70: Sir, are you preaching?

Chapter 70: “Sir, are you proselytizing?” Da Xia made a killing, let’s get a squadron of J-20s first! (Two-in-one)

(PS: Two-in-one chapter.)

Within mere minutes, global futures for carbon fiber composite materials faced a sharp decline.

Excluding markets that had already closed, such as Da Xia, all carbon fiber-related futures on the New York Stock Exchange, Chicago Mercantile Exchange, European Futures Market, and others plummeted to trigger circuit breakers.

However, even after a fifteen-minute trading halt due to the circuit breaker, futures trading, which had just resumed, immediately plunged by another 12%, with ordinary carbon fiber material futures prices dropping to 75 usd per kg, triggering a second circuit breaker and halting all trading until the next trading day.

At this moment.

In the southern part of Manhattan, New York, this short stretch of a few hundred meters was the world-famous Wall Street, where they controlled the world’s operational order through the power of financial capital.

On the rooftop of a skyscraper.

The man, around thirty years old and dressed head-to-toe in designer brands, with his suit and shoes all custom-made luxury items, looked down in despair at the bustling crowd below.

This was arguably the busiest district in the entire world.

“It’s a shame it no longer belongs to me. Life is always so unpredictable,” he said with a self-mocking smile, lighting his last cigarette.

He was a futures trader who, upon seeing the surge in carbon fiber materials, chose to violate trading principles and stake everything, misappropriating over ten million usd in capital and leveraging it twentyfold into the carbon fiber futures market.

In the preceding days, his book profits had peaked at over one hundred million usd, effectively making him a successful billionaire.

Reaching the pinnacle of his life and marrying a beautiful, wealthy woman was merely a matter of time.

Unfortunately, this illusion did not last long. In the market turbulence that had just occurred, his carbon fiber futures position was completely liquidated.

Even if carbon fiber material futures were to rise again later, it would have no bearing on him, as his position had already been forcibly closed to cover losses due to insufficient margin.

Neither the ten million usd he had misappropriated nor the astronomical compensation required by the leverage were within his capacity to bear.

Now, his life, like the K-line chart of carbon fiber, would plummet straight to the floor!

“Are you jumping or not? There are others waiting in line behind you!” someone behind him urged. He wasn't the only one waiting to jump from the rooftop; everyone else had lost everything down to their underwear.

“I was wrong. I should have stopped earlier.”

Why did he keep gambling? When he had made ten million usd, one hundred million usd, he had countless opportunities to exit.

But he stubbornly continued to gamble, unsatisfied with the small sum of one hundred million usd, wanting to try for a second one hundred million usd, and even more money, as if a devil was tempting him to go further.

Now, he had lost so much that he couldn’t even save his own life.

“Gambling addict! You’ll never have a good end!” the trader shouted his last words in life.

Then he leaped, making intimate contact with the concrete ground in a free fall.

Following this trader, another person jumped in the same manner, though he didn't hesitate for a second.

He felt no regret. The futures market itself was a giant ‘casino.’

And as a gambling addict, he would not regret it. A gambling addict, even if they lost everything, would never repent and continue to gamble until their family was ruined and the blood of all their relatives was drained.

It was just that this time, he lost his own life, so he would simply take it.

Half an hour later, all major exchanges announced their closing, and global carbon fiber futures prices generally fell by over 10%.

According to post-event statistics, within one hour after the closing, at least ten ‘financial elites’ on Wall Street jumped from rooftops.

But everyone knew that this matter was far from over, because the true darkness would only arrive next Monday.

This was also why Zhang Yuli and his team chose to dump the market on a Friday.

The term ‘closing the door to beat the dog’ was a vivid and accurate description.

The sharp decline in the last hour of Friday, after two days of market closure over the weekend, was enough to allow this news to fully ferment and reach the ears of most people worldwide, creating immense panic.

In terms of overall market sentiment, their apparent losses were only around 10%, but in reality, they had lost an insane amount.

Because the entire market would continue to decline indefinitely; a circuit breaker would halt trading for one day, but it would still continue to fall the next day, until futures prices dropped to near Da Xia’s factory price for carbon fiber.

After all, the global demand for carbon fiber is currently only thirty to forty thousand tons, but Shenying Composite Material, Guangwei Material, and others are set to put cumulative ten-thousand-ton level production lines into operation this year, already giving them ‘pricing power’ in the carbon fiber field.

It would be difficult to find buyers for their futures contracts. Da Xia was like using a blunt knife to slowly cut their flesh, draining the blood of these international capitalists drop by drop.

At the same time.

It was 3 AM in Tokyo, Japan, and the bustling metropolitan area had long since quieted down.

However, the headquarters of Toray Industries, Inc. at Muromachi 2-1, was still brightly lit.

Murakami Yuunan, groggy from sleep, looked at the futures K-line chart before him with disbelief.

“Nani?”

His expression of shock lasted for a while as he bewilderedly asked his subordinate, “Weren’t carbon fiber futures prices 85 usd before? How did they drop to 75 usd so quickly?”

“It’s Da Xia. Their factory cost for ordinary carbon fiber materials is only 35 usd per kg,” the subordinate explained timidly, bowing ninety degrees. “And they dumped the market an hour before closing, causing a widespread crash in the futures market.”

“Hiss… 35 usd?”

Murakami Yuunan gasped at the number.

A 12% drop was considered small; their physical delivery price was only 35 usd, while the futures price was 85 usd, a difference of nearly double.

If it weren't for the circuit breaker mechanism, the entire futures market would probably have dropped by over 50%.

He distinctly remembered that the situation was excellent before he went to sleep, so how did it turn out like this when he woke up?

Could it be that he was still dreaming?

Thinking this, he slapped himself twice hard on the face. It actually hurt, which meant, this wasn't a dream?!

“Then wouldn’t our Toray…”

Murakami Yuunan suddenly foresaw a terrifying scenario: “When the market opens next Monday… how much will our stock price fall? 10%? Or 30%?”

The subordinate standing beside him remained silent, and Murakami Yuunan dared not even think about it in detail.

As the absolute hegemon in the carbon fiber materials field, Toray Group was definitely the first company to be hit, especially with the fermentation of public opinion over the weekend.

It was unimaginable what kind of huge challenge Toray’s market capitalization would face.

He could already picture the terrifying scene: opening with a circuit breaker, opening and immediately closing.

A 10% daily plunge was just the beginning, until the financial market completely released this panic, and then it would return to a normal market capitalization.

Before he could fully digest this information, his secretary knocked on his office door.

She rushed in, saying, “President, within a single trading day today, over two billion usd of the company’s stock was secretly shorted.”

Upon hearing this, Murakami Yuunan felt his heart bleeding.

Was there any doubt as to who this ‘big short’ was?

A short sale of a full two billion usd meant that Toray Group would have to spit out all the money it had earned from the previous market surge, and all this money came from Japanese citizens and Wall Street.

“Da Xia, you are truly ruthless!”

Murakami Yuunan finally understood the saying, ‘Even a cornered rabbit will bite.’ This wasn't just biting; it was outright killing and destroying spirits.

More importantly, once this market value fell, could it ever rise again?

Despite having a leading position in T1000 strength carbon fiber materials, how much money could be made in such an ultra-high-end market?

Toray still needed to rely on the mid-to-low-end market to make money, but now, facing comprehensive competition from Da Xia’s carbon fiber chemical manufacturers like Shenying Composite Material and Guangwei Material, could Toray still casually raise prices using excuses like ‘power outages,’ ‘fires,’ or ‘floods’ as before?

Forget about raising prices; they might even be dragged into an endless price war, and it was already known that Da Xia’s manufacturing, labor, and construction costs were certainly far lower than Toray’s.

This was an open conspiracy, a butcher’s knife fiercely aimed at ‘Toray.’

At this moment.

Inside the Xia Academy of Sciences.

The two looked at the beautiful K-line chart displayed on the screen and smiled at each other.

“Old Zhang, we really must thank these international capitalists.”

Zheng Lixing’s face was beaming: “Now, all the funds for the H-20 project can be raised directly.”

Da Xia’s profit from this round of the international carbon fiber futures market alone was far more than ten billion usd.

No matter how much money the H-20 research and development consumed, it should be enough now, right? Shouldn’t they really thank these international capitalists?

Hopefully, if the H-20 is developed in the future, they can drop some of their favorite ‘little gifts’ from the sky to repay them for their ‘great kindness’ to Da Xia.

“There are also the interests of the ‘Mysterious Organization’ in this; don’t forget to include their share,” Zhang Yuli said with a light chuckle.

The carbon fiber composite material technology was provided to Da Xia by the ‘Mysterious Organization,’ so it was directly treated as a technology investment.

Although this was a financial investment, Da Xia would still not shortchange the ‘Mysterious Organization’ by a single cent, as the friendship of the ‘Mysterious Organization’ could not be bought with these few billion usd.

Hearing this.

Zheng Lixing still nodded, sighing, “It’s enough, that’s more than enough.”

“Wall Street really came through for us this time. Did they know we were short on R&D funds?”

Most of the money earned this time had to be handed over to the national treasury and the ‘Mysterious Organization,’ and the rest had to be distributed to major chemical factories like Shenying Composite Material. Only a small portion could be allocated as R&D funds, but that was still a massive figure, in the billions of usd.

Previously, he and Zhang Yuli were both worried about one thing: the entire H-20 project needed to be developed in two different directions simultaneously, and the ten billion RMB in funds was far from enough.

But now the money had arrived. Wasn’t this a timely rain sent to them by international capital?

“Old Zhang, isn’t the J-20 from the 611 Institute said to be ready for its maiden flight soon?” Zheng Lixing asked, glancing at him.

“Soon,” Zhang Yuli nodded. “After the improvements in material processing precision, the development speed has advanced by leaps and bounds. The maiden flight is in the near future.”

“Why do you ask?”

Why ask about the J-20’s maiden flight out of the blue?

“Isn’t it because we have money now? After the maiden flight is completed, don’t just build one or two prototypes for slow testing.”

Zheng Lixing waved his hand grandiosely, saying with great ambition, “Just build a squadron of J-20s for me to enjoy first!”

Although this was just a joke, Da Xia would never build so many prototypes of an unfinalized product.

But now, the suggestion of building a squadron of J-20s still greatly moved both of them. How wonderful would it be if that could be realized?

For a moment, the entire office was filled with laughter.

In Livermore, New York.

Still in the city center’s fountain square.

“Buller, I bet that person is definitely a liar.”

The chubby white boy, Parker, said indignantly, “How long has it been? Why hasn’t he come to find us yet?”

As he spoke, his hands clutching the book trembled uncontrollably.

It had been over a week, and that middle-aged white man hadn’t come to see either of them once.

What else could he be but a liar? He made him read three or four such ‘profound’ and ‘abstruse’ books for nothing!

“Parker, we need a little more patience.”

The skinny black boy, Buller, slowly read his book, turning to the next page.

“Reading isn’t bad for us, is it?” he said somewhat absently.

Suddenly.

His ears twitched, and a figure very familiar to both of them appeared down the street.

“Buller, I’m glad you understand that principle.”

Lu Ze, who had once again transformed into a ‘middle-aged white man,’ said with a smile, “Reading only benefits you; it does not harm you.”

He had been observing them secretly before. Parker, the white chubby boy, was a bit restless, while Buller, the black boy, was unusually steady.

This pair of ‘sleeping dragons and phoenixes’ somewhat subverted his traditional impressions of white and black people.

“Sir, we have finished reading the three or four books you assigned,” the chubby white boy, Parker, immediately scurried over. “When can you give us the one thousand usd?”

“Answer the questions first, and I will naturally give it to you,” Lu Ze replied with a smile.

As expected, after he posed several questions about ‘capital and the mass line,’ both of them answered almost fluently.

Even Parker, who was the least diligent, only needed a brief moment of thought to provide the correct approach and answer.

“Capitalist democracy is a flawed, impoverished, and hypocritical democracy. It is a democracy enjoyed only by the rich, only by a few.”

“Economic inequality determines the inequality of the proletariat and the bourgeoisie in status and social life.”

“...”

After asking three or four questions.

“You have indeed read these books as I requested.”

Lu Ze, in his ‘middle-aged white man’ persona, took out the prepared one thousand usd from his pocket and handed it over: “Here is your reward. Keep it safe.”

Looking at the one thousand usd in Lu Ze’s hand.

For a moment, neither Parker nor Buller reached out to take it.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want this money?” Lu Ze asked curiously.

At this point, Parker, the chubby white boy, frowned deeply and asked with a puzzled expression:

“Sir, you’re not here to proselytize, are you?”

Giving money just for answering questions—unless he was here to proselytize, there was no clear explanation for this.

More importantly, this missionary was too rich, wasn’t he?

A full one thousand usd, given away just like that?

(First update, second update is still at 6 PM.)

(It’s the end of the month, if you have monthly votes, please cast them, otherwise they will expire.)