Chapter 367: The End of the King of Speculation

The outside world is as frosty as the doomsday. Homeless people are wandering the streets. In order to fight for the ownership of the slop bucket of the hotel kitchen, some people even take out knives to fight to the death.

People living in the upper class still hold parties, wear expensive dresses that ordinary people can’t afford with their annual salaries, and talk and laugh happily in the magnificent banquet halls of the Waldorf Astoria, Raxton, Ritz-Carlton, and Roosevelt hotels.

Sitting in the car on the way home, I watched two homeless men pierce each other's chest with a rusty 'iron bar' in order to compete for a piece of moldy bread. They waited until the blood was bleeding, and then hurriedly stuffed the blood-stained bread into their arms and ran away in a panic.

Maybe he has kids to support, maybe he has family, maybe—

Everyone has a reason to live, whether they are winners or losers, their mood is the same, sad, confused, painful.

But this is the reality, the always cruel reality.

Human beings are forgetful creatures, and time is the best healer.

The tulip bubble in the 17th century, the production capacity crisis in country Y in the 18th century, and the financial crisis in 1895 and 1899.

In 1900, 1907, 1914, and 1921, there were still financial crises caused by various incentives in Europe and the United States.

But people will never learn their lessons, just as future generations will still not learn from this Great Depression.

Those smart guys just need to take the old formula from centuries ago, repackage it, and put it another way...

See, a new miracle was born.

The most interesting thing is that the financial crisis is like a vicious circle, every few years or more than ten years, it will come back again.

People start complaining and complaining, resenting the institution or certain people who caused it, or blaming the government for it.

Then they tighten their belts, cut back on spending, and look for cheaper ways to enjoy the tough times.

When it leaves, the world suddenly sees it, and it will be forgotten by 99% of people in just a few months to a year or two.

A small number of these people are still vigilant and waiting, watching the economic recovery, take-off, madness, and finally the harvest season of collapse.

Every time this happens, the money in their pockets will increase by hundreds, tens of millions of dollars.

Standing in the luxurious office of the skyscraper, through the large glass curtain wall, looking at the countless ants under your feet opening champagne to celebrate the wonderfulness of victory.

Livermore is one of them. His success in the stock market crash made him regarded as an "idol" by many stockbrokers on Wall Street. '

But now the idol is in big trouble. Since the Great Depression, he has successfully shorted any actions in the stock market that have ended in failure.

The original huge worth of 1 billion US dollars has dropped to less than 30 million, and he has been deeply trapped in the money quagmire and cannot break free.

The more he failed, the more he lost, the more unwilling he was. There was always a voice saying, 'You will create miracles again, maybe the next time, and the next time. '

The typical gambler's psychology made him gradually forget his experience and risks, and his operations became blind and hasty.

So a sum of millions and tens of millions of funds were poured into the stock market. Apart from causing the slightest waves, the rippling water soon returned to dead silence.

He has too many stocks in his hands, and as the situation worsens, his worth is also constantly shrinking.

By the time Livermore wanted to stop, it was too late.

His wealth came from his success in stocks, but it was also stocks that made him fall from the sky.

A clichéd 'curse,' people always stumble at what he's good at and never recover from it.

This reminded Li Zitao of the old stalkers in the Internet in his previous life, "All the old drivers who overturned their cars."

As for where all his money went, Li Zitao only knew that Wells Fargo made $60 million in profit from it.

In his private account in Switzerland, there is an extra $110 million. As for the rest, the devil cares who it falls into.

After meeting Livermore for the first time on Chicago's Gold Coast, Li Zitao smelled him, the faint scent of ink...

He is very familiar with that aroma, the smell of money.

Human greed is boundless, especially when you achieve great success and your heart swells to the point where it cannot be controlled.

Livermore is a typical example, a piece of "steak" covered in sauce and full of temptation. There are countless people secretly staring at him, sharpening the knives and forks in their hands, waiting to share this rare and fat piece of delicacy.

Livermore knew, he knew...

But he didn't care, "Who am I, I'm Livermore, I'm the king of speculation."

Then, he flung himself down the street in a flashy manner.

His every move is 'transparent' and can be traced. The predators hidden in the pool waved their sharp fangs, and when he was full of confidence and wanted to replicate the miracle, they tore off layers of delicious delicacy from him.

"If he doesn't stop, I have to tell the people at WF (Wells Fargo) to be careful." Ben's smile is a little heavy.

You can imagine the feeling of being worth a hundred times smaller, what is that like?

For a man who has achieved great success in the financial field, egotistical and proud, that is more painful than killing him directly.

"It's the butcher's knife handed out by him." Li Zitao didn't feel burdened.

Livermore's biggest mistake was to overestimate his ability and underestimate the influence and means of the giants in the financial field.

As for what he would think, that was not something they needed to consider.

If you do business, you must first worry about whether the other party will commit suicide because of losing money, jump off the building, and whether the family will be ruined!

Then do a ghost business, just distribute the family property to your opponent, and the other party will definitely thank you.

Then watch you wander the streets, pick up trash for a living, and end up rotting in some dirty alley.

"Well, he is a good man, I feel very sorry for his passing..." Mamai criticized, the sand sculpture finally died.

go home and have a party...

Celebrate with another bottle of Reserve Champagne.

"30 million US dollars is enough to maintain his wealthy life, set up a family foundation, and a child's college fund, etc. It depends on how he chooses."

"Let our people stop, and then it depends on his own choice." The remaining money is not much, so there is no need to be the executioner who pushes people off the cliff.

Three days later, Li Zitao saw a bad news in the newspaper.

The king of speculation committed suicide by swallowing a gun. Is it fate or the punishment of greed?

In just two years, this king of speculators, who had a great reputation, streaked across the sky of the United States like a shooting star, leaving a lot of ink in the history of Wall Street.

No matter what people say about him is shameless, mean, or a great legend, his life is coming to an end at this moment.

The last 30 million yuan also became confusing because of his sudden suicide at his home in Long Island. It is very unlikely that his second wife and children want to get back the money.

This is an era when financial transactions are completely unregulated. No one would have thought that Livermore would choose to leave in this way without making any arrangements.

Perhaps the long-term tension and failure have already tortured him in his heart.

But at least he chose a decent way to die for himself, and he looked much better than the person who jumped from upstairs.