450: Chapter 450 The Death Knell of the Petrodollar

The private jet of the King of Saudi Arabia took off from Beijing Capital International Airport at 2:00 AM.

Before takeoff, the King of Saudi Arabia stood on the tarmac for a while, looking back in the direction of the terminal.

It was brightly lit.

He had held power in Saudi Arabia for forty-one years.

Never before had he been so certain that he had made an incredibly wise decision as he was today.

Because, tucked inside his suit pocket now was a small glass bottle containing three pale cyan pills.

This was the youth-preserving pill that Su Mingyuan had personally handed to him.

The King of Saudi Arabia did not take it on the spot.

He intended to return and have the royal medical team perform a full examination before taking it.

It was an eleven-hour flight from Beijing back to Riyadh.

After landing, the King of Saudi Arabia did not return to the palace to rest.

He went straight to the royal council chamber.

That council chamber was usually only opened in two situations—a royal coronation or a national funeral.

Today was the third.

At 9:00 AM, a plenary session of the Saudi Arabia royal family was convened.

Attendance included thirty-seven core royal family members, twelve tribal Elders, as well as key cabinet officials such as the Secretary of the Treasury, the Minister of Petroleum, and the Governor of the Central Bank.

The King of Saudi Arabia did not have anyone prepare a speech.

He walked onto the podium and placed the small glass bottle on the table in front of him.

The bottle caught the light, and those in the rows below saw it.

Then he began to speak.

He only spoke of three things.

First, Great Xia possesses a drug called a rejuvenation pill, which can cure terminal cancer.

This is not a rumor, nor is it intelligence; it is something he saw with his own eyes.

At the press conference, twelve cancer patients took the medicine on the spot and improved immediately, with billions of people watching the global broadcast.

Second, Great Xia also has a drug called a youth-preserving pill, which can extend a healthy lifespan by twenty to thirty-five years.

The bottle on the table is exactly that.

Third, these drugs are only sold for daxia currency.

After finishing these three points, the King of Saudi Arabia paused for about ten seconds.

No one in the council chamber spoke.

It was so quiet that even the sound of the air conditioning vents could be heard.

Then he announced the resolution.

Abolish the Riyal.

Effective immediately, the only legal tender of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia shall be daxia currency.

The reaction in the council chamber split into two groups.

One group stood up directly, mouths agape, but no sound came out.

The other group didn't move, their expressions as if they hadn't fully heard the sentence.

The Secretary of the Treasury was the first to regain his composure.

He stood up, walked to the King of Saudi Arabia, picked up the small glass bottle, looked at it for two seconds, placed it back on the table, and then turned to face everyone.

"Gentlemen, this decision was not made today."

He took a stack of documents from his briefcase and had his attendants distribute them to every seat.

The cover was printed with the title in both Arabic and Chinese, and below it were four signatures—the King of Saudi Arabia, the Crown Prince, the Secretary of the Treasury, and the Minister of Petroleum.

All were signed in Beijing.

Before he had even returned to the country, this matter had already been finalized.

The discussion lasted for four hours.

Someone objected.

The reason was that monetary sovereignty concerns the foundation of the nation and cannot be abolished just like that.

The King of Saudi Arabia looked at him, didn't respond to his words, but instead asked:

"You are eighty-eight this year, aren't you?"

The man was stunned for a moment, not understanding what the King of Saudi Arabia meant.

The King of Saudi Arabia lifted his chin and gestured toward the bottle on the table:

"Do you want to live another thirty years?"

The man didn't speak again.

Finally, the vote.

Thirty-seven core royal members: thirty-one votes in favor, four against, two abstentions.

The resolution passed.

When the meeting adjourned, the Governor of the Central Bank walked out of the council chamber, with only one thought churning in his mind.

Twenty-four hours.

They had to overturn and rebuild a monetary System that had been operating for decades within twenty-four hours.

If any other Central Bank governor in the world heard this schedule, their first reaction would be that it was nonsense.

But he didn't think so.

Because before the vote, the King of Saudi Arabia said one last thing.

"Once this matter is completed, everyone present will have a youth-preserving pill."

This sentence was more effective than any administrative order.

The news was released through the Saudi Arabia National News Agency at 2:00 PM that day.

The press release had only three paragraphs.

The first paragraph announced the abolition of the Riyal.

The second paragraph announced the adoption of daxia currency as the sole legal tender.

The third paragraph stated that the specific details of the agreement with Great Xia would be announced within a week.

No explanation, no background introduction, no press conference.

These three paragraphs were like a bombshell.

It smashed into the global financial markets.

At 1:00 PM London time, the Asian markets had already closed, but when the news reached Europe, the European markets were trading.

The eagle dollar index fell by thirty percentage points within three minutes.

Under normal circumstances, such a drop would require a super-large-scale war to trigger.

Wall Street had not yet opened.

But the futures market exploded first.

Crude oil futures contracts on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange had been priced in eagle dollar since they were listed in 1983.

For over forty years, it had never changed.

Today, it changed.

At 2:11 PM, the first crude oil futures contract priced in daxia currency appeared in the trading System.

At 2:13 PM, the second.

At 2:15 PM, thirty-seven.

At 2:20 PM, the System administrator discovered that the submission speed of daxia currency-priced contracts had already exceeded that of the eagle dollar contracts.

He called his superior.

The superior called the exchange chairman.

The chairman called the Ministry of Finance.

No one answered at the Ministry of Finance.

Because everyone at the Ministry of Finance was in a meeting.

At 8:00 AM Washington time, the third-floor conference room of the USA Ministry of Finance building was packed with people.

Secretary of the Treasury Morris sat at the head of the table, with three laptops spread out in front of him, the screens filled with jumping red numbers.

To his left was the Chairman of the Federal Reserve, and to his right was the Chairman of the SEC.

The three men who managed the three most important financial territories of the USA were huddled together, their complexions all similar—ashen gray.

Morris reported the situation to President Jack over the phone.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a long time.

It was so long that Morris thought the signal had been cut, so he took the phone down to look at the screen—the call was still connected.

"Mr. President?"

Jack's voice came through the receiver, his throat hoarse.

"If Saudi Arabia falls, the entire Middle East will lean toward Great Xia."

Morris opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Jack didn't give him the chance.

"Call William."

William was the CIA Director.

Forty minutes later, in the White House underground Situation Room.

Jack sat at one end of the long table, and William sat at the other.

There was no one else in between.

William opened a dark blue folder with the CIA badge printed on the cover and a red classified stamp in the upper right corner.

He pushed the folder across.

"Codename 'Desert Storm'."

Jack opened the first page.

"Forty-eight hours to overthrow the current King of Saudi Arabia," William said.

Jack didn't look up and continued flipping.

He paused when he reached the third page.

A photo was pasted on that page.

In the photo was an Arab man in his forties, dressed in a suit and leather shoes, standing on the deck of a yacht with the Mediterranean Sea in the background.

He was smiling appropriately, his teeth very white, the kind of smile only someone who had spent years in high society would have.

A line of text below the photo:

Prince Khalid bin Abdul. Third in line to the Saudi Arabia throne.

Jack read the entire plan and closed the folder.

"Can it be done?"

"Seventy percent."

William said.

Jack tapped his fingers on the folder cover twice.

"Then do it; this may be our last chance."