224: Chapter 224 Waiting for the Harvest

Just as President Tanglangpu pressed that button herself, dragging the entire upper echelons of the U Federation down with her, the atmosphere at General Clark's campaign headquarters in Chicago first froze, then completely exploded.

Howard Grant, that old fox who had spent most of his life on Capitol Hill, turned pale instantly, his heart feeling as if it had been gripped by a hand.

The young aide beside him was already paralyzed in his chair, lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

"It's over, it's all over. The President has gone mad; she's poked a hole through the sky!"

However, after the initial shock, a light never seen before suddenly erupted in Howard's cloudy eyes.

He grabbed Clark by the arm, his voice trembling violently with excitement.

"General! An opportunity! This is an opportunity given by God!"

The other aides finally reacted, snapping out of their terror, their faces filled with fanaticism and excitement.

General Clark himself was quite calm.

He just watched calmly as those faces, usually so high and mighty, revealed their most primal ugliness on Eden Island, his eyes cold without a trace of warmth.

He walked to the front of the camera, straightened his tie, his expression resolute.

"Prepare for a national emergency television address."

Half an hour later, every functional television channel and online streaming platform in the U Federation was forcibly switched to the same screen.

General Clark, wearing a dark suit, stood in front of the Stars and Stripes, with a very serious background.

He did not look at any teleprompter; those sharp eyes seemed to pierce through the screen, looking at every single viewer.

"My fellow countrymen."

His voice was not loud, but it carried a soldier's penetrative power, causing the noise in thousands of households to fall silent.

"Just a moment ago, you all saw it. While our Soldiers were bleeding and sacrificing overseas for the sake of the country's interests, and while our citizens were struggling to make a living for their families, those so-called elites in Washington were on a wicked island, engaging in a debauchery worse than beasts."

He did not use an impassioned tone; he was simply stating a cold fact.

"I, Clark, a soldier who has served this country for forty full years, I assure you, I have never been to such a filthy place!"

"This scandal sweeping the globe has proven one thing in the bloodiest way possible. Our true enemies are not just those foreign tyrants, but also those within our own borders—the privileged class that has long rotted to the core!"

Clark paused, giving everyone a moment to breathe and think.

"Washington is sick, terminally ill! It needs a thorough major surgery to scrape the bone and remove the poison!"

"I promise here, if I am elected your President, I will lead the great U Federation out of this foul-smelling quagmire! I swear on my forty years of military honor that I will send every single piece of scum, every single piece of trash on that list to court, make them kneel before you, and accept the judgment of the people!"

"I will lead you, with iron and blood, to cleanse this country!"

As his voice fell.

The entire U Federation completely exploded.

On the streets of countless cities, citizens spontaneously walked out of their homes, holding their phones high, the screens playing General Clark's speech.

Anger was ignited.

General Clark's nationwide public approval rating soared from fifty percent to seventy-two percent in just ten minutes.

This was a number never before seen in the history of U Federation elections.

Meanwhile, at the Morgan estate.

In the living room, the atmosphere was as oppressive as a tomb.

Old Morgan had just finished injecting the downgraded version of the Eternal serum, and his physical functions had only just recovered to the peak state of a fifty-year-old.

At this moment, he was staring fixedly at the footage looping on the holographic screen.

It was a recording of him in his youth on Eden Island, partying while holding two blondes.

"Bang!"

A loud noise.

He raised a foot and kicked the coffee table in front of him, carved from a single piece of rosewood, until it shattered into pieces.

Wood splinters flew everywhere.

"President Tanglangpu! That damned crazy woman!"

Old Morgan's chest heaved violently, his heart, which had just regained its vitality, beating wildly.

Beside him, Old Rockefeller was completely slumped on the sofa, trembling all over.

The crystal whiskey glass in his hand slipped onto the expensive Persian rug, soaking a large area with amber liquid, but he didn't notice at all.

"It's over, it's all over!" He stammered, his eyes unfocused. "Our greatest secret, the decency and dignity that our family spent generations building, has all been burned away by that crazy woman!"

"Shut up!"

Old Morgan forced himself to calm down, his bloodshot eyes flashing with the light of a viper.

He grabbed the red encrypted phone on the table and roared with all his might at the other end of the line.

"Use all our resources! All our cash! All our connections! Everything!"

"Contact all the top executives at Google, Facebook, and Twitter immediately! Have their servers disconnected from the internet at the physical level! I don't care what methods you use—bribe them, threaten them, or just blow up their data centers! I want these damned videos to completely disappear from the internet on this planet within twelve hours!"

His voice was hoarse and crazy.

"And those media outlets that dare to report this! Either make them shut up, or make their owners, along with their families, disappear forever!"

Hanging up the phone, he immediately dialed another number, a sequence only a few people knew.

"It's me. Initiate the 'Purification Protocol', highest level, Omega class!"

"Take care of everyone related to the Eden Island project—I mean everyone! From waiters to gardeners, from suppliers to peripheral security, leave no one, clean them all up! I don't want to find anyone in this world who knows that the island exists after twenty-four hours!"

Old Rockefeller finally reacted as well; with trembling hands, he picked up his own phone and began to mobilize the vast power hidden in the shadows by the Rockefeller Family.

Wall Street, Alan Fisher's private trading room.

On the huge circular screen, countless red and green curves representing capital flows were jumping frantically at an unprecedented frequency, forming a waterfall.

Alan Fisher stood before the screen, holding a cup of black coffee, his expression calm, excitement in his eyes.

His top traders were all dumbfounded, staring fixedly at the anomalies on the screen, forgetting even to breathe.

"My God! The Morgan family's cash flow is being frantically withdrawn! The scale exceeds any financial crisis in history!"

"And Rockefeller! They are dumping short-term bonds and all non-core assets regardless of the cost! They are cutting their own arteries to stop the bleeding for the whole body!"

"With this scale of capital mobilization, are they trying to buy a country? No, they are fighting a world war without smoke!"

Alan ignored the exclamations of his subordinates; he simply connected to the encrypted line leading directly to Umbrella Headquarters.

"Boss." His voice carried a hint of excitement.

"They've started cutting their own flesh."

"According to preliminary estimates from our data models, to extinguish this fire, the Morgan and Rockefeller families will need to withdraw over 500 billion USD in cash from the global financial market within the next twenty-four hours."

On the other end of the line came Chen Feng's voice, carrying a hint of a smile, as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

"Only 500 billion?"

"It seems their blood hasn't flowed enough yet."

Alan was stunned for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile.

Only his boss would think of 500 billion USD as a number that could be described with the word "only."

"Boss, do you need us to do anything? Now is the best time to short them. I assure you, as long as we make a move, we can definitely make them experience a real hemorrhage."

"No."

Chen Feng's voice remained flat but carried an unquestionable decisiveness.

"Watch quietly."

"In the game of dogs biting dogs, we just need to buy a ticket and be a qualified spectator."

"When they have bled their last drop of blood, we will go in and calmly clean up the battlefield."