Cao Cheng initially knew nothing about the entertainment industry.
But that didn’t stop him from learning and trying his luck.
A deep dive into modern music history and entertainment trends elevated his theoretical knowledge to a professor’s level—effortlessly.
From the rise of Hollywood to the golden age of Hong Kong’s film industry, and finally to the development of mainland entertainment…
He covered it all, including the music scenes across the strait and global music history.
Cao Cheng shared his insights—a setup, really, to give everyone a glimpse before pivoting sharply.
"Originally,"
"we had a population of 1.3 billion."
"Since the reforms, the entire nation has been striving for prosperity, and the demand for wealth has only grown."
"But beyond money, there’s a need for spiritual fulfillment."
"Especially in recent years, after joining the WTO, more people have money—ordinary folks included."
"After a hard day’s work, everyone deserves better entertainment and cultural enrichment."
"People want better music, better TV dramas, better movies…"
"More cinemas, better viewing experiences."
"This is the inevitable trend!"
"It boosts public happiness."
"But…"
"Look at what the big shots in our entertainment industry are doing?"
"Shoddy TV shows, meaningless plots, reality programs tricking teenagers, awful makeup, tacky costumes, stages devoid of aesthetics…"
"How many of these so-called talent show stars actually have what it takes?"
"A handful with real skills, the rest are just filler."
"Yet, even these shows rake in hundreds of millions effortlessly."
"I don’t know if money’s too easy to make or what."
"Then there’s film. Foreign movies excel in special effects—I won’t deny that. Admitting it is the first step to catching up and surpassing them."
"But…"
"What’s the core of these foreign films? Great storytelling?"
"Are we, with our millennia of culture, supposed to settle for this?"
"Oh my god, yamete?"
"What kind of generation are we raising?"
"So,"
"I entered this industry partly due to family influence, but mainly because I couldn’t stand it anymore."
"I’ve acquired some theater chains and am building better cinemas."
"My goal is to create the best music talent show in the country as my entry ticket into the entertainment world."
"Then, I’ll move into film and TV."
"I’m not in it for the money."
"Profit means nothing to me."
"No matter how much the entertainment industry makes, it’s peanuts compared to my stock trades."
"I have no interest in money."
"I’ve never really handled it."
"I just want to show people what a quality program looks like. Not everyone may like it."
"But I’ll make sure even my critics can’t call it cheap or half-baked."
"I don’t care how much it costs—I want a dedicated team, meticulous producers, and hardworking crew."
"A stunning stage that delights the audience."
"And real 'Chinese good voices,'"
"not tone-deaf wannabes with gaudy hairstyles, judged by clueless mentors and saved by million-dollar audio fixes."
"…"
Cao Cheng went on the offensive.
Beining didn’t dare speak.
Anyone with ears could tell who Cao Cheng was targeting.
But it couldn’t be helped.
They struck first.
Cao Cheng was just hitting back.
Some had blocked his mentors and collaborations with local networks—behind it all was Hunan TV’s Tianyu Entertainment.
And afterward, Hunan TV didn’t even apologize.
Did they expect Cao Cheng to let it slide?
The era of cringe was doomed.
And the age of mindless entertainment would face backlash.
Cao Cheng just gave it a head start.
No harm done.
The outrage was priceless.
He wasn’t trying to crush them.
Hunan TV would likely remain top dog for the next two decades.
But that was even better.
No matter when this interview resurfaced, Hunan TV’s fanatics would come for Cao Cheng.
Teenagers were impulsive like that.
But in reality,
these kids had no clue about business.
Sure, Cao Cheng was throwing shade now.
But when profits aligned, Hunan TV’s execs would come crawling.
Who’d turn down money?
As long as Cao Cheng stayed rich and scandal-free, things wouldn’t escalate.
So,
in the end, they’d probably shake hands and toast.
While Hunan TV’s young fans, clueless as ever, kept hating on Cao Cheng.
That was the emotional payoff he wanted.
This wasn’t just about Hunan TV—it was groundwork for the future. A loyal army of haters was necessary.
Without them, no legendary rewards.
Plus,
this interview roasted plenty of others.
He’d practically carpet-bombed the entire entertainment industry.
But who could argue? Cao Cheng had power and wealth.
All they could do was seethe in silence.
Only a few industry veterans dared clap back.
…
After the interview,
Cao Cheng and Beining shared a hometown meal.
Over dinner, Beining realized Cao Cheng was surprisingly low-key—nothing like his interview persona.
He couldn’t figure it out.
Maybe all rich people were like this.
Bold when needed, humble when it suited them.
They exchanged contacts. Bros now.
Though Cao Cheng’s was bigger.
…
Once the interview wrapped,
word spread fast.
The entertainment world had no secrets.
Even before editing, before airing, insiders got the scoop.
Soon,
Cao Cheng earned a new nickname in the industry:
The Cannon.
Firing shots everywhere.
Damn, who could take this?
He’d dissed musicians, filmmakers, even TV producers.
Sure, he’d praised Hong Kong cinema and some recent music…
But those crumbs were drowned out by the cannonfire.
"Damn it."
"Cao’s at it again—trying to trick us into another talent show scam?"
Entertainment companies and TV networks were livid.
They’d lost big earlier this year.
Now this?
"The best talent show"?
Same leftovers, reheated?
Hunan TV was especially pissed. Who’s he calling out? Who?
Seriously,
weren’t the negotiations smooth before?
Now he’s trash-talking?
What kind of business is this?
Christ.
Cao Cheng had stirred the hornet’s nest.
The music industry was relatively calm, and so were the TV stations—at most, they just grumbled a bit.
But the film industry was different.
These were the elites at the top of the hierarchy, especially those from the Beijing circle, who got the news faster since the interview took place within their turf.
So, Little Cannon (Xiaogang) made his stance clear in the industry.
The gist of it was: "Stop talking nonsense, you clueless rich brat. Think you’re hot shit just because you’ve got some money? Try making a movie yourself if you’re so great!"
Well, that was just asking for trouble.
Didn’t he realize Cao Cheng was capital—a guy with his own theater chain?
What director or agency would dare provoke him so openly?
Even if they disliked him privately, they wouldn’t publicly slam him in industry papers.
In response to Little Cannon’s outburst, Cao Cheng fired back immediately: "Fix those rotten teeth of yours first—you’re spewing crap like you’ve been eating shit. Your mother’s a whore!"
"..."
"..."
The industry was stunned.
No one cursed like that.
Seriously?
A billionaire, acting like this?
Is this what you call "culture"?
Weren’t you the one preaching about artistic depth?
Well, okay.
"Your mother’s a whore" is technically classical Chinese.
Very cultured.
Little Cannon exploded and started trading insults.
The feud quickly went viral.
Even before the rise of platforms like Weibo, fans and casual observers alike soon learned Cao Cheng’s name.
To be fair, Little Cannon did have some fame.
His "New Year’s comedies" had cemented his status in the industry.
Plenty of ordinary folks knew him.
Now, they knew Cao Cheng too.
And that was exactly what Cao Cheng wanted—nationwide recognition without spending a dime, just by slinging insults.
A few years later, Little Cannon would probably master this tactic himself.
He’d go on to attack other directors after his own film releases—just another marketing ploy.
In this industry, everyone’s shameless.
Cao Cheng was just beating him at his own game, stealing his spotlight.
But it wasn’t just Little Cannon.
Smaller media outlets began publishing vague hit pieces, siding with industry bigwigs to criticize Cao Cheng.
They didn’t dare curse directly.
Instead, they targeted the show.
They trashed The Voice, calling it overhyped.
"Domestic’s top talent show? Best team? Top-tier sound design?"—all amateurish nonsense, they claimed.
A great show couldn’t be bought with money alone.
Just because you made a fortune elsewhere doesn’t mean squat—you’re still a rookie in entertainment.
Ironically, the show gained massive pre-release buzz.
This was an era before entertainment wars became commonplace.
This feud was the first of its kind.
And it would go down as one of the most legendary opening salvos in industry history.
"Everyone’s trashing you—and the show. It hasn’t even aired, and it’s already getting boycotted. What’s your plan?" The Fourth was getting anxious.
"You don’t know squat!" Cao Cheng shot back with a glare.
"..."
The Fourth lost it.
Here he was, genuinely worried, and Cao Cheng just cursed at him.
Had he developed a habit of insulting everyone lately?
The Fourth lunged, grabbing Cao Cheng by the ear.
"Ow ow ow—not again! Let go, damn it! Let go!"
After letting The Fourth vent, Cao Cheng finally cooled down.
They circled back to the online forums and tabloid reports.
Cao Cheng just shook his head, offering no explanation. "Just wait and see," he said.
"I’ll show you what a goddamn dimensional strike looks like."
This was really about perspective.
Most people understood advertising and promotion.
But using a full-blown feud as marketing? That was unheard of.
Sure, there’d been minor scandals before, but none had achieved optimal promotional impact.
So, to most, public spats were just bad PR—something to avoid.
Which was why no one realized The Voice had already gone viral.
Well, maybe not nationwide, but anyone following entertainment, netizens, or newspaper readers knew about it.
And that was enough.
Once the show aired, whether haters or fans, just getting them to tune in would mean massive ratings.
And this…
Was only the beginning.
For the next few months, Cao Cheng wouldn’t let The Voice fade from public discussion.
He’d climb to the top by stepping on everyone else.
A fortune-teller once told him his success would be built on countless bones.
Right now, he was just sparring with the film industry. Next would be music and variety shows.
The coming months would be pure chaos.
Until The Voice premiered.
By the time everyone figured out his game, the backlash would be brutal.
What generous souls they were.
Cao Cheng decided he’d shake hands and make peace later.
No more drama!
At least until his next project launched.
Heh heh heh…
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
ts me of treason?" "Correct. The host must return to the capital and gradually build up influence." "Wait—I have half a million soldiers, and you want me to go back to the capital to 'build influence'?" "Host, you are currently the Northern Garrison General, loyal to the Great Xia Dynasty." "Of course I am loyal to Great Xia! Absolutely loyal!" "But you keep referring to yourself as 'We'..." "Never mind the details! Summon all the regional commanders and military officers! We suspect treacherous officials are manipulating the court! They shall march with Us to the capital and purge the corrupt!" "......"
't think I'm that capable, I'm just trying my best to stay alive. I've been kind all my life, never did anything bad, yet worldly suffering spared me not one bit. The human world is a nice place, but I won't come back in my next life. A kind young man, who wanted to just get by singing, but through repeated deceits and betrayals, has gone down an irredeemable path.
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
