The Power of Capital: Behold, Master Cao's Three Strategic Moves

The entire entertainment industry fell into silence.

Not a sound could be heard.

Everyone was stunned.

It seemed they were feeling the pressure of capital for the first time.

Since when did investments not seek returns?

What’s the point?

Three hundred million—how are you going to earn that back?

If you lose in ratings, you’ll lose another hundred million.

That’s four hundred million in total…

What the hell are you trying to do?

At this time, the entertainment giants hadn’t yet been dazzled by coal tycoons or baptized by the later entry of internet conglomerates.

They were still relatively "poor"!

After all,

no entertainment company had gone public yet.

Brother Hua had been striving for an IPO, but the company’s valuation was only five hundred million.

A rich kid’s bank card alone could cover half of that.

This was clearly capital entering shallow waters—a classic case of overwhelming superiority.

So,

the shock brought by these three hundred million was immense.

But it wasn’t just about the money—it was the fact that three hundred million was being spent on what was considered a trashy music variety show.

That’s right.

In the eyes of the highbrow film industry, variety shows were garbage.

Did it really need three hundred million?

How many blockbuster movies could that fund?

And two hundred million of it was just for the judges’ fees.

Even Jackie Chan in Hollywood didn’t earn that much per movie!

Money,

shouldn’t be wasted like this.

…

Young Master Cao’s casual but decisive moves completely shattered the alliance of rivals.

They could no longer enforce their soft boycott.

Their unity had crumbled.

Now, the only thing left to compete on was… the quality of their shows.

"Damn it."

"Are we really going to lose to a newbie company, an outsider rich kid?"

"I refuse to believe it."

Many production companies held emergency meetings overnight, strategizing their next moves.

They reached out to all their connections in TV variety departments for joint productions.

They had no choice.

This time, they had to raise the stakes.

Whether it was judges’ fees, production team costs, or audition expenses—everything required more funding.

Even stage effects and sound equipment needed an upgrade.

Otherwise, how could they compete?

If Miracle Media really spent three hundred million, they could smash their way into creating a visual spectacle.

At this point, no one could back down.

And no one dared to.

To retreat even a step would mean surrendering the talent show market.

They had to go all in.

If they could match the visual impact—even if just barely—and put in extra effort on content, their established fanbase and reputation might still crush the competition.

Besides, with years of industry connections, their network was something Miracle couldn’t rival.

They’d secure slots on major TV stations first, then pull in big advertisers.

If they all worked together to lock down sponsors, Miracle would have no one left to partner with.

This was their way of throwing obstacles in the rival’s path, slowing them down.

Truth be told,

many companies were like this—they might not excel at getting things done,

but when it came to sabotage, they were absolute professionals.

…

At Miracle Media’s headquarters,

Sister Ali faced the slightly overweight middle-aged man before her.

"Director Gong, it’s not that I’m unwilling to agree. We had a deal before, but you were the ones who walked away."

"I’ve already reported this to Boss Cao. He said our local TV station is a good one, but unfortunately, the timing didn’t work out. He regrets it too. Now he’s had to turn to other regional stations—and he’s already found one!"

"We can’t just stand them up. That’d be too rude."

Sister Ali shrugged helplessly. "So, my hands are tied. You know how it is—I’m just the general manager, a mere employee. Whatever Boss Cao says, I have to follow."

Director Gong, head of the local TV station’s variety department, wiped the sweat from his brow and forced a smile. "Ali, we’re old friends. We’ve worked together so many times… Could you connect me with Boss Cao? Let me talk to him directly. Would that work?"

"Fine. Director Gong, wait here. I’ll call Boss Cao. But he’s usually busy—the entertainment industry is just a side hobby for him. Most of his focus isn’t even here," Sister Ali said.

"I know, I know. Young Master Ren, right? I’ve heard." Director Gong nodded quickly.

He had an administrative rank,

but let’s be real—how high could it be?

The local station was just a bureau-level unit.

As a department head, his influence had limits.

He didn’t dare put on airs.

And now he regretted it. If they’d known about the financial backing earlier, things wouldn’t have gotten this messy.

Now he was sweating bullets.

The station’s higher-ups had personally intervened, tearing him a new one.

A local entertainment company wanting to collaborate with the local station—what was the problem?

And yet, the station had tried to play hardball?

They’d practically driven the opportunity away.

"Hello, Boss Cao? It’s Ali. Ah, yes, sorry to disturb your tea time… Director Gong is here. Huh? Oh, Director Gong from the local station’s variety department. Right, right…"

Sister Ali handed the phone to Director Gong.

His heart pounded as he took it. "Boss Cao, hello! This is Gong Changzhang!"

"Hello, Director Zhang."

"Uh… no, my surname is Gong."

"Not Zhang as in ‘bow-and-arrow’ Zhang?"

"No…"

"Oh! My apologies, Director Gong. I just woke up—still a bit groggy. Haven’t even had my tea yet, so my mind’s not all here. My mistake, my mistake." Boss Cao chuckled on the other end.

Director Gong couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not.

But as a seasoned bureaucrat, he knew how to play the game—sweet talk to sweet talkers, ghost stories to ghosts.

"Hahaha." Director Gong laughed along. "No problem, no problem. Boss Cao, you’re so busy waking up at this hour—you should take care of your health…"

After some polite small talk,

Director Gong cut to the chase.

"Boss Cao, there was a misunderstanding earlier—yes, a misunderstanding. About the show, we’re very interested. Even though we haven’t seen the full details, I’ve worked with Sister Ali many times. I trust her judgment… Yes, yes…"

"Boss Cao, don’t reject us yet. Whatever terms other stations offered, we—as the local broadcaster—can definitely do better. That, I guarantee."

"I’ll fight for the best possible deal for a local enterprise."

"So, Boss Cao…"

Cao Cheng smiled. "Director Gong, it’s not that I’m rejecting you. You’re just too late."

"I know, I know. But the contract hasn’t been signed yet, right?" Director Gong pressed.

Cao Cheng replied, "It hasn’t, but we’ve already given our word. And I don’t dare go back on it—the other party’s influence isn’t something our local station can match. No offense, just stating facts."

Director Gong bristled.

Sure, their station wasn’t top-tier,

but it wasn’t bad either.

Everyone knew Tomato TV.

They consistently ranked in the top five, sometimes even higher.

And that was just among satellite channels.

If you counted the parent network—Zhonghai Broadcasting—they were a regional leader!

Couldn’t compare?

Who couldn’t they compare to?

"Boss Cao, who’s the other party?"

"CCTV."

"…"

Never mind.

Director Gong left.

There was no point negotiating further.

Not only was the deal impossible, but he couldn’t even hold a grudge.

All he could do was curse inwardly.

With a cheerful smile, he walked away.

Sister Ali then called Cao Cheng again.

"Boss, have you really settled things with the Central Broadcasting Network?"

"We’ve reached a verbal agreement, but the details still need to be finalized," Cao Cheng replied calmly. Right now, too many variety show departments were reaching out to him.

He’d just see who offered the best betting terms.

Honestly,

the Central Broadcasting Network was great, but it wasn’t an option.

Would you dare to make a bet with them?

Even if you won, would you dare to take their money?

Sure, they’d actually pay up, but who knew if they’d secretly hold a grudge?

It just wasn’t worth it.

So,

the first choice should still be local satellite TV stations. The local ones were out of the question—they needed to be taught a lesson, starting with that bastard Gong Changzhang getting fired.

If they really went with the Central Broadcasting Network, Gong would get off scot-free.

But if he later found out that Miracle had chosen another satellite TV station, Gong would be finished.

As for Hunan TV, they wouldn’t work with them either.

This whole mess probably had Hunan TV’s fingerprints all over it.

"Super Boy" was their show.

The entertainment company behind "Super Boy," Tianyu Entertainment, was also their subsidiary.

Tianyu teaming up with others to sabotage Miracle meant Hunan TV had tacitly approved it.

That left Jiangsu and Zhejiang TV as the top choices.

But,

no rush—

this project wouldn’t start until next year.

There was no chance for it this year.

Besides, Cao Cheng had a bigger game to play this year. After stirring up all this trouble, wasn’t it all for the sake of emotional points?

It couldn’t just be about making money.

Now, everything was in place, and all that was left was to harvest those emotions.

……

Before they knew it, mid-March arrived.

Major production companies had already set up their stages for talent shows, and auditions were underway.

The speed was astonishing.

No surprise, given they’d been running these shows for years—they moved fast.

In contrast, Miracle was still assembling their team, just starting preparations for auditions.

And their "The Voice" auditions were different from the others.

Their sluggish pace delighted the competition.

The slower Miracle was, the faster they moved.

They poured money into promotions, hyping up their auditions first… and the fans loved it.

At this rate, Miracle’s new show was bound to flop.

With everyone else already promoting their shows, all the attention was on programs like "Super Girl." Who would care about Miracle’s new project?

Rumors were also swirling that Miracle still hadn’t finalized their betting terms with the TV stations.

So indecisive.

Rich kids were just rich kids—money didn’t mean competence.

Dragging their feet, taking forever to act—how did they expect to survive in the entertainment industry?

Did they think this was real estate?

Buy land, leave it empty, and wait for the value to rise?

That’s not how showbiz worked.

What a bunch of fools.

……

"Brother Sun," Sister Ali said into the phone, her voice sweet. "I know you’re a legend in the industry, a top-tier music producer."

"You debuted twenty years ago… but the problem is, you turned us down."

"You’ve heard of our Boss Cao."

"He simply believed that working with you would benefit both sides and the show, so he didn’t mind raising the offer to 50 million. Yet you still refused."

"Twice."

"In our country, we say 'third time’s the charm.'"

"So now, Boss Cao has one thought—where he lost face, he’ll reclaim it. No going back. Not just you, but even Old Yang and Old Na won’t be invited anymore. He’s planning to bring in international superstars instead… 50 million is enough to hire any singer."