Bowen sat in front of the computer, holding a cigarette in his hand. The cigarette was almost burnt out. The ashtray next to him was full of cigarette butts.

"It seems that something is wrong..." He muttered again, stretching out his tongue and licking his cracked lips.

I took a deep breath and whispered, "There's something wrong. It's been four days.

After the press conference that day, we immediately launched an attack on the stock market.

Burn sold his stocks, which he had previously hoarded with anonymous accounts, and smashed them out. Within half a day, my stock dropped from 150 million to about 80 million. After a brief wait...