Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

1999, spring.

The night sky over the Balkan Peninsula was torn to pieces by the incessant anti-aircraft fire.

The Kosovo War has been raging for two full months. NATO's relentless bombing has turned the land of Yugoslavia into scorched earth.

Ten thousand meters above the ground, a black B-2 stealth bomber, shaped like a giant bat, was silently approaching the city of Belgrade under the cover of night.

"Ghost One is calling the hive. It has entered the attack path."

Inside the cockpit, U.S. Army pilot Captain William chewed gum, looking at the red-marked coordinates on the radar screen, a relaxed, cold smile playing on his lips.

"It's like playing a video game. Those crappy radars in Yugoslavia couldn't even smell our exhaust fumes."

The co-pilot frowned slightly as he looked at the bombing coordinates.

"Sir, these coordinates... seem to be the Chinese Embassy in Yugoslavia?"

"Execute orders, soldier." William scoffed, his eyes gleaming with the arrogance typical of a superpower. "CIA intelligence says there's Yugoslav communication equipment hidden there. Besides, so what if it's bombed? The politicians in the White House have already prepared 'accidental bombing' statements and old maps as excuses."

"We'll show that giant dragon from the East who the real boss is in this world!"

The two 2,000-pound JDAM precision-guided bombs have been unlocked in the bomb bay.

Death is approaching.

Thousands of miles away, in Beijing.

Shenzhou Bureau Underground Information Command Center.

On the huge circular screen, countless green data streams poured down like a waterfall.

Shen Min'an, dressed in a white shirt, pushed up her black-rimmed glasses. Her cool eyes were fixed on the center of the screen, on a red dot that was moving at an extremely fast speed.

"Dad, the Americans have made their move."

Shen Min'an's fingers typed out the last line of code on the keyboard, the sound crisp yet carrying a chilling sharpness.

"They thought the B-2's stealth coating was invincible, and their tactical data link was flawless. But they had no idea that against our 'Skynet,' their proud C4ISR command network was like a leaky sieve!"

Shen Jinghong, carrying an enamel teacup, slowly walked to the screen.

He stared at the red dot of light, and the temperature in his eyes instantly plummeted to absolute zero.

The humiliating history of his past life, the blood of those three martyrs, and the embassy building riddled with holes were like a bloodstained thorn, piercing his nerves.

"Accidental bombing? An old map?"

Shen Jinghong let out a cold laugh, and his murderous aura suddenly erupted, causing Chen Weiguo, who was standing next to him, to involuntarily take half a step back.

"If I were to be reborn and still let you bunch of Ansarist bandits drop bombs on the heads of us Chinese, I, Shen Jinghong, might as well just find a block of tofu and smash my head against it!"

"Director! I'll notify the air defense forces in Yugoslavia immediately!" Chen Weiguo's eyes turned red with anxiety, and he turned to run towards the communications station.

"Need not."

Shen Jinghong grabbed Chen Weiguo's shoulder, her eyes revealing an arrogant look of looking down on the world.

"Those pieces of junk in Yugoslavia couldn't shoot down a B-2."

"To deal with this kind of shameless thug, protests are useless, condemnations are useless. You have to put a knife directly to his carotid artery!"

Shen Jinghong turned around, strode to the desk, and grabbed the red secure telephone that connected directly to the other side of the ocean.

Washington, D.C., the Oval Office of the White House.

President Clinton was sitting behind the Resolute Table, holding a glass of fine bourbon whiskey.

The CIA director sat opposite him, a sinister smile on his face.

"Mr. President, the B-2 is on its attack countdown. Once these bombs fall, we will be able to thoroughly test the Chinese's bottom line."

The CIA director reported smugly, "If they're just protesting, it means they're all bark and no bite, and we can tighten our strategy in Asia completely. That's called maximum pressure."

Clinton nodded in satisfaction and was about to raise his glass in celebration.

"Ring ring—!!!"

The red emergency hotline on the table, representing the highest level of emergency communication, suddenly started ringing frantically, like a death knell.

Clinton was so startled that his hand trembled, and he spilled whiskey all over his crotch.

He stared at the phone, his heart skipping a beat. This phone only rang in times of extreme crisis capable of triggering a world war.

His hands trembled as he picked up the receiver.

"I am Clinton."

There were no diplomatic words or pleasantries on the other end of the phone.

There was only a deep, cold voice from an Eastern man, filled with endless killing intent.

"Mr. Clinton, I am Shen Jinghong."

Upon hearing the name, Clinton's scalp tingled, and a chill ran down his spine to the top of his head.

"Director Shen... Director Shen? Why are you calling so late at night? What can I do for you?" Clinton tried to sound calm, but his voice was dry as if he had swallowed sand.

"I wouldn't call it instruction, just a reminder."

Shen Jinghong's voice came through the transoceanic cable, carrying a suffocating sense of oppression:

"Your B-2 stealth bomber is now a full 500 kilometers away from our embassy in Yugoslavia."

boom!

Clinton felt as if a thunderbolt had struck him, and he froze in his chair, completely stunned.

How did he know?!

The B-2 is absolutely stealthy! This operation is top secret! How could the Chinese calculate even the distances so precisely?!

"I...I don't know what you're talking about, Director Shen. This must be a misunderstanding; our plane was just carrying out routine procedures..."

"Shut your stinking mouth!"

Shen Jinghong ruthlessly interrupted his sophistry, her tone chilling to the extreme:

"Clinton, you better listen up."

"If tonight, a bomb, or even just a piece of shrapnel, lands in our embassy's courtyard..."

"Ten minutes later."

"A Dongfeng-41 intercontinental ballistic missile carrying a three-megaton thermonuclear warhead will land precisely on the roof of your Pentagon!"

"I will make the entire city of Washington pay with its life for our embassy!"

Clinton was so startled he almost slipped off his chair.

His face was ashen, and he hysterically roared into the microphone:

"Shen Jinghong! You're insane! You're starting World War III! This is nuclear blackmail!"

"Extortion? You think I'm joking?"

Shen Jinghong sneered, his laughter filled with absolute confidence and madness.

"If you don't believe me, look up now and see the images transmitted back by your keyhole reconnaissance satellite."

Clinton whirled around and yelled furiously at the CIA director, "Quick! Get the satellite footage of Northwest China! Now!"

The CIA director stumbled and scrambled to the terminal, his fingers trembling as he typed on the keyboard.

A few seconds later.

On the big screen, a high-definition image appeared that sent chills down the spines of all the top American officials.

A top-secret missile base in Northwest China.

The underground launch silo cover, which is tens of meters thick, is now completely open.

A massive, seemingly insurmountable Dongfeng-41 intercontinental ballistic missile stands silently in its launch silo.

The most critical issue is that the ignition program at the missile's tail has already been activated, and the orange-red tail flame is frantically billowing out in the deflector!

This is not a drill!

That madman from the East named Shen Jinghong, he really pressed the nuclear button halfway!

The moment he loosens his grip, this Grim Reaper, powerful enough to wipe out the entire Washington, will immediately take to the air!

"My God..."

Clinton's legs buckled, and he knelt directly behind the desk.

His pride in applying maximum pressure was like a laughable baby toy in front of this man who dared to flip the table.

Testing the limits?

Their bottom line is to just throw a nuclear bomb at your skull!

"Retreat! Retreat immediately!"

Clinton frantically grabbed the command communicator and let out a piercing scream into the Air Force Operations Command:

"Order the B-2 bombers! Turn around immediately! Drop the bombs into the sea right now!"

"If the bomb lands on the Chinese embassy, ​​you will all be court-martialed! Hurry up!"

Over the Balkans.

Captain William's finger was already on the bomb release button.

"Target locked, prepare to fire..."

"Ghost One! Terminate the mission immediately! Repeat! Terminate the mission immediately!"

Suddenly, the Air Force Commander's distorted, frantic roar came through his headphones, making William's eardrums ache.

"Sir? We've reached the bombing position!"

"I order you to turn around immediately! Drop the bombs into the Adriatic Sea! Get back to base right now! This is a direct order from the President!"

Captain William was completely dumbfounded.

But he dared not disobey this supreme command, which was delivered with a sob in his voice.

The massive B-2 bomber suddenly pulled up its nose in the night sky and made a sharp turn in mid-air in a disheveled manner.

"Whoosh—whoosh—"

Two precision-guided bombs, originally aimed at the Chinese embassy, ​​were hastily dropped into the dark Adriatic Sea, creating two huge plumes of water.

This expensive stealth ghost, like a terrified stray dog, tucked its tail between its legs and fled in a frantic escape.

Beijing, China Central Bureau.

Shen Min'an watched the red dot on the screen quickly turn around and move away from the embassy district, and let out a long sigh of relief.

"Dad, they've changed direction. The bomb has been dropped into the sea."

Shen Jinghong leaned back in her chair, picked up the already warm tea, and slowly took a sip.

He listened to Clinton's heavy breathing on the other end of the phone, and a dangerous smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Mr. Clinton, it seems your pilots aren't completely stupid."

On the other end of the phone, Clinton slumped to the ground, drenched in cold sweat, unable to utter a single word.

"but."

Shen Jinghong put down her teacup, her eyes instantly turning sharp as knives, her tone revealing a ruthless, bone-sucking cruelty:

"Although the bomb was dropped into the sea, I was still very frightened."

"I suffer a great deal of psychological damage when I'm frightened."

Shen Jinghong spoke into the microphone, enunciating each word clearly:

"Mr. Clinton, shouldn't we have a proper discussion about the compensation for this emotional distress?"