Spectatorship, speculation. All the violence in the film is ugly, sloppy, halting, carried out in broad daylight, with real everyday people standing watch. Each institution pathologically denying/abjecting culpability, beholden to whichever proximal "boss" bangs the gavel/hangs the noose. Unified as outside, able to abstractly profit from yet powerless cloaked in the shadow of true capital gains and crashes.
Despite the pervasive, suffocating terror already radiating from each frame, Lam Ching-Ying brutally drop-kicking Roy Cheung in the final reel somehow is both release valve and aggressive escalation, breaking apart the ad hoc local financial structures just barely threading chaos. Stretched, meeting appearances with the same fucked abandon that drives the teenaged characters in the film to cycle headlong into a bus, to burn down the whole fucking school.