HDRDTH -Chapter 108 Shut Up, Just Pay

The faint glow of the phone screen illuminated Yu Xian’s face.

The message came from an unknown overseas number.

[Dear Mr. Yu, the Grand Wa Empire admits defeat. We are willing to offer 1 billion USD. We sincerely request you to stop the “Scallion-Braise Operation” and the stadium array cleansing. Please provide a receiving account.]

Yu Xian stared at the screen, his brows tightly furrowed.

So even telecom scams from the year 2000 have evolved to this level now? Opening with “Grand Wa Empire,” closing with “1 billion USD.” Not even trying to make it believable. Not even a decent story. And what the hell is “Scallion-Braise Operation”? Why not just call it “Iron Pot Stew Plan”?

He sneered inwardly.

In his past life, he had seen every storm the business world could throw at him. This kind of low-level trick wasn’t even worth laughing at.

He flexed his fish-scented thumb and quickly typed on the keypad.

[You think I need your 1 billion? Cut the crap, send the money. ICBC account ending in 8848. Miss even a cent and I’ll flatten your headquarters tomorrow.]

This card was originally used to buy bait for Wang Dafu. The balance was a long-term 9 yuan 46 cents.

Send it? Fine. If it actually came through, it would just buy shrimp powder anyway.

Send.

He long-pressed the power button.

Shut down.

He casually tossed the phone onto the sofa and burped.

Eat. Sleep.

Li Yao’s hand froze mid-air as she knelt on the floor holding a rag.

Watching Yu Xian’s smooth, effortless sequence of actions, her heart tightened violently.

That overseas number—it was the top-secret line of the Tokyo Intelligence Center.

Not only did he ignore the commander’s negotiation, he even used a single message to casually extort an entire nation’s treasury.

Flatten the headquarters?

Li Yao’s throat went dry.

Was he planning to use some kind of tectonic-level mass destruction weapon to erase Tokyo from the map?

Yu Xian stood up, slipped on his slippers, and walked upstairs.

His oversized old T-shirt hung wrinkled on his body, and his plastic slippers slapped against the marble steps with “pa-ta pa-ta” sounds.

Like an ordinary retired man returning from the market.

Tokyo, 50 meters underground intelligence center.

Sako Marufujī stared at the reply on the screen. The light in his pupils dimmed inch by inch.

[You think I need your 1 billion? Cut the crap, send the money. ICBC account ending in 8848. Miss even a cent and I’ll flatten your headquarters tomorrow.]

The command room fell into absolute silence.

Sako’s entire body trembled. His fingers gripped the table edge so hard that his nails dug into the surface.

“He doesn’t want the money.”

His voice was hoarse, as if sandpaper had scraped his throat.

“This is humiliation… He wants absolute submission.”

The chief analyst collapsed to the floor, drenched in cold sweat.

“Flatten the headquarters…”

His teeth clattered uncontrollably.

“He’s locked onto our physical coordinates… If he can flatten the East Sea reefs with two tons of explosives, he can flatten this place with even higher-dimensional weapons!”

Sako slowly closed his eyes.

Ten seconds of silence.

Then he spoke two words.

“Send the money.”

“Immediately transfer 1 billion USD through the Swiss covert channel.”

He paused, then opened his eyes again—wild, feral.

“And tell the operatives in Beijing to accelerate the ‘Jade Shatter’ plan. Before he flattens us, we must destroy the stadium!”

Beijing, 100,000-seat stadium.

Night wind was cool.

The outer field—80,000 seats—was packed. Glowing sticks formed a vast sea of light.

The inner field—20,000 VIP seats—was completely empty. Thirty-six black “Deep Sea Thunder God” infrasound modules lay hidden in darkness.

In the front row VIP section sat broadcasting officials, military generals, and Lin Jianguo from Star Emperor Entertainment. All were holding their breath.

8:00 PM sharp.

All lights went out.

No grand opening.

No rising stage.

No heavy electronic bass.

Just a single beam of cold white spotlight.

In its center stood Wang Fei.

The crowd gasped in unison.

She wore no gown. Just a faded gray oversized T-shirt, slightly rolled up at the hem. Pink plastic slippers worth ten yuan for three pairs. Bare face. Hair tied loosely with a rubber band.

Confusion spread through the audience.

“Is that… the diva Wang Fei?”

“Why is she dressed like that? Did Star Emperor go bankrupt?”

In the VIP seat, Lin Jianguo wiped his sweat nervously.

Next to him, Elder Li leaned on his cane, eyes bright.

“Good! Excellent simplicity!”

He nodded firmly.

“Mr. Yu truly understands the essence—strip away all vanity and let the pure body carry the rhythm of the earth!”

On stage, Wang Fei slowly raised the microphone.

In the control room backstage, Chu Feng stood straight, eyes locked on the radar console.

Red dots—enemy infiltrators—were moving toward the power grid.

“The Jade Shatter plan has begun.”

Chu Feng coldly pressed the red activation button.

On stage.

Wang Fei closed her eyes.

She thought of Yu Xian standing in muddy slippers by the river, smelling faintly of fish, yet completely calm.

She inhaled.

Lowered her diaphragm.

Gathered her breath.

BOOM!

A deep drumbeat exploded from the stage.

Chu Feng slammed the activation button.

Thirty-six radar modules powered on instantly.

Buzz—

The drumbeat was amplified into a dense low-frequency wave, radiating outward.

Everyone in the stadium felt a sudden pressure in their chest—not pain, but heat. Something inexplicable surged up their throats and into their eyes. Many people suddenly teared up for no reason.

Outside the stadium.

Three disguised operatives knelt by the main power cables, preparing to cut them.

The wave passed.

They froze.

The leader’s jaw dropped. The cutters slipped from his hands and clanged against the box.

He collapsed, blood trickling from his nose.

The others fell silently.

Backstage.

Chu Feng watched three red dots vanish.

“One left not standing.”

He spoke into the radio, voice tight.

“Full output. Sync with the rhythm.”

On stage.

Wang Fei opened her eyes.

Something had changed.

Not performance emotion.

Not stage technique.

Something raw.

She sang:

“Open the door! See the mountain!”

The voice detonated through the matrix without any processing.

Eighty thousand people stood up at once.

Goosebumps erupted across their bodies.

They didn’t understand infrasound or radar arrays.

They only knew—

This voice hit them like a storm.

“I see the mountain—it is the mountain!”

She walked across the stage.

Her plastic slippers echoed “pa-ta pa-ta,” amplified into thunder-like resonance.

Outside the stadium, all remaining infiltrating signals collapsed one by one.

Elder Li gripped the railing tightly.

“This is a war song.”

He said softly.

“Mr. Yu used a song to defend the night of Beijing.”

The song ended.

Silence lasted three seconds.

Then—

The stadium erupted.

“WANG FEI!!!”

“WANG FEI!!!”

The roar shook the dome.

Wang Fei stood under the spotlight.

“This song was taught to me by Mr. Yu.”

She said calmly.

“He said: don’t make singing complicated.”

Jinshui Bay Villa.

Yu Xian slept soundly, drooling slightly, shirt rolled up, belly exposed.

On the bedside table, his powered-off phone lit up silently.

A notification appeared.

[Dear Mr. Yu, your ICBC account ending 8848 has received 1,000,000,000.00 USD at 21:15. Current balance…]

Yu Xian mumbled in his sleep, turned over, and continued snoring.

Then—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Violent knocking echoed through the villa.

Yu Xian suddenly opened his eyes.

“Who the hell is trying to tear my door down this time?!”

Slippers slapping, he stormed downstairs, cursing.

He flung open the heavy copper door.

Outside stood three men in black Zhongshan suits.