Chapter 80: Gaotong's stock price collapses, and the CEO smashes his computer in his office.

Cook pushed open the two heavy, carved oak doors of the banquet hall.

His feet trampled the Persian carpet in the hallway, his steps chaotic.

Two waiters carrying champagne towers couldn't dodge in time and collided.

Wine glasses shattered all over the floor, and the liquid splashed onto Cook's high-end tailored trousers.

He didn't even glance at them.

"Mr. Cook, the car is already..." the assistant approached from the shadows.

"Shut up, go to the airport."

Cook ripped off his tie and stuffed it into his pocket in a crumpled ball.

He was moving so hurriedly that his gold-rimmed glasses slid down to the tip of his nose.

Inside the banquet hall, the air conditioning was blowing out cold air, carrying a foul smell of scorched wool fabric.

Several Wall Street fund managers exchanged glances and put down their knives and forks.

Some slipped out along the wall without even saying goodbye.

The celebration banquet, which just moments ago was filled with clinking glasses, now felt as chillingly cold as a morgue.

Paul slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the chandelier on the ceiling.

The early autumn sun in California had just begun to peek out.

The lights in the Qualcomm headquarters CEO office were off, leaving it dim and oppressive.

Several display screens hung on the wall, their fluorescent light shining on Paul's oily forehead.

His hands were gripping the armrests of his boss chair so tightly that his fingernails cracked, seeping out beads of dark red blood.

"Ding, ding, ding—" The electronic bell for the opening of the US stock market rang, painful to the eardrums.

Paul held his breath, staring intently at the K-line representing Qualcomm's market value.

Just one second.

The line plummeted straight down as if someone had kicked it off a cliff.

The sell order data scrolled like a waterfall, the numbers moving so fast they were blinding.

"Boss... the, the institutions are engaging in a stampede-style sell-off..."

Assistant Tom stood against the corner, his voice trembling like a plastic bag in a cold wind.

"Morgan and Chase have downgraded our rating to 'sell'..."

Paul whipped his head around, his eyes bloodshot.

"Those opportunistic bitches!"

His throat was as raspy as sandpaper; he swallowed hard several times.

The market value numbers on the screen were diving.

A market cap of tens of billions of dollars had lost a huge chunk in less than half an hour.

Paul surged up, knocking over his leather swivel chair.

The chair wheels hit the wainscoting with a dull thud.

He rushed to the golf bag in the corner and pulled out a titanium alloy golf club.

He swung his arm around.

With a whistling sound, he smashed it hard against the display screen that was still flashing the plummeting data.

"Crash!"

The LCD panel exploded with a spiderweb-like crack.

Sparks flew everywhere with a "crackle," and the pungent smell of scorched plastic wafted out.

"Fraud! They must be committing fraud!"

Paul swung the club, smashing it again and again.

Glass shards scattered everywhere, piercing the back of his hand.

Tom hugged his head and crouched next to the safe, shivering with fear.

"Bo-boss, stop smashing it! Even if you keep smashing, the market won't recover!"

At the same time.

Taiwan, TSMC headquarters office building.

Sunlight leaked through the blinds, hitting the mahogany desk.

Vice President Lin Jianye leaned back in his leather chair, holding a cup of freshly brewed high-mountain Oolong tea.

He blew on the floating leaves, not yet having taken a sip.

Outside the door, the female secretary had lost one of her high heels and burst through the glass door barefoot.

"Vice President Lin! Over in... in China... a monster has appeared!"

The secretary slammed a fax document onto the table, the paper rustling loudly.

Vice President Lin Jianye frowned and put down the teacup.

Water splashed out and burned the back of his hand; he shook his hand.

"Why are you so flustered? Is the sky falling?"

He pulled out a tissue to wipe his hand and impatiently picked up the fax.

He only scanned two lines.

His hand holding the paper suddenly trembled, and his elbow knocked over the teacup.

Boiling hot tea flowed down the edge of the table and dripped onto his leather shoes.

He didn't dodge.

"Th-these specs... are they printed wrong?"

Vice President Lin Jianye's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, his eyes bulging as if they were about to crack.

"120 frames full frame? The heat generation is that much lower than Qualcomm's?"

He stared at the lines of micro-manufacturing process data, his breathing becoming heavier.

The words he had used to mock Shen Qingqiu on the phone a few days ago now slapped him in the face like a palm.

"They... they developed their own photolithography foundry..."

Vice President Lin Jianye's legs went weak, his knees buckled.

He slid straight off the chair and landed on the tea-soaked carpet with a "thud."

He opened his mouth, like a dried-out dead fish.

The Americans insisted on strangling them, forcing out a man-eating wolf.

And him, Vice President Lin Jianye—he had just chased this wolf out the door a few days ago and completely offended it.

Donghai City New International Expo Center.

Lu Jingming stood in the middle of the stage, the spotlight shining on him.

It was a bit scorching, so he tugged at the collar of his black T-shirt.

Deep in his mind, the system's mechanical voice sounded like ten thousand subwoofers roaring at once.

Clanging and ringing.

"Detected Qualcomm CEO smashing office, sanity disconnected!"

"Wall Street institutions selling in a stampede, triggering panic in the semiconductor circle!"

"TSMC executive kneeling in regret, Dao heart shattered!"

Those digital wheels spun wildly, the golden light making his brain swell.

A massive amount of 'defense-breaking' points flooded in like a tide.

Lu Jingming licked his back molars, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth.

The foreign reporters offstage had lost their earlier arrogance.

Charles slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the benchmark data on the big screen.

He looked like a soulless puppet.

Several bosses of domestic second-tier manufacturers huddled in the corner, wiping cold sweat.

Fatty Xu sat in his wheelchair, his lips purple and blue.

They touched the scorching Qualcomm-chipped phones in their pockets, their hearts beating like war drums.

It's over.

This batch of chips they had bought at a high price was completely wasted in their hands.

This hot potato—no one would want it even if they gave it away to the public for free in the future.

Lu Jingming raised his hand and tapped the microphone twice.

"Bang, bang."

The dull thud dragged everyone's souls back.

He looked at the pale faces of the bosses offstage and curled his lips into a devil-may-care smile.

"Dazhuang, take the device."

Niu Dazhuang ran onto the stage with a silly grin, unplugged the data cable, and shoved the phone into his pocket.

Lu Jingming put one hand in his pocket and tapped his toe on the stage floor.

"So, about that."

He squinted, his gaze slowly sweeping over the positions of Fatty Xu and his peers.

"Xinghai's new photolithography assembly lines have a bit too much inventory prepared."

Lu Jingming shrugged, his laughter coming through the speakers with an infuriating sense of nonchalance.

"If you domestic brothers feel that the foreign chips you buy are too expensive and too hot to handle..."

He tilted his head, revealing one of his canine teeth.

"Xinghai's doors are always open for everyone."

Lu Jingming gripped the microphone stand and leaned forward.

"We're all brothers here. If you want to stock up, come queue up early."