Young Master Cao declared: "Next time you mess with me, I'll beat you up every single time"

Sister Ali was slightly tipsy.

"Boss, actually... there's a situation. We previously invited several mentors, and they had already confirmed their schedules. They even agreed to set aside time for our show, and we were almost done negotiating the fees..."

"We were just about to sign the contracts."

"But... almost overnight, all of them called to apologize, saying something suddenly came up and they had to decline our invitation."

"At the time, they all had excuses, but given my years of connections in the industry, I checked afterward and realized—we’re being targeted."

"..."

No wonder.

That explains it.

Cao Cheng hadn’t thought much of it at first.

After all, his company was new and hadn’t yet clashed with any of the industry giants.

Luring Wang Haodong over as a disciplinary inspector had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, more of a precaution than an outright declaration of war.

It wasn’t the right time yet!

Who in their right mind would enter an industry and immediately make enemies of everyone?

Only a lunatic would do that, right?

Besides,

The Fourth might not be the most capable, but he wasn’t weak either. He had some standing in the music circles of Beijing and Zhonghai, with connections to back him up.

Hiring mentors and organizing a show fell squarely within the music industry’s domain.

Logically, who would deliberately provoke someone like The Fourth?

But now...

Something fishy was going on.

...

The music in the private room stopped.

Cao Cheng waved his hand, signaling everyone else to leave.

Only The Fourth and Sister Ali remained.

"Sister Ali, explain in detail!" Cao Cheng smiled, not seeming angry—just genuinely curious.

Sister Ali nodded.

With a slight buzz from the alcohol, she found her words flowing more easily now that she’d started. There was no point in holding back.

She hadn’t planned to mention it earlier because she didn’t want to provoke a powerful enemy.

A new company, after all.

Staying low-key was usually the smarter move.

And not everything needed to be reported to the boss—otherwise, what was she there for? She had wanted to handle it herself first.

So,

The Fourth hadn’t known about this.

Ten minutes later.

Sister Ali finished speaking.

Both Cao Cheng and The Fourth had listened carefully and understood the situation.

The Fourth’s expression darkened with anger. "They’ve really gone too far this time."

Sister Ali sighed. "President Ren, that’s just how this industry is. Newcomers getting squeezed out is normal."

"The pie is only so big—if we take a bigger slice, others get less."

"If we absorb all the attention, they’re left with nothing."

"Especially since Boss Cao isn’t even here to make money. He’s pouring resources into this show without regard for cost, like a dragon crossing the river to smash their rice bowls. They have no choice but to guard against him!"

That was the logic of it.

But it was still infuriating.

The Fourth was so angry he nearly cursed.

In contrast, Cao Cheng’s smile remained calm.

Even amused.

Good, good.

Having a villain to deal with was great.

Otherwise, where was the fun in playing the game?

If others didn’t strike first, he couldn’t go too far himself.

But now that someone had made a move, things got interesting.

Very interesting.

See? They fired the first shot.

It wasn’t Young Master Cao picking a fight!

Heh heh heh...

...

To put it simply, the situation wasn’t that big of a deal.

The emergence of Miracle Media hadn’t gone unnoticed.

In such a small industry, digging up someone’s background was easy.

Besides,

The "Golden Age of Entertainment Capital" was still six years away—meaning the entertainment world was relatively "quiet" right now.

Even the coal tycoons hadn’t flooded in yet.

Top-tier celebrities hadn’t developed a capitalistic mindset either. None had set up their own studios or small companies.

They all relied on entertainment agencies for work, at most jumping ship occasionally.

The entire industry was controlled by a handful of so-called giants.

Film had its powerhouse companies.

Music had its own.

Variety shows too.

For example, in film—companies like Brothers, Huace, Tangren.

In music—MaiZi and the like.

In variety—Xiangdong TV, along with local production companies in Zhonghai, such as Tianyu...

In short,

Everyone was happily carving up their share.

And depending on the region, they formed their own little cliques, cozy little circles.

All banding together to fight for resources and push out outsiders.

Zhonghai had its own circle.

Beijing had its own.

The Northwest had one too.

Hong Kong had one.

The Northeast had one.

Even Taiwan had one.

Regional flavors were strong.

And then—oh, so you’re the one called Miracle Media?

What kind of nobody dares to set up shop in Zhonghai?

Most importantly, with so many circles, so many factions—you didn’t pay respects to any of them?

What do you take us for?

Think just because you’ve got money and connections, you can act wild in this industry?

Dream on.

Even if you’re a rich second-gen, you’ve got to follow the rules, got it?

So,

They made a few calls, had certain mentors—let’s say Mr. X, Mr. Yang, Mr. Sun Nan—decline The Voice.

Just a little warning.

...

As for the mentors they’d invited,

Cao Cheng hadn’t been impressed with them to begin with. But since he’d handed the company to The Fourth, he couldn’t micromanage every detail—at most, he gave broad directions.

Most decisions were delegated.

Hence why they’d approached these candidates.

Their refusal was actually a blessing—otherwise, Young Master Cao would’ve had to find a way to get rid of them later.

In a way,

The entertainment industry’s little scheme had done him a favor.

He was almost grateful.

Cao Cheng was a man of reciprocity—tit for tat, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. A response was only natural.

"Boss,"

Sister Ali added, "Also, when I first discussed broadcasting with Zhonghai TV, things went smoothly at first. For a co-produced show, we were just about to negotiate revenue splits."

"But then... just like with the mentors, their attitude gradually shifted."

"So,"

"Most likely, they struck some deal with Zhonghai TV, convincing the local station not to work with us."

"Excellent!"

Cao Cheng was delighted.

"..."

"..."

Sister Ali was speechless.

Had the boss lost his mind from anger?

The Fourth was worried too. Though she often bickered with the brat, her concern was genuine.

She softened her voice. "Are you okay? Don’t be upset. If Zhonghai won’t work, we’ll find another station. No need to get worked up."

Cao Cheng chuckled. "Do I look upset to you?"

The Fourth nodded.

Sister Ali nodded too.

That cheerful smile, that complete lack of anger—if anything, it made him seem even more terrifying.

Cao Cheng shook his head. What do you know?

Young Master Cao was genuinely happy.

He’d "lived" a hundred years—did they think this was his first rodeo?

This was child’s play.

Besides, those idiot mentors? Cao Cheng had never wanted them anyway.

And Zhonghai TV, the so-called "Tomato Station"? A second-rate channel that couldn’t even crack the top three.

Honestly,

Miracle Media’s headquarters were in Zhonghai.

Working with the local station first was a courtesy.

An unspoken rule.

So Cao Cheng didn’t stop it at the time, thinking it didn’t matter. Sure, Zhonghai TV was a bit lackluster, but it was still a top-five platform. And his show? It was bound to be a hit no matter where it aired. Even if the local station’s ranking wasn’t high, the show’s sheer brilliance would carry it, right?

Who would’ve thought?

They rejected it.

Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.

This was perfect.

Couldn’t you feel it? He was practically the chosen one now!

A new company getting targeted right out the gate?

All that was left was for him to slap them in the face with success.

Seemed like the tides of fortune were finally turning in his favor.

Once the show blew up, the Zhonghai TV execs handling the negotiations would probably be packing their bags—maybe even trading their suits for prison jumpsuits and a sewing machine.

The negativity was overwhelming.

This kind of plot? Cao Cheng was all too familiar with it.

Tell me, how could Cao Cheng possibly be angry in a situation like this? How could he not be thrilled?

They just didn’t get it.

Sigh.

Life was lonely at the top.

How many people in this world truly understood Cao Cheng?

...

“Relax, I’m not angry. I just think these petty games are boring. The big shots in the entertainment industry? Their tactics are downright amateurish. Is this all they’ve got?” Cao Cheng chuckled and shook his head.

The methods were weak, honestly.

Enough to crush a typical new company, sure. But against one with deep pockets? Worthless.

It wasn’t a full-on blacklist anyway.

The circle wasn’t that small—could they really not find a few mentors?

Worst case, they’d hire from overseas.

Money wasn’t an issue.

As for TV stations? If push came to shove, they’d go straight to the top—state media!

A great show didn’t need to fear any platform.

Besides, state media was no slouch these days, churning out hit dramas and variety shows left and right.

Maybe the entertainment value wasn’t as flashy, but the ratings? Always solid.

And The Voice? Aside from being nicknamed The Big Business, it was also known as The Great Story.

Perfect for state media.

So, a soft ban? Please.

These tactics were laughable.

They’d underestimated Miracle Media. And they’d underestimated Cao Cheng.

All they’d done was ruffle Sister Ali and The Fourth a little—what kind of victory was that, bullying the underlings?

Now Daddy’s here.

Sister Ali added, “I couldn’t help much either. I reached out to some people, but it didn’t do much. Seems they’re waiting for you two bosses to come begging.”

The Fourth frowned at Cao Cheng. “What do we do now? Pay our respects?”

“Respect my ass. They’ve gotten too used to being spoiled.”

Cao Cheng smirked dismissively.

You know what capital is?

No?

Then do you know what a chosen one is?

You’re about to find out.

After a brief pause, Cao Cheng turned to Sister Ali. “Forget about inviting those mentors I mentioned earlier—the ‘God of Songs’ types.”

“Huh?” Sister Ali was stunned.

“Stick to the original list. Go after the ones with surnames Na, Yang, and Sun. Starting tomorrow, make a big show of inviting them—full sincerity, maximum publicity. Announce that our new show will be the number one music competition in the country, with 50 million per mentor.”

“What?!” Sister Ali’s jaw dropped.

“Seriously?” The Fourth was equally floored.

Cao Cheng continued, “Not just number one—we’ll also ‘accidentally’ leak some whispers. And I mean accidentally. No paper trail.”

“Let it slip that every other variety show out there is garbage. Before The Voice debuts, they’re just dogs fighting over scraps. Once The Voice hits? Game over. The dogs are done.”

“...” Sister Ali was seriously considering quitting.

“...” The Fourth knew this troublemaker was up to no good.

Sister Ali, dazed, downed several gulps of wine.

If Cao Cheng hadn’t assured her this was just a smokescreen, she’d have been completely wrecked by tonight.

Cao Cheng drummed his fingers rhythmically against the table—thump-thump, thump-thump—as he plotted his next move.

A beat that symbolized one thing: every time these industry giants moved against him, he’d smack them down.

They had no idea what capital really was.

And they definitely didn’t understand what it meant to be: Cao Cheng.