When the Avalanche Comes

The first domino may make a slight sound when it falls. But as the chain reaction begins and dominoes fall in droves, the roar is like an avalanche, sweeping everything away, unstoppable.

NLG Logistics network has been severely disrupted for three days.

Panic, like ink spilled into clear water, no longer spread merely between drivers and dispatch centers, but rapidly expanded and permeated, staining the entire business ecosystem related to NLG.

Seattle, Amazon headquarters, office of a purchasing director.

The phone was ringing off the hook. The Glasses, agitated middle-aged manager practically yelled into the receiver, "I don't care about your 'force majeure'! Our 'Prime' members' orders are guaranteed two-day delivery! And now? Our Spokane warehouse has been backlogged for over forty hours! Customer complaints are pouring in like snowflakes! How long is your NLG 'system malfunction' going to last? Give me a definite time!"

The NLG account manager, his voice trembling with tears and incoherent, offered an apology and explanation. "Mr. Smith, we are doing our best to repair it... there's been a problem with dispatching... the driver... we promise to prioritize your shipment..."

"Guarantee? What guarantee do you have?!" The director slammed down the phone and immediately picked up another intercom. "Activate Plan B immediately! Contact PacRim and Global Freightways! Switch all available lines over! Price? Now is not the time to talk about price! I want my goods moving! Immediately! Right now!"

Similar scenarios are unfolding simultaneously at Walmart's regional purchasing centers, Costco's logistics departments, Microsoft's hardware distribution centers, and Boeing's suburban parts warehouses. NLG's excuses of "system failure" or "operational adjustments" might barely appease customers on the first day, but by the third day, faced with the real risks of delayed goods, production line shutdowns, angry customers, and the threat of huge penalties for breach of contract, no large company will have the patience left.

Phone calls, emails, and formal inquiry letters rained down on NLG's customer service and business departments like hail. This was followed by a cold, hard "suspension of cooperation notice" and a lawyer's letter reserving the right to pursue legal action. The long-established trust and cooperative relationship proved as fragile as a sheet of paper in the face of cold business realities.

Even more fatal is that these major clients' "emergency switching" was not a temporary measure. Representatives from PacRim and Global Freightways, like sharks smelling blood, had been waiting with "sincere" contingency plans and "special period discounts" in hand. Once switched, switching back would be extremely difficult. The loss of customers was not a percentage, but a massive collapse.

The financial media reacted only half a day later.

The Seattle Business Weekly website featured a bold headline. "Northwest Logistics Suffers 'Paralysis' Rumors, Supply Chain Crisis Highlighted." The article, citing an "anonymous industry source," claimed that NLG experienced a "rare, widespread operational disruption," possibly due to labor disputes and system security issues, and noted that its competitors "have begun accepting overflow orders."

On CNBC's morning financial program, the host appeared serious on camera. "... NLG's stock price has fallen more than 15% in the past week, and this morning, as news of the standstill in its core logistics business further unfolded, the stock price is experiencing another sharp decline. Analysts point out that this is not just about the individual company, but could have a cascading impact on the regional supply chain..."

On Bloomberg's terminal, real-time news pop-ups about NLG kept appearing: "Reports indicate that several major NLG clients have activated contingency plans and switched to competitors," "NLG bond prices plummeted, CDS spreads hit record highs," "Union denies organizing strike, the reason for NLG's predicament remains a mystery"...

On social media, related hashtags began to appear. Truck driver forums were filled with vague fears and warnings; in freight industry WeChat and Telegram groups, all sorts of messages, some true and some false, spread rapidly—some said NLG had offended gangs, some said it had been hacked, and some said its cash flow had dried up and drivers had absconded. Panic fermented and mutated in the fragmented information, further eroding the last bit of confidence the market had in NLG.

New York Stock Exchange.

The striking red line following NLG's stock code "NLG," representing a decline, seemed to be injected with a frenzy of hormones the moment the market opened today.

Opening price: $41.50 (down 4.6% from yesterday's closing price).

The stock price plummeted immediately after opening, offering virtually no resistance.

Sell orders surged forth from every trading seat like a burst dam. Stop-loss orders in algorithmic trading were triggered layer by layer, creating a brutal stampede of long squeezes. Buy orders? The meager buy orders were like straws trying to stop the flood, instantly swallowed up.

The $40.00 mark will be easily breached.

$39.00...

$38.50...

The decline rapidly widened to -8%, -10%! The stock price curve plummeted like a kite with a broken string. Trading volume surged wildly, more than ten times the daily average! On the intraday chart, the white line representing the stock price was no longer just falling, but plummeting.

In the trading floor (though mostly electronic trading), if any veteran traders were present, they might recall certain classic crash scenarios. Panic is contagious, especially when liquidity begins to dry up. People no longer care about NLG's net assets, price-to-earnings ratio, or future growth stories; they only care about one thing: run! Get out at all costs before it becomes worthless!

NLG's bond prices plummeted in tandem, with yields soaring to staggering levels. The pricing of credit default swaps (CDS) indicated that the market believed there was over a 30% probability of NLG defaulting within a year. This was a death knell.

The Wall Street "fishermen" watched coldly, some even secretly adding fuel to the fire. Derrick, in his office, watching NLG's disastrous performance on the screen, slowly said to his assistant, "Tell the proprietary trading department that we can start slightly reducing our remaining NLG bonds. Also, regarding the loan contracts for the NLG shares we previously lent to ' Silent Wind ' at a high price... hmm, see if we can transfer some on the secondary market to lock in profits. Remember, do it 'quietly'."

They won't openly dump shares, but they'll pull the final straw at the most opportune moment, ensuring they always remain in a safe and profitable position.

The same private room at the "Oak Hall" private club.

Hendricks and Rosenthal met again. This time, the caution they had shown before was gone, replaced by the excitement and ruthlessness of hunters approaching their wounded prey.

"It's confirmed. At least 30% of Amazon and Walmart's West Coast ground shipping orders have been transferred to us and PacRim." Rosenthal looked at the data on the tablet, his voice tinged with suppressed excitement. "And it's being executed under the 'contingency clauses' of our long-term agreement. The price is discounted, but it's enough to allow us to hold onto these customers until NLG recovers."

"Our people report that NLG is in complete chaos." Hendricks took a sip of whiskey. "Middle management is demoralized; three senior dispatchers and two regional operations managers have already contacted our headhunters. And the drivers are even worse—the signing bonuses and benefits we've offered are very attractive to those terrified guys. Talent drain has already begun."

"What about the stock price?" Rosenthal asked.

"Very good." Hendricks gave a cold smile. "Very good. Low enough to deter any potential 'white knight,' and low enough... that we can start seriously considering whether, once it falls below a certain threshold, we can use our controlled funds to directly acquire some of its high-quality assets off-exchange, such as the stake in the automated terminal at the Port of Seattle. I've had a preliminary assessment done, and the actual value of that asset is far higher than what NLG's current total market capitalization reflects."

"Will that ' Silent Wind ' agree?" Rosenthal had some doubts.

"Them?" Hendricks scoffed. "Their most likely goal right now is to take it all in. But NLG is a mess. Even if the stock price hits rock bottom, the funds needed to acquire it entirely and the integration challenges would be enough to bankrupt most hunters. When they get bogged down in the mire, or find they can't digest it, that's when we'll step in and buy the most lucrative piece of the pie at a relatively low price. It's called... the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind."

The two raised their glasses again. This time, their smiles betrayed an even stronger determination to win.

A safe house study on a deserted island deep in the Pacific Ocean.

Richard Walton hadn't slept for two days and two nights. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his hair was disheveled, and his expensive linen shirt was wrinkled and reeked of a sour mixture of sweat and cigars. Like an aging beast trapped in a cage, he paced futilely, roaring and smashing things in his study, which was filled with reports, charts, and screens constantly flashing bad news.

Outside the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, the paradise-like scenery remained, but he had no heart to appreciate it. The azure sea and sky now resembled only a magnificent yet cold prison.

One bad news after another, transmitted via encrypted phone calls and satellite links, pierced his heart like poisoned daggers.

Amazon has officially announced the suspension of cooperation...

Walmart has initiated claims proceedings...

"The stock price fell below $38, with the decline widening to 12%..."

Moody's's has placed NLG's rating on negative watch, with a possible downgrade to junk status...

"The bank requested an advance meeting to discuss the collateral adequacy ratio..."

"PacRim and Global Freightways publicly announced an 'aid' plan, but in reality, it's a ploy to steal customers and drivers..."

Every piece of news sent his blood pressure soaring and made his vision blur. He tried everything he could think of.

He ordered the use of all private security personnel in an attempt to escort and persuade key drivers to return to work. But ABZ's threat was like Ghost, omnipresent and ruthless. The drivers would rather forgo the five-times bonus than risk their families' lives. The few who were persuaded would have their vehicles "accidentally" break down the next day, or their families would receive more direct warnings. Any signs of violent resistance were nipped in the bud by even more violent and professional methods.

He tried to secure an emergency loan from banks. But the bank managers, who were usually on friendly terms with him, were evasive and gave the same reasons: "Poor market conditions," "risk assessment is needed," and "head office approval is strict." The only "goodwill" they offered was to "try" issuing high-interest bonds, but the interest rate would be so high it would be like drinking poison to quench thirst, and there was no guarantee they could even issue them.

He wanted to mortgage his private island, artwork, and other non-core assets. However, the valuation team reported that these assets were significantly undervalued due to the current market panic and were difficult to liquidate quickly. This was a case of using a distant solution to a pressing problem.

What chilled him most was the internal situation. Several of his long-time subordinates became unreachable by phone or gave vague answers. Some minority shareholders and institutional investors sent "friendly suggestions" through intermediaries: consider bringing in strategic investors or "actively seek mergers and acquisitions" to avoid losing everything. He could tell what they meant: they were preparing to abandon him, or even looking for an opportunity to sell him and recoup some of their losses.

The people's hearts are scattered, and the team is difficult to lead. The empire has not yet collapsed, but the pillars are rotten and the foundation is loose.

Loneliness and chill overwhelmed him more thoroughly than anger. He sat behind his large desk, staring at the death curve on the screen representing NLG's stock price, which seemed to be sinking endlessly, and at the urgent reports about customer churn and supply chain disruptions scrolling on another screen next to him.

Cash flow models show that at the current rate of "bleeding," even selling all easily liquidated assets would only sustain the company for a maximum of four weeks. This does not even include potential class-action lawsuits, exorbitant default compensation claims, and banks withdrawing loans.

All around.

The business empire he built through a lifetime of struggle now has only four weeks left to live.

Bankruptcy liquidation? The family would be disgraced, assets sold off at a bargain price, and he might even face criminal investigation for some of his previous "aggressive" financial dealings. Like a stray dog, with his meager remaining wealth and the watchful eyes of countless creditors, would he have to spend the rest of his life hiding on this deserted island? No, that would be worse than death.

What else can we do?

As for Uncle Gong, after that "failed mediation" and the supposedly "humiliating" conflict, he has completely fallen silent, not even answering the phone. His last external support has also disappeared.

He felt himself being tightly bound by an invisible yet resilient net; the more he struggled, the tighter the net tightened, and the more painful it became. His opponent did not show himself, but calmly and step by step tightened the noose around his neck, watching him struggle in vain, exhausting his last bit of strength.

A profound sense of powerlessness and despair, like an icy tide, overwhelmed him. His anger had long since burned out, leaving only the cold, weary ashes. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and seemed to hear the "crack" of the empire's foundations crumbling, echoing deep within his soul.

Outside the window, the setting sun dyed the sea a poignant, blood-red hue.

The lights were off in the study, and shadows gradually enveloped everything.

In this suffocating silence and despair—

"Buzzing..."

On the desk, the rarely used satellite phone, with its heavy casing and physically encrypted knob, suddenly began to vibrate violently. The screen lit up with a ghostly blue light, displaying an untraceable, long, and strange number.

Walton's eyes snapped open, his bloodshot pupils fixed on the phone. His heart skipped a beat, then began to pound wildly against his chest, bringing waves of dull pain.

Who would call this number at this time?

Very few people know this number, and they usually don't contact it proactively.

An extremely ominous premonition, mixed with a faint, absurd expectation that even he himself was unwilling to admit, crept up his spine like a cold, venomous snake.

He trembled as he stretched out his withered, age-spotted hand, his knuckles white from the effort, and slowly grasped the buzzing satellite phone.

The cold, metallic exterior exuded a deathly chill.

He took a deep breath, using all his strength as if to push open a door to hell or... the unknown, pressed the answer button, and slowly raised the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

His voice was hoarse and dry, like sand rubbing together.

First, there was a very faint, almost imperceptible background noise from the receiver. Then, a calm, young male voice, devoid of any discernible emotion, came through clearly in standard English:

Good evening, Mr. Walton.

The voice was so calm, so... familiar. Just a few days ago, he had heard a similar tone on the phone.

Walton's pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints! His blood seemed to freeze in that instant!

The voice on the other end of the phone continued calmly:

"I am Lin Feng."