lu Qingshan stepped down from the stage, approached the first box, and kicked open its latch, lifting the lid.

"Splash—"

A flash of gold.

The dazzling gold light instantly illuminated the entire banquet hall.

It wasn't gold bars, but unrefined coarse gold ore and massive chunks of natural dog‑head gold, haphazardly piled in the box like a heap of worthless junk.

The whole venue fell deathly silent.

Lu Qingshan casually grabbed a larger piece of dog‑head gold, which Ding Wenjiang had found in an Angolan river valley, about half a brick in size.

"Some say I'm playing in the mud in Africa," Lu Qingshan tossed the gold nugget to the front‑row reporter who had shouted the loudest, "Now, see if this mud can knock you out."

The reporter fumbled to catch it; the heavy weight nearly made him kneel. It was real!

"This is only 'mud'," Lu Qingshan walked to the second box and opened it.

Inside was a box full of raw diamonds. Uncut and unpolished, they resembled a pile of transparent glass shards.

"These are local specialties sent by African friends, said to be for my kids to play with marbles," Lu Qingshan grabbed a handful, scattering them on the table like rice fed to chickens, "The quality is average; each is only a few hundred carats at most."

The audience's breathing grew heavy. Several jewelry shop owners' eyes bulged; these were top‑grade pink diamond roughs!

"As for the money..." Lu Qingshan walked to the back, produced a document—a petroleum supply agreement personally signed by Saleman—and a Swiss Bank promissory‑note stub.

"The Saudi Royal Family's first advance, twenty billion US dollars," Lu Qingshan tossed the copy of the document into the air; the papers fluttered down like snowflakes, "This is only a deposit. For the next five years, that amount each year."

He walked back onto the stage, hands braced on the table, staring at the dazed bankers and short‑selling institution representatives below.

"Now, who still thinks Xinghan Group is broke? Our global deployment will be detailed in upcoming public reports."

No one spoke.

"Since nobody's speaking, I'll make an announcement," Lu Qingshan raised a finger, "Effective today, Xinghan Group will issue 'African Development Bonds' backed by Angola's mineral revenues for the next fifty years. The annual interest rate is two points higher than banks. Most importantly—"

He paused, flashing a white smile, "These bonds can be exchanged at any time for equivalent gold."

Boom!

If the earlier display was merely a show of wealth, that sentence is a nuclear bomb.

In this era of rampant fiat currency, a bond directly pegged to gold is hard currency among hard currencies!

Inside the Peninsula Hotel.

Jonathan's wine glass went "clack" onto the carpet, spilling red wine onto his trouser leg, yet he felt nothing.

On the TV screen, the Hang Seng Index chart, originally a downward death line, suddenly shot up straight as a rod the instant Lu Qingshan uttered "exchange gold".

A 90‑degree vertical surge!

"Crazy… crazy…" Jonathan trembled, grabbed the phone, dialing his Wall Street ally, "Lawrence! Quickly! Hold the line! We must keep shorting! Lu Qingshan is just bluffing!"

On the other end, Lawrence of the New York Morgan family sounded unusually upbeat, even with a hint of schadenfreude: "Oh, dear Jonathan. My apologies, Mr. Wilson just called. After careful consideration, we find Xinghan Group's gold bonds highly investable. So… we went long on the reverse."

"What?!" Jonathan roared, "We are allies! We signed an agreement!"

"Business is business," Lawrence chuckled, "By the way, over in London, Li Zhi'an just on behalf of Xinghan Group donated a 500‑carat diamond rough to the United Kingdom Royal Family. I hear Her Majesty the Queen is delighted and is about to award Sir Lu a knighthood. Jonathan, you've lost. Run now, or you'll be left with nothing at all."

The phone hung up.

Qiao Nason slumped onto the sofa. He watched the dashing Eastern man on the TV and finally understood one thing.

He wasn't there to rescue the market; he was there to smash the venue. He used the most primitive, most violent tangible assets to directly crush those financial vampires who play number games.

In the exchange, the bears were completely blown apart.

The institutions that previously sold Xinghan Group's shares wildly are now buying back to close positions like rabid dogs. The stock price jumps up every second, leaving no room to breathe.

Before the press conference ended, Xinghan Group's market cap not only recovered but doubled.

Lu Qingshan looked at the frenzied crowd below and unleashed his final trump card.

"To facilitate everyone's investment, Xinghan Group will partner with Huaxia National Bank to establish the 'Asia‑Africa‑Latin America Resource Development Bank' on Hong Kong Island," Lu Qingshan's voice rang through the venue, "This bank is dedicated to settling oil trade in the Middle East and mineral trade in Africa, as well as supporting the healthy development of the future human community of shared destiny."

He added ominously, "Of course, we support settlement in multiple currencies. Not only US Dollar, but also—Huaxia currency."

Only those truly in the know understand the weight of this sentence. It drills a hole in the iron barrel of US Dollar hegemony.

After the meeting, Lu Qingshan's private phone rang.

It was Chen Lao.

"Hello, Chen Lao," Lu Qingshan answered, his tone respectful.

"You kid, you made quite a racket," Chen Lao's voice was neutral but carried a trace of satisfaction, "A few veteran senior officials were just watching the media's text live feed. Especially that moment when you smashed someone with a gold bar, it was gratifying to watch."

"I couldn't hold back for a moment; I made you look foolish."

"Alright, don't take advantage and then act innocent." Chen Lao paused, his tone turning serious. "The central bank is already prepared. Your resource bank will have state shareholding. Remember, tread carefully; don't push those Western folks too hard—a cornered dog will even jump over walls."

"Understood. I'm well‑versed in the art of boiling a frog in warm water."

He hung up, and Wang Yuyun strode in high‑heeled, her face brimming with uncontainable excitement.

"Boss, Qiao Nason fled. Just now a report came from the airport; he bought an Air Ticket for the latest flight to London and didn't even take his luggage."

"He ran fast," Lu Qingshan adjusted his collar. "Anything else?"

"Two matters," Wang Yuyun opened her notebook. "First, the London side sent an official invitation; the United Kingdom royal family wishes to have you attend next week's royal banquet, saying they want to discuss African mining cooperation."

"Second..." Wang Yuyun's expression grew slightly odd, "The Soviet Union reached out to us via secret channels. They say the past misunderstandings are resolved. They are very interested in the modified 'agricultural tractor' we have, and want to know if we can share the technical parameters, or… discuss the 'ransom' for the captured consultants. They are willing to trade heavy industrial equipment for it."

Lu Qingshan walked to the floor‑to‑ceiling window, gazed at the dazzling lights of Victoria Harbor outside, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

This is reality.

When you are weak, they are jackals; when you are strong, you become their guest.

"Tell the British that I'm busy; cancel the banquet. If they want to discuss cooperation, have them send the Prime Minister to Hong Kong Island and line up according to our rules."

Lu Qingshan turned, his gaze like a blade.

"As for the Soviets… tell them, if they want people, they can have them. Trade us the schematics of the Su‑27. Lose a single screw, and I'll let their consultants plant potatoes in Africa for a generation."