Chapter 506: The

Tokyo's night, the neon lights set the sky ablaze red.

Ginza 4-chome, a piece of land where every inch is worth gold. A modified black Toyota Century, like a silent rhinoceros, brazenly stopped at the entrance of the Kiku to Katana Private Club.

The car doors stayed closed; the two attendants in kimono, bowing and nodding, just as they tried to approach, were shoved off balance by Lin Yueqiang, who leapt from the passenger seat.

"Get out of the way," Lin Yueqiang snapped, pulling open the rear door.

Lu Qingshan stepped down in gleaming leather shoes; the black trench coat he wore rustled in the night wind. He ignored the gilded sign, merely glanced upward at the top floor, where lights glowed and the faint sound of a shamisen drifted.

At this moment, Tokyo still maintained the last veneer of respectability before the bubble burst, but its core had already rotted. The stock market kept sliding down, and more people were jumping off buildings than dancing.

Inside the top‑floor private suite, the heating was cranked up.

Li Zexun wore a bespoke JENNYA haute couture suit, his tie hanging loosely, his face flushed from drinking. Opposite him sat a bald old man, the head of the Mitsubishi‑Japan Union Conglomerate, Pan Liu Xinyu.

"Pan Liu‑san, you can rest easy," Li Zexun raised his sake cup, his tongue a bit thick, "The channels in South America, I've paved smoother than a highway. Once the funds are in place, laundering will be a matter of minutes. That Lu Qingshan? Hmph, he won some money in London, but that was luck. Now he's probably at home counting cash and nursing his wounds; even if you gave him a little courage, he wouldn't dare return to the Place to run amok."

Pan Liu Xinyu squinted, his murky eyes showing shrewdness and greed: "Li‑san, this 'New Japan' project concerns the conglomerate's century‑old foundation. As long as we can transfer the core assets out, the Japan Four Islands will be a mess, left for the Americans to clean up."

"That's natural! We…"

"Bang!"

With a deafening crash, the heavy wooden door carved with ukiyo‑e was kicked out of its frame, slamming straight onto the tatami and kicking up a layer of dust.

The geisha inside shrieked and curled into a ball.

Two bodyguards were about to draw their guns when Lin Yueqiang surged in like a phantom, delivering two hand slashes so fast they were a blur. The two‑hundred‑pound brute didn't even manage a grunt before collapsing limp on the floor.

Lu Qingshan stepped over the fallen door panel and entered.

He kept his shoes on; the dust‑caked leather shoes struck the expensive tatami with a dull thud.

Li Zexun's cup clanged onto the table, spilling sake onto his trousers. He stared wide‑eyed as if seeing a ghost: "Lu… Lu Qingshan?!"

Lu Qingshan didn't even blink, marching straight to Pan Liu Xinyu's side.

Pan Liu had weathered many storms; though his face turned pale, he forced himself to stay seated. His hands resting on his knees trembled violently.

Lu Qingshan kicked aside the low table blocking the way, shoving the trembling geisha aside, then sat cross‑legged with his legs spread wide, like a great horse with a golden blade.

He reached for the teapot on the table and poured himself a cup.

The tea was jade‑green, steaming.

Lu Qingshan took a sip, furrowed his brows, then casually splashed the cup onto the floor.

"The water's too hot; it scalded the tea," Lu Qingshan said, looking at Pan Liu, his tone as casual as small talk, "It has a metallic, bloody taste, undrinkable."

"Mr. Lu…" Pan Liu Xinyu swallowed, forcing out a thin smile, "It's a misunderstanding. We were only…"

"Misunderstanding?" Lu Qingshan pulled a stack of photos from his coat, fanning them like playing cards, and slapped one against Pan Liu's face with a "thwack".

The sharp edge of the photo grazed the old man's cheek, leaving a red mark.

Pan Liu looked down; his pupils instantly contracted to needle‑point size.

It was an aerial photograph of Brazil Mato Grosso State. High walls, power lines, watchtowers, and rows of work sheds resembling concentration camps. The image was ultra‑high resolution, even showing the Mitsubishi crest on the armed foremen's uniforms and the numb, desperate expressions on the laborers hauling heavy equipment.

"This is the first one," Lu Qingshan tossed another, "This is the bribe ledger you gave to the Brazilian Ministry of Agriculture's deputy minister—five million US Dollar, routed through Swiss Bank."

"This is the third, an Argentine arms procurement list. Heavy machine guns, mortars… Mr. Pan Liu, are you going to farm or to wage war?"

As each photo fell, Pan Liu Xinyu's mental defenses crumbled piece by piece. Cold sweat streamed down his bald head, quickly soaking the collar of his kimono.

This is not merely a scandal. It's a death sentence.

If these were exposed, the Americans would immediately use them as a pretext to freeze all overseas assets of the Japanese conglomerates, even sending troops to take over. The so‑called "golden cicada shedding its shell" would become a self‑inflicted trap.

"This… this isn't true…" Pan Liu stammered, his lips trembling.

Li Zexun, seeing the tide turn, sprang into action. He leapt up, pointing at Pan Liu and shouted, "It's you! You're the one who deceived me! You said you were only doing agricultural development! I had no idea you were building armed enclaves! Mr. Lu, I'm being framed! I'm Chinese—how could I help the devils do this!"

That counter‑attack bit back, leaving Pan Liu so enraged he nearly choked.

"Baka!" Pan Liu snapped to his feet, delivering a loud slap to Li Zexun, "You provided the channel! You said the port was absolutely safe! If you hadn't leaked, how would Lu Qingshan have known!"

"Dog bites dog, hair all over the mouth."

Lu Qingshan stared coldly at the farce, tapping his fingers twice on the tabletop.

"Enough, everyone sit down."

His voice was low, yet carried undeniable authority.

Pan Liu slumped back into his seat, Li Zexun covering his face, wanting to flee but too scared, shrinking in the corner trembling.

"Pan Liu, I don't have time to watch your drama," Lu Qingshan lit a cigarette, the flame flickering in the dim suite, "Summon those old guys from Sumitomo and Mitsui. Or, as Chairman of the Six Major Conglomerates Managers Association, can you make a decision on their behalf?"

Pan Liu wiped his sweat: "Mr. Lu, you… what do you want?"

"Two things."

Lu Qingshan raised two fingers.

"First, all the land you hold in the South American circle, and every facility on it, must be transferred to Starhan Agriculture Company. As for price, count it at one US Dollar each."

"That's impossible!" Pan Liu shouted, "That's the fallback we intend for future generations! It's an investment of hundreds of billions!"

"You can refuse," Lu Qingshan exhaled a smoke ring, "Tomorrow morning the front page of The New York Times will run these photos. Then you won't just lose your fallback—you'll lose any chance of survival."

Pan Liu opened his mouth, as if someone had a hand around his throat.

"Second," Lu Qingshan continued, "I want the complete blueprints of the lithography machines that Nikon and Canon hold, plus Toshiba's Semiconductor Lab Data. Originals."

That demand is even more lethal. It's Japan's only trump card to challenge the United States in this era.

"Mr. Lu, this… this requires a board resolution, and the other conglomerates…" Pan Liu's eyes flickered, still trying to stall.

Lu Qingshan smiled.

He said nothing, but gave Lin Yueqiang a raised chin.

Lin Yueqiang let out a snarling laugh, stepped up to Li Zexun, grabbed his hair and slammed his head hard onto the table.

"Mr. Lu! No! I'm of the Li Family! My father is Li Jiasheng! You can't…" Li Zexun screamed like a slaughtered pig.

"You dare mention your father? He's no good either!"

Lu Qingshan pulled an ivory chopstick from the chopstick holder on the table.

"Mr. Pan Liu seems to think I'm joking," Lu Qingshan toyed with the chopstick, "Lin Yueqiang, wake young master Li up."

Lin Yueqiang took the chopstick, without any hesitation, aimed at Li Zexun's left hand back pressed on the table, and thrust down hard.

"Pfft!"

Although the ivory chopstick's tip was blunt, under the tremendous force it pierced straight through the palm and lodged firmly into the wooden table.

"Ah—!!!"

A harrowing scream instantly pierced the private room's soundproof wall. Li Zexun convulsed in pain, his face as white as paper, his face smeared with tears and snot.

Blood dripped down the table edge, staining the Transfer Agreement red.

Pan Liu Xinyu was so frightened he fell onto his butt on the floor, his whole body trembling. He has been decisive and ruthless in business all his life, but this naked, bloody violence shattered the last shred of his civility as a "civilized person."

"Sign... I'll sign! I'll sign everything!"

Pan Liu scrambled, rolling and crawling to the table edge, his hands shaking so much he couldn't even hold his personal seal steady.

Lu Qingshan pressed the cigarette butt into Li Zexun's half‑empty cup of sake, producing a "sizzle" sound.

"Make a call and have the people from the other firms come over right now," Lu Qingshan said, looking at Pan Liu. "Tell them, if they don't want to be nailed to death like this hand, bring their seals."

Half an hour later.

In a private room on the top floor of Ginza, the space was filled with the bigwigs who normally cause tremors in Japan's financial world with a single step.

Now, each of them looked sallow, staring at the Li Zexun still with the chopstick stuck in him, already fainted from pain, and then at the Huaxia man seated at the head of the table who has killed across the global finance circle, no one dared utter a "no."

Signatures, seals.

One by one, asset transfer documents worth enough to buy half a country were settled in the air mixed with the scent of blood and tea.

The Japanese conglomerate's multi‑generational "shell‑shedding" scheme, both shell and meat, was fed entirely to Lu Qingshan.

When the business was done, it was already three A. M.

Lu Qingshan stood up and adjusted the collar of his trench coat.

"Lin Yueqiang, bandage young master Li," Lu Qingshan glanced at the Li Zexun who looked like a dead dog, "Did you record his confession just now that he helped the Japanese launder money and betray Hong Kong Island's interests?"

Lin Yueqiang shook the Micro Recorder in his hand: "Word for word, it's all in there."

"Good. Send the tape and this bill to Li Jiasheng," Lu Qingshan sneered, "Tell him this is my Mid‑Autumn gift. Let him see how his precious son threw the Li family's face into Tokyo."

Stepping out of the Kiku to Katana Private Club, the cold wind outside invigorated them.

Lu Qingshan stood on the street, watching the red lights flickering on Tokyo Tower in the distance.

The city was still asleep, unaware that its master had changed the world tonight.

"Brother‑in‑law, what do we do next?" Lin Yueqiang wiped the blood off his hand and asked.

Lu Qingshan looked up at the night sky; a hint of dawn was already spreading in the east.

"Daybreak is near."

He took out his phone and dialed Ye Ning.

"Go ahead."

Lu Qingshan's voice echoed across the empty street.

"Shorting Nikkei Index. With the black material we just obtained, I'll make the Japanese stock market kneel in the first minute of opening."

That night, Ginza's lights remained dazzling.

But beneath that glossy surface, the hunter from the east had already placed a knife at the country's throat.