Did he trick the young marshal into becoming sworn brothers and then go south to Huangpu Military Ac

Guangzhou, the Grand Marshal's Mansion.

In the depths of winter in Lingnan, there is not a trace of frost or snow; instead, the air is damp and sultry.

The ceiling fan creaked and spun, unable to dispel the gloomy atmosphere that filled the room.

The gentleman sat at the head of the long table, holding an unlit cigar in his hand.

The establishment of the military academy required funds at every turn, but Soviet aid was delayed. The few dilapidated machine tools at the Ishii Arsenal couldn't even gather the most basic rifle parts. Even a skilled cook can't make a meal without rice.

The confidential secretary strode in, breaking the silence. He held a translated top-secret telegram in his hands.

"Shanghai Renjie Express"

The man took the telegram, his gaze sweeping across the paper. His previously furrowed brows suddenly furrowed, and his fingers, holding a cigarette, tightened abruptly, crumpling the paper into deep creases.

The core elders in the conference room stopped talking and all looked over. For the usually composed gentleman to lose his composure, something of great importance must have happened.

"Take a look, everyone."

The gentleman handed the telegram to Liao Zkai, who was sitting on his left.

Liao Zikai took it, skimmed through it, and his expression changed instantly.

"150,000 silver dollars were donated free of charge. A complete set of blueprints for modern ammonia synthesis and arsenal renovation."

Liao Zikai's voice trembled slightly as he read the second half of the telegram word by word: "He withdrew from Lu Xiaojia with a single word, subdued the Green Gang, and his background is unfathomable. I suggest welcoming him with the courtesy due to a state guest."

Everyone present was astonished.

150,000 silver dollars would be a huge sum of money in today's world, enough to turn around the entire military and political landscape of the South.

What's even more terrifying is that set of military blueprints and the connections that reach the heavens. What Guangzhou lacks most right now is not an army, but an industrial base capable of manufacturing guns and cannons.

"God-given warrior."

The gentleman stood up, walked to the map, and his gaze fell on Shanghai: "This man is no ordinary wealthy businessman. He understands the military industry, has enormous wealth, and can even command the obedience of the warlords of Jiangsu and Zhejiang. He is a man of great talent capable of ruling the world. I should personally go to Shanghai to meet this Dr. Lin."

These words caused an uproar in the meeting room.

"Sir, you mustn't."

Liao Zikai immediately spoke up to stop him: "The Yunnan and Guangxi armies are deeply entrenched in Guangzhou, and various forces are eager to make a move. You are the pillar of stability in the South. If you leave Guangzhou, things will definitely change. You must not risk your life for one person."

Everyone agreed, as the situation indeed did not allow the gentleman to move easily.

At the end of the long table sat a middle-aged officer in a neat military uniform.

His back was ramrod straight. He was in a rather awkward position and desperately needed to make an outstanding contribution to the establishment of the military academy to solidify his position.

Chiang Kai-shek stood up, walked to the center of the long table, and stood at attention to salute.

"Principal, Chiang Kai-shek is willing to go to Shanghai. He will ensure that Dr. Lin is safely brought back to Guangzhou and will not fail in his mission."

The teacher looked at the eager student in front of him and shook his head slightly.

"Kaisen, you're not good enough."

The tone was flat, without any hint of belittling; it was simply stating a fact.

Chiang Kai-shek's expression stiffened, and a barely perceptible hint of gloom flashed in his eyes before he quickly concealed it and respectfully returned to his seat.

"gentlemen."

On the right side of the long table, Song Ziwen, who had been silent all along, finally spoke. He was wearing a well-tailored suit and pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses.

"Dr. Lin is a double PhD graduate from the US and has a deep understanding of the Western industrial system. Ziwen studied at Harvard in his early years and has some knowledge of Western industry and economic operations. Sending me there is good because, firstly, we have common ground and can communicate easily. Secondly, Wall Street and the overseas industrial circle are only so big, and I can also test the mettle of this God of Wealth for the South."

Song Ziwen's words hit the nail on the head. Not just anyone can pretend to be a foreign tycoon; those in the know can tell the difference with a single test.

The gentleman pondered for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

"Ziwen, go and investigate. But to show our sincerity, Zhongkai, you will lead the team yourself. Kaishen, you will take a few capable men to accompany you as guards and be responsible for communication and coordination. The three of you will go to Shanghai together. Make sure you bring them back."

The simultaneous emergence of three major figures was unprecedented in the entire Republic of China era.

A few days later, Shanghai, Shiliupu Wharf.

A thick fog blanketed the river as the passenger ship sounded its horn and slowly approached the shore.

Liao Zikai, Song Ziwen, and Chang Kaishen changed into inconspicuous coarse cloth gowns and mingled among the disembarking merchants.

The Southern revolutionaries were closely watched by the Zhili warlords and the police in the foreign concessions in Shanghai. Their trip was extremely secretive, and they were prepared to go into a safe house in the French Concession as soon as they disembarked.

As soon as he stepped onto the springboard, Chiang Kai-shek keenly sensed that something was wrong.

The once bustling dock was unusually quiet. The laborers and thugs who used to run around everywhere were nowhere to be seen. In their place were two rows of fully armed regular soldiers.

They wore grey-blue military uniforms and carried Mauser rifles.

Bayonets gleamed coldly in the mist, and three black Ford sedans bearing the license plates of the Shanghai Garrison Commander were parked around the perimeter.

Chiang Kai-shek's palms were sweating, and he secretly reached for his sidearm at his waist. He had a bad feeling in his heart. Had the news leaked out and Lu Yongxiang's army come to arrest him?

An adjutant dressed in a military officer's uniform strode forward, his gaze sweeping over the disembarking crowd.

"Which of these distinguished guests are from Guangzhou?"

The adjutant had a loud voice, but showed no intention of drawing his gun; instead, he was quite polite.

The three exchanged a glance, and Liao Zikai steadied himself and stepped forward.

"My surname is Liao, and I come from the south."

The adjutant looked him up and down, then immediately stood at attention and gave a very standard military salute.

"Mr. Liao, I have come to the dock to greet you on the orders of Mr. Lu. Dr. Lin instructed that our friends from Guangzhou are honored guests and that we must not let them suffer any inconvenience in Shanghai. The car is ready; please get in and we will go directly to the Astor House Hotel."

Chiang Kai-shek was completely stunned.

Everyone in Jiangnan knows what kind of person Lu Xiaojia is.

That troublemaker wouldn't even listen to his own father, but now he's actually obediently sending his own guard company to the dock to act as doormen and protectors for a few southern rebels.

Sitting in the spacious and stable Ford, watching the police officers from the foreign concessions and the thugs of the Green Gang give way along the way, Chiang Kai-shek leaned back in his leather seat, his heart filled with turmoil.

Who exactly is this Dr. Lin, whom we've never met before, that he could tame the most arrogant second-generation warlord in Jiangsu and Zhejiang like a domestic dog?

As the convoy drove into the Bund, Zhao Sihai was already waiting in front of the revolving glass doors of the Astor House Hotel.

We were introduced to the elevator, which took us directly to the top-floor presidential suite.

Push open the heavy mahogany door.

The reception room is spacious and bright, offering a panoramic view of the Huangpu River.

Lin Qi sat on a huge leather sofa, wearing a minimalist white shirt with the collar slightly open.

He didn't get up to greet her, but simply pointed casually to the sofa opposite him.

"Mr. Liao, Mr. Song, Field Manager. You must be tired from your journey, please have a seat."

His tone was neither humble nor arrogant, and even carried a hint of composure as if he had taken the lead.

Liao Zikai had seen countless people, and he could tell at a glance that the young man in front of him had the aura of someone who had been in a high position for a long time and had the power of life and death.

This is absolutely not an act; it's the confidence cultivated over many years of standing at the top of the pyramid.

Song Ziwen sat down on the sofa, his eyes fixed intently on Lin Qi.

He came with a mission: to uncover the opponent's true intentions.

"Dr. Lin."

Song Ziwen switched directly to fluent, pure English without speaking Chinese, his rapid speech creating a strong sense of pressure: "I heard from Renjie that you control heavy industrial capital overseas. I wonder if your financial chain is affiliated with the Morgan Group or the DuPont family? With the international gold standard in turmoil, which clearing bank did you use to transfer your 150,000 silver dollars into Shanghai?"

A string of Wall Street's core business jargon and financial terms.

Those who don't understand the matter won't even be able to comprehend it, let alone respond to it.

Lin Qi picked up the black coffee on the coffee table, took a sip, and his eyes were as calm as a dry well.

He not only understands it, but also possesses a macroeconomic "dragon-slaying" technique that is a hundred years ahead of its time.

"Mr. Song, your vision is too narrow."

Lin Qi put down his coffee cup and retorted in English as well, his tone flat and devoid of any inflection, yet exuding a cold, ruthless air of overwhelming superiority.

"You're still focusing on the cash flow of a few conglomerates. Do you think the world's money is made by mining gold and taking advantage of exchange rate differences? You're so wrong."

Lin Qi leaned forward and placed his hands crossed on his knees.

"The core of the future competition between major powers lies in the industrial price scissors. You can exchange the cost of one ton of crude steel for ten or even one hundred tons of agricultural products from less developed countries. As long as you master the most advanced chemical synthesis technology and special smelting technology, you can endlessly harvest the blood and sweat of agricultural countries with industrial products. The ammonia synthesis equipment I brought back can not only produce smokeless gunpowder, but the byproduct nitrates it produces can also be used to make fertilizer. Fertilizer is food, food is population, and population is manpower."

Lin Qi stared at Song Ziwen's face and continued to apply pressure.

"As for the gold standard, the global financial system will be restructured within ten years. Currency will be completely decoupled from gold and shift to a fiat currency system anchored to the credit of national industries. Right now, you in the South don't even have a unified central bank. Various warlords are issuing military scrip indiscriminately, and they are complacent with tens of thousands of silver dollars. A financial system without an industrial foundation is like a castle on the beach, which will collapse at the slightest touch."

The reception room was deathly silent.

Liao Zikai and Chang Kaishen couldn't understand English, and could only see fine beads of sweat constantly seeping from Song Ziwen's forehead, his originally straight back gradually bending down.

Song Ziwen was completely shocked.

His proud Harvard economics theory is as laughable as a primary school student's arithmetic problem compared to Lin Qi's theory of macroeconomic industrial and monetary hegemony.

The other party wasn't talking about how to make money at all; they were deconstructing the survival rules of a country for the next hundred years.

"Dr. Lin is a great talent."

Song Ziwen swallowed hard, his voice dry. He involuntarily switched back to Chinese, his posture completely humbled: "Ziwen is very grateful for your guidance. If the South can receive your assistance, it will truly be a blessing for the nation."

Lin Qi leaned back on the sofa and nodded slightly.

"I've provided the money and blueprints. My sincerity is on the table. I'm going to Guangzhou to do only two things: build the factory and manufacture the guns. All personnel transfers and material procurement are under my control. Anyone who dares to embezzle or plant spies in my arsenal will be fired immediately."

As his gaze swept over the three men, Chiang Kai-shek felt a chill run down his spine, experiencing the illusion of facing a massive army.

The talks went very smoothly, and the South accepted all of Lin Qi's conditions.

Night falls, in the French Concession, at the Song family's old residence.

The restaurant was lit by crystal chandeliers, and a sumptuous Western meal was laid out on the long dining table.

Song Ziwen sat in his seat, the steak in front of him cut in half, but he didn't touch it. He was in a state of extreme excitement.

"Mother, Third Sister, it's such a pity you didn't get to see Dr. Lin today."

Song Ziwen brandished his kitchen knife, his voice trembling with excitement: "I've met so many Wall Street tycoons and industrial giants in the United States, but none of them have his kind of charisma. His talent is unparalleled in China. Not only is he an expert in heavy machinery, but his analysis of the global financial situation is also like that of a god."

Madam Song, seated at the head of the table, listened quietly, smiling without saying a word.

Song Ziwen took a sip of red wine and continued.

"He's only in his early twenties, yet he's already got Lu Yongxiang's son to be his bodyguard. If he goes to the south, the future lifeline of the nation's heavy industry will definitely be in his hands. Such a person will surely become the key figure in the country within ten years."

At the other end of the table sat a very beautiful young woman, dressed in a well-fitting Western-style dress, with a noble and elegant demeanor.

She held a knife and fork in her hand, slowly and methodically cutting a piece of beef into even small pieces.

Originally uninterested in politics and warlord conflicts, she stopped what she was doing when she heard her elder brother's high praise.

She knew her proud and arrogant older brother all too well.

She had never met anyone her age who could inspire such sincere admiration and even a touch of awe in her older brother.

In his early twenties, he possessed immense wealth, ruthless methods, and strategic acumen.

The third young lady put down her knife and fork, picked up a silk napkin and gently wiped the corner of her mouth. She raised her head, and a strong interest flashed in her bright and deep eyes.

"Brother, is this Dr. Lin really as amazing as you say?"