Manhattan, New York.
At the Astor Estate, the gathered consortium representatives were spewing profanities in furious indignation.
Watching one man angrily dial a phone while spitting out "fuck" after "fuck," Liu Ren covered his face in "deep sorrow," terrified that in the very next second he would burst out laughing.
After all, while the others remained in the dark about who had robbed the banks, how could he not know?
Facing the massive losses suffered by HSBC, Citibank and Wells Fargo, which ought to have been furious, suddenly found themselves feeling rather calm. For no matter how great their own losses were, could they compare to the one hundred million dollars in bearer bonds stolen from HSBC?
At most, they had lost twenty or thirty million, but HSBC had suffered a crippling blow to the bone and would need immediate support from its headquarters.
As for JPMorgan Chase, there was even less need to say: all told, they had lost under ten million dollars. After all, most of their financial operations were conducted directly through Wall Street!
Liu Ren, meanwhile, counted as the "most miserable" among them, having suffered a fabricated loss of a full "thirty million"!
Although the insurance companies harbored doubts about the financial losses reported by each bank, after all the tallies, the devastation was undeniable, forcing them to grit their teeth and pay out.
After all, who could have imagined that simple, honest New York would spawn a ruthless bandit capable of hitting five banks in a row?
"Liu, don't take it so hard. We've already spoken with the insurance companies—the payouts will arrive soon! If you run short on cash, just let me know. As your friend, I won't let you suffer!"
Patting Liu Ren's shoulder, Lauren still wore his usual plump, genial expression.
Looking up, Liu Ren suppressed his inner "grief" and said, "Thank you, Lauren. I just need a moment to clear my head."
"Of course, Liu!"
Nodding to Liu Ren, Lauren said no more.
Lounging on the sofa with a cigar clamped between his teeth, Little John fumed, "Those idiots at the police department let a madman tear through the streets of Manhattan and rob us blind! Fuck!"
Hearing Little John's outburst, the representative from Citibank raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Looks like HSBC took the hardest hit this time, didn't they?"
"I heard they lost bearer bonds worth a hundred million, plus over sixteen million in cash. God, how pitiful!"
Fighting to keep a smirk off his face, the Citibank representative spoke in sympathetic tones, yet he could not conceal the gloating satisfaction dancing in his eyes.
After all, they were all in the banking business. HSBC's headquarters was in London, yet it had presumptuously expanded its reach all the way into New York.
And now, out of nowhere, a ferocious robber had struck and plundered them all.
For the others, the losses barely mattered—the insurance companies would cover them. But HSBC was a completely different story. Upon learning that one hundred million dollars' worth of bearer bonds had vanished, their insurance company had filed for bankruptcy with the court on the spot!
That was what everyone really wanted to laugh about. Who could have guessed HSBC would keep something like that in a mere branch vault?
Worse yet, the bonds didn't belong to just one client; they were the combined deposits of five or six different parties, totaling a hundred million!
Which meant that with the current level of investigative capability, there was no chance of catching this "ruthless outlaw."
"I believe we need to upgrade the police department's equipment," Liu Ren piped up, addressing the room. His immediate impulse was to secure some advantages for Lundin.
After all, Lundin was already the superintendent of Brooklyn; one more step forward, and he would be the commissioner of all New York!
Hearing Liu Ren's suggestion, none of those present objected. The incident was simply too egregious; no one had imagined anyone would dare run so rampant through New York!
Watching everyone nod in agreement, Liu Ren felt a sweatdrop forming on his brow. The Orc Lad really was far too dangerous; one careless slip, and he'd have everyone joining in on the "fun"!
Orc Beastman: *Da fuck do I care where this is? Waaaaagh!*
***
Brooklyn, a lavish estate, the basement.
A black sedan sat parked near the entrance as Liu Ren and A Chao unloaded crates with their own hands.
Gazing at the stacks upon stacks of crates filled with greenbacks, A Chao stared in disbelief. "Motherfucker! How much money is this?"
"I tallied it up," Liu Ren replied with a sinister grin, pulling several bearer bonds from a manila envelope. "Sixty million in cash. But this right here is the real prize!"
Because HSBC had held comparatively little cash, Liu Ren had made a point of ransacking their safety deposit lockers, never expecting such an unexpected windfall—these bearer bonds.
Bearer bonds commanded supreme purchasing power and liquidity, especially in this era; they could easily be used just like cash without fear of being traced.
Liu Ren understood perfectly well what people who bought bearer bonds were thinking: they wanted to move their assets quietly and without a trace.
Well, they wouldn't need to move them anymore—everything had landed squarely in his hands.
As for how HSBC would explain this to their clients, that was their problem, completely unrelated to Liu Ren.
Now all he needed was to have Fred find a way to launder the money from overseas and deposit it back into their bank accounts.
The reason Liu Ren had opened a bank in the first place was that he simply had too much dirty money—no legitimate bank could handle it all for him.
That was why he had opened his own bank. As for "the fire dragon burns the warehouse" to reap double the joy, that was merely a clever scheme to solve a temporary cash crunch.
After all, what respectable banker would ever rob his own vault? Real bankers robbed other people's!
Spreading his arms wide before the mountain of dollar bills, Liu Ren proclaimed with wild arrogance, "Do you see this? This is our financial empire! Hahahaha!"
Hearing this, A Chao couldn't help clicking his tongue. "If you lived in ancient times, you'd get nine generations of your family executed at the very least!"
"Huh?" Liu Ren glared at him suspiciously, looking utterly bewildered.
***
Yet while Liu Ren was relishing the joy of his newfound wealth, Han Hu was currently listening to the sonata of a Gatling gun!
*Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat!*
The rotating cluster of barrels spun relentlessly, unleashing a ferocious storm of kinetic force.
As the sheet of metal rain poured down, Ronald dove frantically to the ground in terror.
The men he and Tommy had brought along were far less fortunate; several of them instantly mastered the "art of the blood mist," bursting apart under the hail of lead.
Listening to the howling fire outside the window, Han Hu sneered savagely, "Little bastards! You want to outgun us? Don't you know we run an arms factory?"
Looking at Han Hu's chest-puffing pride, Luca finally understood why Gatsby was able to rule Brooklyn with an iron fist.
He had heard rumors that Gatsby would occasionally haul out military mortars to wipe out his enemies!
Turns out the damn method was an ancestral tradition!
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Roaring in fury, Ronald's face flushed crimson with rage. He had never been suppressed like this in his entire life!
Yet just as Ronald's sanity began to fray into madness, the rattle of gunfire erupted once more.
Only this time, it was not the Gatling gun, but men clad in black short jackets holding submachine guns, advancing steadily down both sides of the street.
Yet in the face of such a terrifying localized war, the local police station offered no reaction whatsoever, as if every officer had suddenly gone deaf and blind.
Of course, they couldn't be blamed. As tyrannical as the Shelby family was in Birmingham, could they really outmatch the Silver Rock Group, which had been supplying arms to the British military since the Great War?
Liu Ren: *When you make a mistake, admit it; when you take a beating, stand at attention!*
Chapter 51