Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 172 The Imperial Treasury Burned to Ashes

"Okay." Zhou Yi nodded and said:

"I just received the order; I was asked to pass it on to you—"

This time, before he finished speaking, he leaned forward, took a step, and then slammed his leg against the edge of the table.

The force was so great that the entire guard platform lost its balance and overturned.

The officers who stood up instinctively dodged.

However, due to a loss of balance, the movements became distorted.

The next second, Zhou Yi slammed his elbow into his wrist.

The pistol immediately veered off course.

Zhou Yi seized the opportunity to grab the edge of the slide and pulled hard, disarming the opponent.

At the same time, he pulled out a dagger from behind his waist and stabbed it diagonally into his ribs.

"what--!"

The officer staggered backward, still attempting to fight back—

Zhou Yi continued moving, using the momentum to forcefully push him back into the chair.

Driven by the fear of death, the man is still struggling.

Seeing this, Zhou Yi simply used his knee to press against his throat, pulled out his military knife, and inserted it into his collarbone again.

Blood spurts out.

The heat spread across the carpet.

In a flash, the last man managed to grab the pistol, but his view was blocked by the overturned guard post.

I had just gotten up when I saw the enemy leap over.

The man was terrified.

The instant the gun was raised, Zhou Yi decisively grabbed his upper arm, gripped the gun in his right hand, and slammed it heavily onto his jaw.

Three clean and crisp strikes in quick succession.

The other person's eyes were unfocused, his steps were unsteady, and his whole body was swaying, yet he still clung tightly to his tactical vest.

Zhou Yi turned halfway, held the blade in reverse, and inserted the dagger along the side of his ribs.

It goes straight from under the armpit to the chest cavity, all the way through.

The man convulsed violently twice, his fingertips loosened weakly, his neck tilted to the side, and his head drooped down.

Zhou Yi stood up without changing his expression, quickly picked up his gun again, let it hang naturally, and placed his finger on the outer edge of the trigger guard.

Within seconds, the documents were scattered all over the ground, most of them soaked in blood.

He glanced down at his watch—

T+3.

The attendees inside probably hadn't had time to react yet.

Zhou Yi tore the identification card off the corpse's chest, stuffed it into his pocket, and strolled towards the end of the corridor.

There was dead silence in the conference room.

They were originally discussing interest rate adjustments and foreign capital intervention mechanisms.

Everyone spoke with an air of arrogance.

Perhaps not at each other, but at the system that keeps the United States a superpower.

They are the builders, and also the biggest beneficiaries.

McCann didn't come.

The Federal Reserve Chairman sat in the center, with the regional presidents sitting next to him.

Opposite them were managing partners from several major asset management companies, as well as two senior executives from international investment banks.

Congress has become utterly ineffective.

The White House is still busy with public relations.

But the market waits for no one.

Someone has to step in and settle things.

No one expected this sudden and complete lockdown.

At first, all that could be heard was a low rumble from outside.

Immediately afterwards, communication with the outside world was cut off.

The security chief immediately ordered the doors sealed and drew his service weapon to maintain vigilance.

He was a retired Lieutenant Colonel Marin, whose last name was Collins.

Even with extensive deployment experience, I've never dealt with such a tricky situation before.

A few minutes later, someone in the corner finally couldn't help but complain:
"Forgive me for speaking frankly, but this is a complete waste of your precious time."

"Where are the guards? Why haven't they been restored yet? This is blatant dereliction of duty!"

The next second—

"Di-"

A clear card-swiping sound came from outside.

Collins abruptly raised his head and gestured to stop everyone.

It wasn't forced open.

It was an insider trying to get in.

Immediately, several sighs of relief echoed through the conference room.

It seemed as if everything was about to be back under control.

Collins, however, did not let his guard down.

A subtle, unsettling feeling crept up my spine—something felt off.

He took a half step back, slightly bent one knee, held the gun level with his shoulder, and shouted:

"Identify yourself!"

There was a two-second silence outside.

A calm, almost indifferent male voice rang out:
"who am I?"

“I am Jim.”

Upon hearing this, Collins' eyelids twitched uncontrollably, and he pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Unfortunately, it's too late.

"boom--!"

The entire door panel exploded instantly and slammed in horizontally.

Collins couldn't dodge in time, and his figure swayed.

The next moment, the bullet whizzed past and struck him squarely between the eyebrows.

"Boom!"

The body fell straight down, and the pistol slid about half a meter away.

Zhou Yi then walked into the house.

I stood still beside the broken door.

No one dared to utter a sound.

No one dared to make a move.

People in suits sat stiffly in their seats.

His eyes darted around, his expression revealing fear. "Good afternoon, everyone, and—goodbye."

As Zhou Yi spoke, he raised his gun to aim.

However, at this moment——

"Please wait!"

The first to speak was a middle-aged white man.

He pushed the table aside, stood up, raised his hands, and said in a restrained tone, "We can talk, anything is fine—"

Richard Clemens.

Zhou Yi interrupted him, but at the same time put down his rifle and said with great interest.

"Partner at Blackstone Group's private equity division."

"Controls assets worth hundreds of billions of US dollars."

"Spanning more than seventy countries and hundreds of cities."

"So, I'm curious—do people like you struggle with death just like we do?"

Upon hearing this absurd question, the man's Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

He stood still, his gaze slowly shifting from the gun barrel to the assassin's eyes, and then he spoke:

"Since you've investigated so thoroughly, you should understand that I'm not the one who deserves to die the most."

"I can guess who else is on your list."

“I also know where they are now, and how to get them to show up.”

The man paused, then lowered his stance even further:
"Killing me is just eliminating an insignificant node."

"But leaving me here could cause the entire system to crash."

Therefore, I request—

"boom."

The bullet pierced through his forehead.

The man slumped back into his chair.

A large hole was torn open at the back of his head, and a mixture of gray and red substances gushed out.

"."

After a brief silence, the conference room completely spiraled out of control.

Someone screamed and stood up, knocking over a chair in the chaos, then crawled towards the corner of the wall.

The tall, thin man in a dark gray suit tried to rush outside, but Zhou Yi grabbed him, kicked him in the back of the knee, and forced him to kneel on the ground.

"Don't kill me. Don't kill me!"

An incoherent plea came from his throat.

Christopher Snyder.

The tall, thin man looked up, trembling, and tried to open his mouth again—

"boom."

The bullet entered through the eye socket.

Blood, brain matter, and skull fragments splattered everywhere.

Red, white, yellow, and gray viscous liquids spread along the carpet's texture.

It was truly a riot of colors.

"James Allison."

A bald, fat man tried to crawl under the table, leaving half of his buttocks sticking out.

"boom!"

The bullet pierced his spine, exited from his abdomen, and tore his suit apart.

Half of his intestines spilled out and piled up beside him.

"Osborn Lee".

"boom!"

The man wearing glasses fell helplessly.

Blood gushed from his ears and eye sockets, quickly forming a puddle.

The gunfire continued.

Accompanied by the cold roll call.

Claudia Ames.

"Please don't—"

"boom."

"Russell Mason".

"I have children! Listen to me, listen—"

"boom."

"John Adler".

"No, no, I'm not the decision-maker, I just—"

"boom."

"Ben Howard."

"."

"boom."

“Ilya Stone”.

"I am guilty! I am guilty! Lord, please forgive me—"

"boom."

"."

"."

"."

After an unknown amount of time, the room finally quieted down.

The screaming stopped.

The crying and screaming stopped.

The prayers are gone.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder.

The ground was covered with broken bodies.

The wealthy and powerful.

Eyeballs bursting, necks broken, chests caved in.

His limbs were layered, twisted, and intertwined, making him look extremely disheveled.

It has completely lost its former luster.

Zhou Yi let out a long sigh of relief and pushed the magazine back in.

Then, he looked up at the only survivor at the scene—

Federal Reserve Chairman Samuel Gilbert.

(End of this chapter)