Chapter 646: Fear from the Depths of the Soul

As they spoke, the convoy arrived at the hotel's main entrance.
As is customary, the Bilderberg Conference changes cities annually, typically booking an entire top-tier hotel or resort.
During the conference, even a fly within a five-mile radius requires identification; the security level is so high it's as if an alien queen is being incubated inside.
After all, so many important figures gather here; the death of any one of them could trigger a stock market earthquake.
The car doors opened.
First to step out was Huang Fengwen, the nominal chairman of Fanghuan Group, who was now adjusting his tie like a playful old man.
Immediately afterward, the young figure who kept the world's elite up at night—Su Hao—stepped out of the car.
"This security level is practically like they're bringing the entire US military here."
Huang Fengwen glanced around at the heavily armed special agents and couldn't help but scoff.
"With this setup, anyone who didn't know better would think aliens were about to invade Earth."
"After all, this is a bit special. I heard the US president is coming too, so for safety reasons, the security level is naturally at its maximum."
Su Hao explained casually.
“Ha, that old man…” Huang Fengwen seemed to have thought of something amusing.
“Honestly, even now I still feel this world is full of magical realism absurdity.
The president of the United States, is actually the main healer of our guild's second raid group.
Is there some kind of bug in this world?”
“But, I heard he's been online less lately?”
“Yeah, what can you do? When he first joined the guild, he was a crippled duck with no real power.
He was so bored he could spend all day fishing in the game and bragging in the voice chat.
Now that he's finally regained power, he's busy as a beggar.
He can't even finish his daily quests, how can he have time to run dungeons with us?
Sigh, at his age, it's really tough on him.”
Huang Fengwen sighed, looking utterly pitiful.
Su Hao was actually quite enjoying this election.
The plot development was more exciting than a script written by a Hollywood screenwriter on three pounds of hallucinogens.
Assassinations, infighting, scandals…
Unpredictable “black swan” events kept popping up like they were free, turning the election into a brutal battle royale.
“By the way, what’s that former president, the one who failed so miserably, been doing lately?” Su Hao asked casually.
“Who knows? Probably playing golf in the Florida sun, and maybe venting on social media.” Huang Fengwen shrugged.
Su Hao stroked his chin, lost in thought.
If he had actually been elected, the world would likely have changed even more surreally.
Su Hao was even a little curious about what that timeline would have been like.
“That guy campaigned by saying he’d crush all the countries’ knees with a coffin-like club.
If he really came to power, he’d probably just become the world’s biggest gangster extorting protection money.” Huang Fengwen quipped.
Of course, all of this hypothetical is meaningless now.
History has no “what ifs.”
Because Fanghuan Investment had already, at this point in time, used absolute power to suppress all variables.
The former president wants to take over?
In this world where Su Hao is in charge, it's absolutely impossible.
"Welcome, Chairman Huang, Chairman Su."
A waiter respectfully pushed open the heavy oak doors of the banquet hall.
Su Hao and Huang Fengwen straightened their suits and stepped into the opulent hall.
The hall was already filled with the glittering scent of fine clothes and the insincere, enthusiastic chatter characteristic of high society.
In this enclosed space, tycoons, controlling trillions of dollars globally and dressed in expensive bespoke suits, were exchanging business cards and bargaining chips with feigned elegance, raising crystal glasses.
The air was thick with the scent of money and desire.
However.
The instant Su Hao and Huang Fengwen appeared in the doorway.
It was as if an invisible hand had instantly gripped everyone's throats.
The once bustling, marketplace-like banquet hall fell into a deathly silence.
Even the popping of champagne bubbles seemed jarring and deafening.
Those tycoons who usually wielded immense power on Wall Street, those politicians who spoke eloquently in the European Parliament, now resembled statues under Medusa's gaze, even their breathing becoming cautious.
Hundreds of eyes were fixed on them, focused on the two seemingly harmless Eastern men at the door.
There was no applause, no small talk.
Only fear.
The shudder etched deep into the genes of a herbivore encountering an ancient Tyrannosaurus Rex deep in the jungle.
The air became thick and heavy, as if filled with mercury.
“Hey, bro,” Huang Fengwen said in a low voice, his lips twitching,
“This atmosphere is weird. It feels like we’ve walked into a zombie horde in Resident Evil.”
“Brother Huang, be confident, drop the ‘feels like.’”
Su Hao smiled slightly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.
"The way they looked at us was like they were enemies who had dug up their ancestral graves."
"Did we do something so despicable?"
"More than that. Think about what we did during this financial crisis.
These people used to be the sickles, harvesting the world's a metaphor for easily exploited people."
Su Hao said casually,
"Then we appeared out of nowhere, like a combine harvester uprooting those sickles and crushing them.
Our thirty trillion yuan entered the market, and in the end, we swindled away a terrifying three hundred trillion yuan of wealth…
Guess whose pockets that money was originally in?
In other words, we stripped everyone present of their underwear and used them as rags.
Do you think they'd look at us with any respect?"
Huang Fengwen suddenly understood.
The capital market is indeed a meat grinder.
The law of the jungle is the only rule here; so-called morality and rules are nothing more than shrouds woven by the strong for the weak.
When a true prehistoric behemoth invades a sheepfold, the sheep are utterly humiliated, trembling and silent, even their right to bleat is taken away.
These so-called elites, ruthless wolves who devour people without spitting out the bones, finally experienced what it was like to be "harvested"—
the despair of being uprooted and squeezed dry to the last drop of juice!
Do they hate it? Of course they hate it.
Are they afraid? Absolutely, they are terrified.
As Su Hao followed Huang Fengwen through the crowd, the atmosphere around them underwent a qualitative change.
Those arrogant and powerful figures, who usually held sway and could even decide the fate of a small nation, were now frozen in place, not daring to breathe.
Su Hao merely glanced around casually.
His gaze wasn't fierce; it even carried a hint of gentleness.
But wherever his gaze fell, those usually haughty tycoons and politicians couldn't help but lower their heads, refusing to meet his eyes.
Before this true "King of the World," they were like trembling commoners submitting to a tyrant.
Although a few bolder ones occasionally tried to approach and greet him, under Su Hao's ambiguous gaze, their legs buckled like noodles before they even took two steps.
That wasn't politeness; it was fear from the depths of their souls!