Cao Cheng chuckled: "Old Pao, don’t say I’m bullying an old-timer like you. If you lose, just cut the nonsense. From now on, at the end of all your films and TV shows, you’ll have to display in big bold letters: 'Young Master Cao is invincible and the handsomest man alive.'"
"..."
"..."
This felt like a childish bet.
It was downright ridiculous.
So embarrassing.
For a moment, Old Pao was at a loss for words.
Cao Cheng added, "What? Is that too much to ask? If you can’t surpass me in six years, is admitting defeat really that insulting? Besides, using my name might actually bring you some luck—consider it free publicity. Surely you can see that, right?"
"Old Pao, I’m giving you face here. Whether you take it or not is up to you."
"Fine, I accept," Old Pao finally made up his mind.
He refused to believe that out of all the films he’d release year after year, not a single one could outperform Bullet.
Impossible!
Click.
Once Old Pao agreed, Cao Cheng didn’t bother with pleasantries and simply hung up.
Truth be told, Cao Cheng wasn’t out to crush him completely.
First, there was no need—they had no real beef.
Second, deep down, Cao Cheng actually had some respect for this generation of directors.
They might seem mediocre now, but once capital flooded the entertainment industry, these directors would prove they had real talent.
No comparison, no harm, right?
At least they put effort into their films. Even if their works were overly complex or not entirely commercial, they weren’t just cheap, slapdash productions.
As someone who’d seen the future, Cao Cheng knew exactly how capital would reshape the entertainment industry.
The so-called "fan economy" was just a case of bad money driving out good.
In simpler terms: things would only get worse.
All you’d need was a cast of pretty-faced idols or A-list stars, plus a massive marketing push, and the money would roll in. Who’d bother telling a decent story then?
What’s worse, in the coming years, many films would spend more on promotion than on actual production.
A movie with a budget of 100 million? Fifty would go to the stars, thirty to marketing, and the remaining twenty might make it to production—assuming the producers had any conscience left.
In the future, films where marketing ate up 30% of the budget would be everywhere.
So would movies where the stars’ paychecks exceeded half the production costs.
Honestly, Cao Cheng was part of that capital machine too. He’d market his films—that was just business. But when marketing costs ballooned, it was a sure sign the movie itself was lacking. That inverse relationship was inevitable.
This kind of capital-driven model was nothing short of sabotaging the domestic film industry.
Compared to that, Cao Cheng "preferred" these old-school directors who still cared about storytelling.
Of course,
the main reason was that these veteran directors were famous, influential, and—most importantly—provided him with a steady stream of emotional energy when provoked.
...
After hanging up, Cao Cheng immediately fired off a public post.
"@OldPao... Since you’ve shown such sincerity, I’ll let it slide this time. You’re getting on in years, after all. But don’t expect this kind of mercy again. Remember your promise—if you lose next time, no amount of backdoor pleading will save you. Got it?"
"..."
"Damn, Old Pao folded in private?"
"Obviously. With Bullet projected to break a billion, how’s he supposed to compete?"
"Old Pao knows when to fold ’em. Smart move to bow out early."
"LMAO... Young Master Cao is ruthless. Airs their private chat just like that."
"Hahaha... Classic Cao Cheng move."
"@OldPao, Director Pao, care to share your thoughts right now?"
"What thoughts? He went private to keep it low-key. Bet he’s cursing up a storm at home."
The internet was loving it.
And they weren’t far off—Old Pao was cursing, though not at home. He was right beside Director Wang, fuming.
Negative emotions skyrocketed.
Director Wang had a headache. Seeing Old Pao like this reminded him of his own past rage-fueled clashes with Cao Cheng.
Ah, the good old days.
At least now he’d learned not to take the bait.
"Relax, count yourself lucky he didn’t make you publicly apologize. Just ignore the online chatter—it’ll blow over in a few days. Focus on your next project instead. That’s how you’ll save face."
"..."
Old Pao’s face burned with anger.
But after a moment, he realized Director Wang was right. No response, no engagement—people would forget soon enough.
Time to plan his comeback film.
...
...
[Ding~]
[Treasure chest openings have reached 30,000. System upgrading...]
[Please wait!]
[Countdown: Seven days!]
"Seriously?"
Cao Cheng bolted upright.
Ever since his emotional energy network went global, he’d stopped even thinking about system upgrades.
He thought it was over.
Thought he’d maxed out!
But now—
Out of nowhere?
He’d just been lounging around, waiting for dinner, idly opening low-tier chests (bronze and silver) for herbal ingredients.
Over the past year, he’d rarely touched divine chests unless they appeared naturally. Mostly stuck to diamonds, with the occasional gold—mostly iron and bronze.
And somehow,
he’d triggered an upgrade condition.
30,000 chests?
Had he really opened that many?
Now that he thought about it... yeah.
Iron, bronze, and silver chests were practically worthless.
For the past year, chasing X-Elixir formulas meant grinding low-tier chests nonstop.
A rough estimate? Easily over 30,000.
But...
"Where does the upgrade expand to this time?"
"The solar system? That’d be pointless."
"Come on, System, don’t pull an Apple on me. No lazy incremental upgrades."
"Even if there’s life elsewhere in the solar system, what good does that do me?"
"At least give me a smart mode. Let you talk or something."
"Can’t you just tell me the next upgrade condition?"
Cao Cheng couldn’t even muster the energy to complain properly.
The system was as dumb as ever.
Still,
an upgrade was an upgrade.
Better chests meant better loot—and eventually, a shot at immortality.
No downside.
It wasn’t like upgrades cost extra emotional energy anyway.
Just seven days. A blink of an eye. A few cups of tea, and it’d be over.
...
One cup—
Two cups—
Seven cups!
Seven days passed in a flash.
New Year’s came and went.
And the system upgrade completed.
[Upgrade successful!]
Hearing the chime, Cao Cheng didn’t rush to check like before. His expectations were low.
Past upgrades had taken longer—the bigger the change, the more time needed.
This one? Just seven days. What could possibly be worth it?
But then—
When the system interface materialized, Cao Cheng rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
"No way."
"This much change?"
"Holy shit!"
"This is a jackpot."
Wang Defa~~
The system has undergone a major… major overhaul.
The entire interface has changed.
Previously, it was a simple loot box layout with an additional fusion chest section.
After selecting, it would play an opening animation.
But now…
It’s different.
Everything’s changed.
It’s more like an online shopping mall.
Though it’s still loot boxes, there are way more options now.
And categories too.
For example: daily essentials, herbs, elixirs, technology, entertainment, software systems, artificial intelligence, medical equipment, and more!
The choices aren’t endless—no spaceships or anything like that—but it’s still a massive improvement over the random drops before.
Now you can pick a category before opening a chest, though the price per box has skyrocketed.
It costs 500 emotional points per open now!
...
"Fair!"
"Totally fair!"
Even though the price has jumped from 100 to 500 emotional points, meaning what used to buy five divine chests now only gets you one, the increase seems steep at first glance.
But…
On second thought, it’s not that simple.
Because now you can choose the category.
That saves Cao Cheng a ton of hassle.
No more useless junk clogging up his storage space, forcing him to toss or destroy it.
For example, if he picks the herb category now, every chest will contain herbs—maybe just low-tier iron-grade herbs, mid-tier bronze-grade, or high-tier silver-grade.
But at the end of the day, they’re all herbs, right?
No more shortages of raw materials for cosmetics.
So,
the price hike makes perfect sense.
Spending a bit more emotional points to guarantee exactly what he wants?
Totally worth it.
...
Cao Cheng glanced at his hundreds of thousands of emotional points.
Then he closed his eyes and started opening chests.
Time for a test run.
[Ding~]
[Congratulations, host! You’ve selected the ‘Herbs’ category and opened an Iron Chest, obtaining a bundle of Heavenly Spirit Grass (500 lbs per bundle).]
[Congratulations, host! You’ve selected the ‘Herbs’ category and opened an Iron Chest, obtaining a bundle of Dewdrop Grass (500 lbs per bundle).]
[Congratulations, host! You’ve selected the ‘Herbs’ category and opened an Iron Chest, obtaining a bundle of Ghost Orchid Grass (500 lbs per bundle).]
[Congratulations, host! You’ve selected the ‘Herbs’ category and opened a Bronze Chest, obtaining a bundle of Celestial Blue Flowers (500 lbs per bundle).]
[Congratulations, host! You’ve selected the ‘Herbs’ category and opened a Bronze Chest, obtaining a bundle of Frostheart Blossoms (500 lbs per bundle).]
[Congratulations, host! You’ve selected the ‘Herbs’ category and opened a Silver Chest, obtaining a Sky Origin Fruit…]
[Congratulations, host! You’ve selected the ‘Herbs’ category and opened a Silver Chest, obtaining a Nine-Scented Wood…]
[Congratulations…]
"Nice, nice~~"
For the first time in a while, Cao Cheng felt genuine excitement.
After getting jaded from opening divine chests, he hadn’t felt this thrill in ages.
But now,
with the system upgrade, that sense of novelty and anticipation was back in full force.
So many herbs—not just in quantity, but variety too.
No more shortages for the cosmetics business.
Especially the ‘fruitwood.’
That’s the key ingredient for Scent-Locking Pearls.
It used to be ridiculously rare.
So rare that Cao Cheng couldn’t even sell them—output was too low, reserved only as a luxury gift-box freebie.
The whole "rarity equals value" strategy.
But with the system upgrade? That’s all changing. Now he can sell them freely.
And this haul? Just a few hundred emotional points for all these goodies. A total steal.
Plus, beyond herbs, there are categories like elixirs, technology, and even AI!
Cao Cheng couldn’t help but think: this is the real deal now.
The old system? Just a beta test.
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"
'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.
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
