408: Chapter 408 Whoever sets the rules is the master of Blue Star.

3:00 PM, Central Command compound.

A dozen or so people sat in the conference room.

Spread out on the table were three assessment reports that the Ministry of Finance, the Ministry of Commerce, and the Central Bank had worked overnight to produce.

The conclusions of the three reports were much the same; although the wording was restrained, the numbers did not lie.

No one spoke.

Elder Qin sat at the head of the table; the teacup in front of him had not been touched since the meeting began.

Zhao Jianguo sat to his left; he finished reading the last page of the report, closed the folder, and leaned back in his chair.

"Kicked out of both SWIFT and CHIPS simultaneously; this move is even more ruthless than the worst-case scenario we had gamed out," Zhao Jianguo said, his voice low.

"In our previous contingency plans, the most we expected from the USA was the freezing of US Dollar accounts for certain institutions or restrictions on cross-border payments for specific industries. We didn't expect them to take a sledgehammer approach."

A representative from the Ministry of Finance chimed in: "Our Cross-Border Interbank Payment System (CIPS) can take on some of the functions, but the coverage is insufficient. Currently, only over 1,300 overseas institutions are connected to CIPS, which cannot compare to the 11,000 of SWIFT. It is impossible to switch over all our trading partners in the short term."

The Central Bank representative added: "The pressure on the exchange rate is immense. Our means of intervening in the offshore market are limited. If the depreciation continues tomorrow, it might trigger a chain reaction in some countries—the RMB assets they hold will be sold off."

The Ministry of Commerce's report was more specific: Chambers of commerce from fourteen countries have already sent letters requesting the suspension of existing contracts, pending clarification on settlement methods.

After hearing everyone's reports, Elder Qin did not speak immediately.

He glanced at the red secure phone on the table.

That phone was connected to Tianmen Base.

But the latest news from Tianmen Base was: Su Mingyuan was still in the Bone World, the portal had not yet opened, and contact could not be established.

Estimated time of return—unknown.

Elder Qin withdrew his gaze from the phone and scanned the people present.

"When can he return?"

Zhao Jianguo shook his head.

"The cycle of the portal to the Bone World still has no pattern. Tianmen Base is monitoring it constantly; as soon as there are signs of the portal opening, they will notify us immediately."

Elder Qin did not ask again.

He picked up the cup of tea in front of him, which had gone stone cold, took a sip, and set it down.

"As for the other matters, we will hold the line for now."

His gaze fell outside the window; the sky over the capital was gray and hazy, with no sun in sight.

"No matter what happens, the sky over Daxia will not fall."

...

At the same time, across the ocean.

Washington, the White House underground Situation Room.

President Jack took his mobile phone out of his pocket. Instead of handing it to anyone, he connected it directly to the projection cable in the center of the conference table.

The screen lit up.

The projector cast the phone's screen onto the white wall directly in front, and within the two-meter-wide light screen was the page of a Daxia social media platform.

An account named "Sweet Air" had a profile picture of a cup of coffee, 3.27 million followers, and the verification information read "Well-known Financial Blogger."

The post had been made two hours ago.

President Jack asked the interpreter beside him to translate this Daxia text.

"I'm going to say something that might get me scolded. Whether it's mechs or aerospace aircraft carriers, these things are indeed impressive. But what's the use of being impressive? If you build a hundred mechs, can you hack apart the world's banking System? If you build ten aerospace aircraft carriers, can you fly them to the SWIFT headquarters and force them to add us back in?"

"Our manufacturing industry is number one in the world, that's true. But manufacturing earns US Dollars. Your factories can make mobile phones, cars, and chips, but who are you going to sell the things you make to? How will you collect the money from the sales? How will you convert the money you collect back into raw Materials to keep producing?"

"Once this chain is broken, no matter how great the manufacturing industry is, it's just trash."

After the interpreter finished the last word, the conference room went silent for two seconds.

Jack reached out and scrolled down the projected screen, revealing the data below the post.

220,000 reposts. 384,000 comments. 4.31 million likes.

And the numbers were still rising.

Jack unplugged the phone from the projection cable and tossed it onto the tabletop. The phone slid half a foot away, only stopping when it hit a stack of files.

He did not sit down. He stood at the short end of the table, bracing his hands against the edge, and scanned the people present.

The Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of the Treasury, the CIA Director, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, plus three senior advisors—eight people in total.

"Did you see that?"

Jack's voice was not loud, but the soundproofing in the Situation Room was so good that every syllable could be heard clearly.

"A few days ago, when the Xuan Niao flew over our heads, what were the expressions on everyone's faces here? I remember very clearly. Some said this era no longer belonged to us, some said we should face reality, and some suggested that I negotiate with Daxia. But—"

He paused, then continued.

"As the greatest President of the USA! The toughest President! The smartest President!"

"I will absolutely never compromise with any other country."

"I signed one document. One. Just one document. No missiles were launched, no fighter jets were deployed, and not a single soldier was lost."

He tapped his finger on the tabletop.

"And now, look at the situation."

"Their stock market hit the limit down. Their exchange rate collapsed. Their ports have stopped. Their factories are closing. Their own people, a major influencer with three million followers, is publicly saying their manufacturing industry is trash."

Jack straightened up and put his hands into his suit pockets.

"Their mechs hacked our warships, and their aerospace aircraft carriers flew over our capital. But so what? Those things are fine for intimidation, and maybe even fine for fighting wars. But this world doesn't run on war. This world runs on the US Dollar. It runs on SWIFT. It runs on this set of rules we established."

"Whoever makes the rules is the master of the Blue Planet."

He swept his gaze across everyone's faces.

"Now tell me—"

His voice rose a notch.

"Does this era still belong to the USA?"

The Secretary of State was the first to stand up.

"It does!"

The legs of his chair scraped against the floor.

The Secretary of Defense stood up next, his voice even louder than the Secretary of State's.

"It belongs to the USA!"

Then the Secretary of the Treasury, the CIA Director, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff stood up one after another from their chairs, their voices overlapping.

"The great USA!"

"The great Mr. President!"

The last senior advisor to stand up shouted: "The next hundred years—no, a thousand years—will belong to the USA! And it must belong to the USA."

The eight people stood on both sides of the table as if taking an oath.

The corners of Jack's mouth curled upward.

He turned around, his back to everyone, facing the Stars and Stripes on the wall.

The stars on the flag shimmered with a cold white light under the lamps.

Jack reached out with his right hand and straightened his tie.

He felt he had done something remarkable.

He would make the USA great again!