Chapter 914: I Wasn't Scared Big

No sooner had that general finished speaking than a piece of the latest intelligence was placed before NATO Secretary-General Javier.

Javier picked it up to take a look, his brows instantly knitting into a knot, and his voice rose: "The Soviet Union has dispatched troops!"

European Allied Forces Commander Wesli crossed his legs, his tone carrying a hint of disdain: "The Soviet Union? It's nothing but an empty shell, very hollow. It's perfect; let's take this opportunity to push this fake giant over in one go."

Javier shook his head, tapping his finger heavily on the intelligence, his tone sinking: "General Wesli, don't forget, they are still clutching thousands of nuclear bombs in their hands! It's fine if they fall on their own, but if you want to go up and give them a push—no, absolutely not."

United States representative Bill's expression was also unpleasant, and he took up the thread: "I also do not agree with a head-on collision. If we really push them to the edge, it won't benefit anyone."

Wesli had originally wanted to argue a few points, but seeing that the United States side had no intention of forcing the issue, his momentum immediately dropped by half.

He leaned back against the chair and sighed: "Then... we can only withdraw our troops."

"No." Bill raised his hand and said decisively, "We cannot withdraw. To withdraw is to show weakness. We must continue to increase our troops, stand face-to-face with them there, and tell them—we will strike whenever we want to strike."

The conference room was quiet for a few seconds; the air was heavy, and everyone was weighing the gravity of these words.

At this moment, Kosovo.

He Yuzhu was sitting in a room on the third floor of an old hotel. On the television screen, CNN was broadcasting live footage of a torrent of steel with guns pointed at guns; the atmosphere was as tense as a fully drawn bowstring.

He leaned against the sofa, the corners of his mouth tugging slightly.

He thought to himself, having a weak Soviet Union is actually quite good; at the very least, they can shoulder some of NATO's firepower. This banner cannot fall just yet.

He took out his mobile phone and dialed a number.

"Zhao Ying, how are things on the stock market side?"

On the other end of the line, Zhao Ying was stunned for two seconds, then her voice trembled with excitement: "Zhuzi! Ever since those NATO bases were bombed, our short positions on the Nasdaq have all made a killing! Guess how much we made? —One trillion US dollars! A full trillion!"

Upon hearing this number, He Yuzhu's brows tightened instead, and he hurriedly instructed: "Don't just focus on being happy. You must transfer the money out immediately, disperse it, and leave no tail behind. Once those politicians come to their senses and freeze the assets, we won't be able to get a single cent out."

Zhao Ying was silent for three seconds.

To be honest, she was still itching to take advantage of this panic in the US stock market to make another big haul. But she also knew that He Yuzhu was right; the risk had already singed her eyebrows.

"Alright, I'll listen to you. I'll immediately use various channels to transfer the money out; I won't leave a single trace."

In the days that followed, the Nasdaq completely collapsed.

The stock prices of tech companies fell to only thirty percent, or even twenty percent, of their original value, and even when they were hanging at the limit-down price, no one gave them a second look.

M Country.

Those Silicon Valley engineers who once held large amounts of stock options and were glamorous and bright turned from millionaires into paupers overnight.

In the San Francisco Bay Area, every household had a "For Quick Sale" sign stuck at their door. In Manhattan, the keys to those high-end apartments that people once had to queue up to buy were being thrown back to bank counters in bunches. In airport parking lots, they were packed with luxury cars that Indian-descent engineers had bought with loans; they had run back to their own countries, and the cars were left at the airport with no one to care for them.

Crowds began to gather on the streets, at first a few dozen, then hundreds, then thousands.

"Give me back my pension!"

"Wall Street swindlers!"

"The government is doing nothing!"

The shouts rose wave after wave.

The demonstrations spread from Silicon Valley, burned through Chicago, rolled across the East Coast, and finally converged into a torrent of anger, burning like a wildfire across the entire M Country.

The angry crowd smashed the glass at the entrance of the Nasdaq exchange, and someone with nerves of steel climbed onto that world-famous Wall Street Charging Bull and splashed a whole bucket of bright red paint onto it.

The scarlet liquid dripped down the bull's head, looking as piercing as blood under the sunlight.

In the news studio, the usually composed anchor's face was livid, and his lips couldn't stop trembling: "This is... the most tragic tech stock crash since 1929... over eight trillion dollars in market value has evaporated... the American middle class is suffering a devastating blow..."

Hong Kong, Mid-Levels, Hillside Villa.

He Yuzhu held a cup of coffee, sitting alone in front of the large floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside the window, the sea surface of Victoria Harbour was sparkling, a picture of tranquility.

On the television screen, that anchor in the decent suit was still trembling as he read his script, and the camera cut back to Wall Street—the red paint on that charging bull was exceptionally glaring in the afternoon sun.

He Yuzhu took a sip of coffee, placed the cup gently on the coffee table, and smiled, "Play games with me, and you won't get any good fruit to eat."

Just as he was speaking, Zhao Ying pushed the door open and entered.

Her face still carried the unspent excitement as she walked quickly to He Yuzhu's side and sat down: "Zhuzi, the money has all been transferred out. What should we use this money for next?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment and said: "Diversify the investments; don't let anyone know we earned so much. Take a portion and invest it in the mainland, establish a large fund, and specifically invest in those local enterprises with development potential."

He looked out the window, thinking to himself, "In this lifetime, I never want to see our best enterprises bought up by overseas interests again."

Just as Zhao Ying was about to say something, He Yuzhu's mobile phone rang.

It was bad news.

A massive fleet led by the United States had sailed into the First Island Chain, setting up a formation right at Huaxia's doorstep, with guns pointed from afar in a naked display of intimidation and deterrence.

Immediately following this, Secretary Liu's call also came through.

"Zhuzi. M Country seems to have figured out the general idea of your affairs; they have implicitly suggested that you are related to that Shadow Organization and are demanding that the state cooperate to arrest you."

After hearing this, He Yuzhu was stunned for a moment, then laughed out loud, "Arrest me? Fine, let them come. I'll fight them to the death. I'll take out one for every one that comes; I'll finish off their frontline commander first, then kill the big leader behind them."

"Zhuzi!" Secretary Liu's voice suddenly turned stern, "You cannot be so impulsive!"

The other end of the line was silent for two seconds, then the tone softened, carrying the patience unique to an elder: "I'll give you an idea. In the Middle East, Babylon has been restless lately, with constant friction with the Kurds. You might as well start from there, besiege Wei to rescue Zhao, and set a fire under their own backsides."

He Yuzhu narrowed his eyes and thought about it, his gaze brightening: "That's a good idea. I'll plan it out immediately."

Secretary Liu's tone grew heavy, and he instructed word by word: "Zhuzi, you remember this for me. Outside, if anything happens, as long as you tell me, I will exhaust this old frame of mine to help you. Do you understand?"

He Yuzhu gripped his phone, his throat tightening slightly.

"Old leader, don't you worry." He said in a deep voice, "Although I've grown older, my skills haven't been lost at all."

On the other end of the line, Secretary Liu smiled, smiling with great gratification.