A $50 million margin call? I'll short Wall Street.

March 19, 2008, Wednesday, 1:45 PM.

200 Broad Street, Lower Manhattan.

Goldman Sachs headquarters building.

A black Mercedes-Benz S-Class sedan slowly drove into the circular driveway in front of the building and stopped outside the revolving door.

The car door opened.

Lu Ze got out of the back seat.

He looked extremely cold and restrained, like a cold blade that had just been drawn from its sheath.

Isabella stepped out of the passenger seat, dressed in a black Armani business suit and carrying a briefcase full of documents.

Her face showed some tension, but her eyes were firm.

Behind them, a second car stopped.

Greenberg's personal lawyer, David Rosenthal, came down with two assistants, each carrying a heavy leather briefcase.

Lu Ze stood at the entrance of the building and looked up at the towering glass curtain wall structure.

Sunlight pierced through the clouds, reflecting a cold light onto the building's surface.

At that time, he stood under this building, like an ant about to be crushed.

And now-

"Boss."

Isabella's voice interrupted his thoughts.

She pointed to the street corner across from the building.

Lu Ze looked in the direction she was pointing.

Two black Ford Crown Victorias were parked on the side of the street. The cars had no markings, but the license plates were standard federal government-issued numbers.

The car window was rolled down halfway, and the man in the suit sitting in the driver's seat could be clearly seen talking quietly on a walkie-talkie.

FBI.

A very faint smile appeared on Lu Ze's lips.

He knew all too well what those two cars were there for.

Goldman Sachs has completely sacrificed Richard Kleiman. And the FBI's Economic Crimes Unit is waiting to take in this scapegoat who was ousted by Goldman Sachs.

"Let's go."

Lu Ze withdrew his gaze and strode towards the revolving door.

……

In the lobby, Goldman Sachs' chief legal officer, John McLeish, was already waiting.

He was wearing a dark gray three-piece suit, and a very professional but obviously cold smile appeared on his face.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Walker, Mr. Greenberg's legal team."

John bowed slightly.

"Mr. Blankfein and several members of the board are already waiting in the conference room. Please follow me."

He led Lu Ze and his group toward the elevator.

Swipe your card and press the button for the 43rd floor.

The elevator doors slowly closed.

Isabella stood behind Lu Ze, and she could feel the oppressive, almost suffocating tension in the air around her.

John stood in the corner of the elevator, his hands clasped in front of him, staring at the floor display screen, without saying a word.

There were fine beads of sweat on his temples.

"bite--"

The elevator stopped on the 43rd floor.

The moment the door opened—

A series of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, along with the sound of cardboard boxes rubbing together.

Two burly, expressionless internal security personnel were flanking a man as they walked over.

The man was carrying a cardboard box, inside which were a few photo frames, a mug, and a withered plant.

His once $5,000 custom-made shirt clung to his body, wrinkled and open at the collar, without a tie. His blond hair was disheveled like weeds, and his eyes were sunken and bloodshot.

Richard Kleiman.

The elevator doors opened fully.

Lu Ze stepped out of the elevator.

Right at the elevator entrance, the two groups of people met face to face.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

Richard raised his cloudy eyes.

The moment he saw Lu Ze, he froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

The cardboard box slipped from his hands and crashed onto the high-end carpet with a "crash." The glass of the picture frame shattered on the floor, and the mug rolled to Lu Ze's feet.

"It's you...it's you..."

Richard's lips trembled violently, and his eyes instantly turned red.

Like a mad dog, he suddenly broke free from a security guard's grasp and lunged at Lu Ze with bloodshot eyes:

"You ruined me! You monster! You set this up from the very beginning! You traded my life for eight hundred million! I'm going to kill you!!"

His fingers hadn't even touched Lu Ze's clothes yet.

The two security guards reacted instantly, and with a standard grappling move, they pinned Richard firmly against the wall.

Richard's face was pressed against the cold marble wall, his features contorted, and saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"Let me go!! Lu Ze! You'll go to hell! You'll get your retribution!"

He let out a beastly roar and curses.

John's face instantly turned ashen, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He roared at the security guard:

"What are you all doing! Drag this lunatic downstairs and hand him over to the FBI!"

"Yes!"

Two security guards forcefully pulled Richard down from the wall and dragged him roughly toward the freight elevator like a dead dog.

"Lu Ze! You'll die a horrible death!!"

Richard struggled desperately in the corridor, his voice as shrill as a dying beast.

Lu Ze stood still.

He did not take a single step back.

He didn't even frown.

He just stood there quietly, glancing down at the mug that had rolled to his feet.

The cup has Goldman Sachs' gold logo printed on it, with a line of smaller text below:

Goldman Sachs - Excellence in Everything We Do

(Goldman Sachs – Everything we do is done in pursuit of excellence)

Lu Ze lifted his foot and gently stepped on the cup.

"Click."

The white ceramic cup shattered with a crisp sound.

He looked up at Richard, who was being dragged toward the freight elevator.

The Goldman Sachs vice president who once sat impeccably in his conference room, issuing "execution orders," reading out liquidation terms with an air of superiority, and gently calling him "good brother."

Now, like a stray dog, he was dragged away like trash by security guards in the corridor where he had worked for twelve years.

Lu Ze's eyes were extremely cold.

There was no thrill of victory.

There was no ecstatic joy of revenge.

There is only one kind of absolute calm: watching a specimen die completely under a microscope.

"Clang—"

The freight elevator door closed.

Richard's curses were completely shut out behind the heavy iron gate.

The corridor returned to silence.

John coughed awkwardly:

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Walker. You witnessed...some unpleasant scenes."

"It's nothing."

Lu Ze withdrew his gaze, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

He stepped forward.

"Lead the way."

John paused for a moment.

He then took a deep breath and turned to walk towards the main conference room at the end of the corridor.

Isabella followed closely behind Lu Ze.

She glanced back at the closed freight elevator door, then at Lu Ze's straight back.

She suddenly realized that the man she was following was completely different.

Not long ago, he was a desperate Chinese-American rich kid who was driven to suicide by shooting himself.

And now, he's the one who can, expressionlessly, crush the last shred of dignity of his enemy in the Goldman Sachs corridors—

A true hunter.