Chapter 906 - 411: Finance Is the Game of Demons (2)
Chapter 906: Chapter 411: Finance Is the Game of Demons (2)
The interior of the vault was brightly lit, with neatly arranged gold bars shimmering enticingly under the lights.
However, this wealth that captivated worldly eyes did not interest Ye Qingzhou at all. His gaze was directly fixed on the unremarkable small door at the deepest part—an evil aura that made him nauseous emanated from there.
There were no locks on the small door, only twelve blood-drop-shaped grooves.
Ye Qingzhou pointed his fingers like a sword and gently slashed, and the restrictions on the door shattered like thin paper. A piercing screech emerged from behind the door, as if hundreds of desperate souls were howling simultaneously.
Upon stepping into the secret room, Ye Qingzhou’s white robe fluttered without wind.
In the center of this less than 100 square meters room, twelve bizarrely shaped gold bricks were piled up—they were not standard rectangular shapes, but twisted human forms as if in painful struggle.
Every gold brick surface revealed a human face, frozen in an expression of extreme agony.
"Swordsman from the Dongji Kingdom, you should not set foot on this sacred land."
A hoarse voice came from all directions, as twelve humanoid gold bricks simultaneously exuded black blood, converging on the ground to form a grotesquely obese humanoid figure.
Its body was covered with scales shaped like gold coins, with each scale extending a blood line connecting to some economic node in the void. Its head displayed twelve ever-changing faces, resembling the leaders of the Golden Twelve Families.
"Mammon..."
Ye Qingzhou identified the true name of this financial demon: "The Blood-Colored Holy Scripture records it as an otherworldly demon, a parasite that feeds on human greed."
Mammon let out a chilling laugh, its bulbous body shaking and the golden scales jingled: "Parasite? Foolish mortal! Modern economy is built on greed! Without us, currency is just waste paper, gold is just a stone!"
It suddenly opened its gaping mouth, spitting out a tongue composed of various currencies: "Look at these! Western Yuan, Euro, Ruble... each one bears our curse! Every currency user provides us with strength!"
Ye Qingzhou’s gaze swept over those bills and indeed saw the minute blood threads undetectable to common eyes—those were the "Blood Debt Curse Seal," a sinister magic that eternally traps users in financial slavery.
For over a thousand years, the Golden Council has propagated this curse globally through controlling currency issuance.
In the distant past, Mammon used gold as a medium, but in the current information age, it can even transmit curses through the internet and electronic currency, constantly consuming human greed and desire to enhance its magic power.
"Today, end this evil."
Ye Qingzhou placed his right hand on the sword hilt.
Mammon laughed maniacally, swelling up, and the entire secret room twisted.
The walls displayed real-time images of major financial centers worldwide: stock markets crashing, currencies rapidly depreciating, people hysterically selling off assets...
This was the financial demon’s ultimate weapon, threatening global economic collapse.
"You can slash steel, slash the Blood Race, but can you slash ’credit?’"
Mammon’s twelve faces roared simultaneously, the sound deafening, piercing the eardrums and reaching the soul: "Every loan, every bond, is our shackles! If you dare act, half the world’s people will jump off buildings!"
Ye Qingzhou closed his eyes and concentrated, the Infinite Sword trembled lightly in its sheath.
He saw countless invisible lines entwined around the modern economic system—mortgages, car loans, credit cards, student loans... each line connected to a family’s fate.
This truly was a curse more thorny than the Golden Blood Shield, having penetrated into the daily lives of billions.
But the way of the sword lies in breaking illusions.
"The world is foolish, living by debt."
Ye Qingzhou suddenly opened his eyes, sword light surged in his gaze, and the Power of Thought Ability boiled endlessly: "Today, I shall slash these false ’credit’ shackles!"
The moment the Infinite Sword unsheathed, time in the entire secret room seemed to freeze.
Ye Qingzhou’s silhouette split into nine, each avatar posed in different starting stances, radiant lightning shaking the heavens—"Nine Heavens Thunder Shock, sword slashes causality."
The first sword, slashing the illusion of "future earnings."
The second sword, slashing the lie of "inflation."
The third sword, slashing the poison of "compound growth."
...
The eighth sword, slashing the chain of "debt slavery."
The ninth sword, slashing the essence of "currency illusion."
Nine swords converged into a pure white light that pierced Mammon’s bloated body.
The financial demon let out an earth-shattering scream as the blood lines connecting global economics snapped one by one. In the secret room, the twelve humanoid gold bricks simultaneously exploded, revealing the truth sealed inside—each gold brick core imprisoned a living human soul, the original sacrificial offerings of the Twelve Families from three hundred years ago, enduring endless torment.
"Impossible!"
Mammon’s body began to collapse: "Without a financial system, society will regress a thousand years!"
Ye Qingzhou withdrew his sword into its sheath, looking at the dying financial demon: "True economy should be based on labor creation, not on vampiric curses. Finance must serve the real economy, and the desire for money must be confined within the prison of ideals and morals."
As the final blood line snapped, Mammon completely vanished.
At the same time, all those cursed currencies in global financial markets suddenly self-ignited and turned to ashes.
More astonishingly, people found their debt contracts turned into blank papers while bank deposit figures remained intact—Ye Qingzhou’s sword only severed the false financial curse, not harming genuine labor gains.
Outside the Federal Reserve Bank, the military units led by General Maxim had just arrived, witnessing the whole building illuminated by a sword light rising to the sky.
That light penetrated the clouds, then dispersed into countless tiny light points spreading across the globe.
"General!"
The communications soldier excitedly ran over: "Global financial markets just experienced a three-minute shock, but now... all basic commodity prices have returned to rational levels! People’s savings were unaffected, but all financial derivatives have been reset to zero!"
General Maxim looked towards the sky, faintly seeing the silhouette of the white-robed sword cultivator leaving on his sword.
He slowly saluted, not only out of respect for this Savior Sword God but also in anticipation of the coming new era. Over these years, how many soldiers under his command lost everything due to inexplicable debts, becoming homeless vagabonds on the streets.
As a general, he was powerless to do anything.
Now, everything could finally end.
In every corner of the city, people gradually discovered the paper money in their wallets had changed—the minute blood threads had vanished, and the currency resumed its original function as a pure value symbol.
Small merchants were no longer chased by loan sharks, workers’ wages suddenly sufficed to feed their families, and housing prices returned to reasonable levels...
Meanwhile, in the Arctic Circle’s special prison, former members of the Golden Family huddled in dark corners.
They no longer had eternal life, nor could they perceive the power of those financial curses. Lionel Rothschild looked at his wrinkled hands and finally understood a truth—when currency reverted to its essence, vampires would have nowhere to hide.
In the distant sword light, Ye Qingzhou’s gaze had already cast to a farther future.
The Infinite Sword sensed that in some corners of this world, evil older than financial demons lurked. But the corners of his mouth slightly lifted—after all, isn’t the life of a sword cultivator about pursuing the great path in slashing demons and eliminating magic?
The white robe fluttered, the sword light vanished into the distance, one person and one sword re-entered the world.
Three months later, the global Blood Race forces were basically eradicated.
Only Prince Victor and his followers were pardoned and exiled to a special reservation in the Arctic Circle for their major contribution in fighting the Insect Race, supervised by the Illuminati.
At the victory celebration in Paris, a statue was erected for Ye Qingzhou—white-robed sword cultivator walking on his sword, the sword tip pointed westward. A line was inscribed on the pedestal: "When evil descends, there will be a sword unsheathed."
In the distant east, Ye Qingzhou himself stood atop a mountain peak, gazing into the depths of the starry sky. The Infinite Sword lightly trembled by his side, sensing a more distant threat.
"Not strong enough yet..."
He whispered softly, his figure gradually blending into the clouds and mist.