Ultimate Benefit: The God of Stocks Starts Bottom Fishing, Charge Ahead

This system upgrade will take a quarter to complete.

Cao Cheng wasn’t in a hurry.

Just a matter of sipping tea...

The massage continued, with Cao Cheng moaning in satisfaction.

Honestly, Second Sister was the real deal.

Unlike Eldest Sister, who seemed reliable but was actually full of tricks—her ten-session massage bet couldn’t compare to Second Sister’s single session in terms of time and intensity.

Eldest Sister? Utterly useless!

A moment later.

Second Sister stepped off the couch.

"Done."

"Ahhh~~"

Cao Cheng sighed contentedly. "That was heavenly. Second Sister, with skills like yours, you’d never starve. How about we open a massage parlor together? I’ll fund it, you provide the labor—you’ll be the boss and the masseuse, and I’ll be the sole customer. No hiring outsiders."

"..."

Second Sister shot him a sidelong glance.

His scheming was painfully transparent.

"Four sticks!" Second Sister’s demand was clear.

Cao Cheng didn’t fuss.

Mainly because he was in a good mood, and also because he suspected Second Sister was a hidden gem who could alter fortunes.

He’d need her massages again for future treasure chest openings.

Might as well test others too—Third Sister might work.

Eldest Sister was out of the question. She’d finish the massage before the unboxing video even loaded.

The Fourth? No way. Her luck was too volatile—who knew what might happen?

What if it triggered a spiritual revival or a demonic resurgence?

Then he’d have no choice but to hand it over to the state.

So,

he’d focus on Second Sister and Third Sister for now.

As he spoke, Cao Cheng pulled out a box of ambergris.

A full box.

Hundreds of sticks.

This was just half a kilogram’s worth.

"..." Second Sister’s gaze turned dangerous.

"..." Cao Cheng suddenly realized his mistake.

His expression shifted dramatically. Damn, he’d been exposed.

Second Sister gritted her teeth. "You said there were only a dozen sticks."

"Yeah, weird... how did they multiply?"

Cao Cheng feigned confusion. "Maybe this ambergris counts as a rare treasure—it reproduces on its own? Look how many it’s spawned in just a few days!"

"Ha!" Second Sister scoffed.

That excuse was downright insulting.

But...

Whatever.

She snatched the box. "Consider this the price for lying to me."

"Hey, hey—that’s not fair! This is all I have, I swear! I still need it. At most, I’ll give you half." Cao Cheng panicked.

A tussle ensued.

They employed every grappling move imaginable, but both were careful not to damage the precious box, so their movements remained gentle.

Less like a fight, more like an awkward dance.

Cao Cheng flailed desperately...

Second Sister finally lost patience and smacked his hand away. "Keep grabbing, and I’ll chop it off."

"Come on, it wasn’t on purpose! And I really need some of that ambergris. Leave me a bit!"

"Dream on. You lied, and you groped me... It’s all mine now."

"Second Sister, you can’t break the law like this! This is robbery—minimum three years, maximum seven!"

"Spare me the lecture. Go call the cops. I’ll arrest myself."

"Unbelievable." Cao Cheng surrendered.

Second Sister smirked, her expression more animated than ever.

She turned to leave.

Cao Cheng called after her, "If you take it all, I won’t buy you dresses anymore!"

"..." Second Sister stumbled slightly, her pace quickening. Whether from anger or embarrassment was unclear.

Maybe she had urgent business.

After Second Sister fled, Cao Cheng chuckled and shook his head.

He didn’t care about the ambergris.

It was just half a kilogram.

He’d deliberately revealed it to provoke her—either for emotional points or to "treat" her condition.

Eldest Sister had issues. So did Second Sister.

But look at Second Sister now—already improving.

Probably almost cured.

...

Back in her room,

Second Sister’s face burned crimson.

Anyone seeing her would’ve been shocked.

When had Second Sister ever blushed?

She could down half a kilo of liquor without batting an eye!

After locking the door, she rubbed her chest and muttered, "Squeezing so hard? I’ll get even someday, just you wait!"

She forced herself to move on, refusing to dwell further.

Something felt... off about her lately.

Glancing at the walk-in closet, she hesitated briefly before striding in, as if steeling herself for something.

...

...

These days,

life wasn’t easy for anyone...

Well,

not everyone—just most finance folks.

Especially now, where nine out of ten were "sheepdogs," blindly following their American masters’ every whimper.

These people loved shorting their own country’s markets but turned docile overseas, propping up their "daddy’s" economy instead. Too scared to short the U.S., lest they displease their patrons...

Of course,

Cao Cheng didn’t blame them. Dogs are loyal, after all.

So,

Young Master Cao had no choice but to "reluctantly" short U.S. stocks, raking in obscene profits.

The global impact was undeniable.

But the real crash hadn’t even begun.

...

August.

China’s secondary market plunged 13%.

September hit a low of 1800 points—utter devastation.

By October, it nosedived another 25%, bottoming at 1666.

Rock bottom.

And it wasn’t just China.

The West fared no better, especially with Lehman’s September collapse.

The official start of the global financial crisis.

Game over.

Cao Cheng feasted.

The day Lehman died, international stocks cratered—60%, 80%, even 99.6% losses.

Morgan? Down 92%...

Meanwhile,

using his divine intel, Young Master Cao bagged $900 million in a single day.

Such was the power of a god-tier treasure chest.

Then he began exiting positions.

Historical memory told him the bleeding would continue into next year, but Cao wasn’t greedy.

Better to leave during the chaos.

Otherwise... escaping might prove tricky.

...

Returning posed minor hurdles.

But no big deal.

This era was truly "free."

Regulators and officials soon came knocking, seeking Tang Xin and Cao Cheng.

They wanted patriots to stabilize the market!

Not just a Chinese phenomenon—even Uncle Warren was begging folks to buy American, practically waving the flag.

Useless.

Wall Street laughed while doubling down on shorts.

Cao Cheng didn’t overthink it—he dove in.

Later, tallying his year’s gains:

Personally, he’d breached China’s 30-billion-yuan club.

Sure,

internationally, that barely registered. But consider his age—early twenties, the youngest tycoon.

And he’d amassed this fortune in under two years.

Finance was one hell of a drug.

...

Low profile? Impossible now.

America had already filed Young Master Cao’s dossier. So had China.

With that much personal forex movement,

plus public funds,

Cao’s deployable capital had long surpassed 100 billion.

Every year, without lifting a finger, lying flat and doing nothing, they effortlessly rake in management fees of at least hundreds of millions, completely unaffected by market fluctuations.

...

That day.

The stock god finally made a move.

After a silence of over half a year, he posted his one and only thread on the stock discussion forum.

Poster ID: Stock God Ao Tian.

Title: "Buy the Dip!"

Content: "Lots of people have been calling for me lately? But sorry, I’ve been busy conquering international markets... made a small fortune, only to turn back and find things a mess at home."

"Enough talk. Making money abroad to spend at home—one word: BUY!"

"We’re at such a low point already, what more is there to say?"

"All that technical analysis, K-lines, wave theories... whatever."

"All I know is this is the golden bottom, rock-solid."

"I’m all in. You do you!"

"Finally, let me flex some numbers from my overseas gains."

At the end of the post.

Cao Cheng even attached a screenshot of his overseas account—peak balance: over $4 billion!

The image looked fake.

But...

No one dared call it fake.

Because that screenshot was basically exposing his identity.

Before, many outside the inner circle didn’t know Cao Cheng’s real identity—only a select few did.

But now,

with that kind of capital, there was no hiding it anymore.

Especially after news broke about an Eastern player raking in $4 billion from the U.S., leaving American retail investors in ruins.

The Western media had even labeled the Eastern stock god a 'thief,' condemning him publicly.

His identity was out in the open.

The youngest newly minted top-three billionaire.

Truthfully, Cao Cheng never wanted the spotlight. He’d rather interact as an ordinary person, but what did it get him? Distance and vitriol.

On top of that, the higher-ups needed a role model.

When the elders themselves called Cao Cheng a financier and a model 'New Four Virtues Youth,' the narrative was set.

So...

The authorities approached Cao Cheng, leveraging his undefeated 'Stock God Ao Tian' persona to boost market confidence and steer public sentiment.

The effect was unparalleled.

And given the national context—where retail investors dominate and emotions run high—once a trusted leader emerges,

whatever they say goes.

While the U.S. market kept sliding, the domestic market began to rebound.

Plenty of financial sheep quietly shorted the market, convinced that if even their 'American daddy' was falling, how could the domestic market rise?

At most, it was just the stock god’s words fueling a temporary hype.

But hype doesn’t last—surely the market would keep falling, bottom not yet in sight.

Just 1,700 points? That’s nothing.

It’ll definitely drop back below 1,000, to 900, 800, 700...

So.

Plenty of financiers bet against the market.

Meanwhile, Tang Xin’s orders were simple: buy everything in sight... value investing, long-term holds!

Annual returns of at least 20%, just for lying around.

...

"The stock god’s finally back!

Wahhhhh..."

"The god has descended. I regret everything."

"If only I’d listened to you earlier. I wouldn’t be rich, but at least my wife wouldn’t have left me over the losses..."

"Useless now, dumbass. The market’s out of control, and you’re still scamming us into buying the dip? You monster."

"Broke now. All my money’s stuck at the peak. Might as well rot—not even the stock god can save me."

"..."

Some were thrilled.

Others were drowning in negativity.

Expected.

When you’re losing hard, bitterness is normal.

But once Cao Cheng’s identity became public, the hate died down.

Not just because he was a legit stock god with insane profits, but because his status... even the state media had covered him, with a 20-second segment on the national news praising the financier who’d donated a billion.

People never expected this. Months ago, they were all just randos trading stocks and cursing together.

Now? He’d pulled off something monumental.

"We were supposed to stay down bad together, but you went and bagged a supermodel?"

Not cool, man.

Cao Cheng soaked in the chaos, occasionally replying:

"I know you’re panicking, but chill. Just buy. Don’t trust me yet?"

"I know you’re scared, but relax. Just buy. What do I gain from scamming you? My net worth vs. yours—be real."

"I know you’re dumb, but try thinking for once. The answers are right there—just copy them!"

"I know you’re hopeless, but that’s why I’m here..."

"I know..."

Point is,

the stock god’s words were brutal.

A throwback to a year ago, when life was good—everyone making money, singing, feasting, and cursing together.

Now? Everyone’s bleeding, and only the stock god gets to curse.

But it worked.

With every reply, more people regained confidence and bought in...

Those with money bought.

Those without borrowed to buy.

Those who couldn’t borrow just watched—helpless!

As for those who took loans, leveraged up, went bankrupt, or jumped... well, they knew the risks.

Either way...

Confidence surged, finally with a leader to rally behind.

And the stock god’s net worth?

Tens of billions.

For a tycoon like him to slum it and curse with them? An honor.

Many didn’t realize their mindset had shifted.

In Stock God Ao Tian’s words, they didn’t just see arrogance—they saw divinity.

Stabilization.

Rally!

The shorts’ despair skyrocketed.