In the end,
the matter of whether Ren Fanxing would step back from frontline duties or resign remained unresolved.
Truth be told, Young Master Cao wasn’t actually worried about anything.
Setting aside Ren Fanxing’s capabilities, even if something unfortunate were to happen, Young Master Cao could bring her back to life.
The Revival Pill was no joke.
This thing completely defied the rules.
Moreover, Young Master Cao still had a Resurrection Card in his possession—a true divine artifact with zero side effects.
……
After dinner,
the family gathered to watch TV, with Tang Xin holding the little "gas tank" (a term of endearment for the baby) and playing with the little one.
Cao Cheng sat between his second sister and Tang Xin.
Ren Fanxing discreetly nudged Young Master Cao with her long legs—a subtle movement only Tang Xin, seated across from Cao Cheng, noticed.
Ren Fanxing whispered, "You don’t really want me to keep working as a police officer, do you?"
Cao Cheng chuckled. "I was just going along with Mom’s words. Honestly, you can do whatever you want—just make sure to stay safe."
Hearing this, warmth flooded Ren Fanxing’s heart.
She had been worried that Cao Cheng wouldn’t support her career, and she didn’t want to argue with him over it.
But she truly cared about her profession.
Now that she had Cao Cheng’s approval, she felt fearless.
The frustration that had built up over the past few days instantly melted away.
"Want a drink?"
"..."
……
Before they knew it, it was Chinese New Year.
Business partners came in droves to deliver gifts, turning the household into a bustling hub of guests.
This year was different from previous ones.
In the past, Ren's mother had handled all the visitors.
But this year marked her official retreat from the spotlight, with the eldest sister taking over all responsibilities.
From this year onward, the eldest sister formally assumed control of the Ren Group and the family’s financial power.
And she carried herself with authority.
This year, the visitors weren’t just locals—many came from out of town, especially bosses from the cosmetics industry, including overseas representatives stationed in China.
It was a scene reminiscent of "all nations paying tribute."
Paul himself made an appearance,
bringing along his mixed-race child and greeting everyone with cheek kisses—much to the second sister’s visible irritation.
Tang Xin, however, remained poised and invited the little one to chat.
Meanwhile, Cao Cheng and Paul retreated to the study.
Under Paul’s maneuvering, L'Oréal had become Young Master Cao’s company.
Paul himself held a 9% stake,
while Young Master Cao owned 40%.
Through a series of shell companies and layered holdings, a hidden identity controlled another 30% of L'Oréal.
After a year of maneuvering, Young Master Cao had already profited over 10 billion from L'Oréal alone.
The wild swings in the stock market—first a plunge, then a surge—had multiplied his net worth several times over, not to mention the intrinsic value of his equity.
Paul’s visit served three purposes:
First, for the "medicine" (likely referring to business deals or favors).
Second, to reaffirm his loyalty.
And third, to discuss how to leverage L'Oréal’s global framework to dominate the cosmetics market worldwide.
……
After the New Year celebrations,
Tang Xin finally returned to Hong Kong.
When she left, Cao Cheng was reluctant to see her go.
He blamed Ren Fanxing.
For the past few days, the two women had shared a room, strictly barring Young Master Cao from entering—especially at night, as if they feared he’d try something.
What could Young Master Cao possibly do?
Was such caution really necessary?
This was pure distrust.
Between a couple—no, since they were technically just dating—distrust was the worst taboo.
Young Master Cao had even promised not to make any moves, yet they still didn’t believe him.
Were they really guarding against a gentleman?
(ˉ▽￣～) Whatever!
In short,
Young Master Cao had spent those days frustrated. He’d thought sharing a living space might open up some opportunities.
Not that he intended to do anything, of course.
He was a gentleman, after all.
What could a true hero possibly do?
He just didn’t like sleeping alone and had hoped to have someone on either side for protection.
Alas, that wish remained unfulfilled.
The road ahead was long and arduous.
……
After Tang Xin left for Hong Kong to wrap up her affairs,
the second sister also resumed her duties and returned to work.
Before they knew it, February arrived.
The European debt crisis escalated…
Reluctantly, the European Union reconvened to discuss another bailout plan.
This time, they approved a second round of aid for Greece—totaling 130 billion euros—to prevent a disorderly default.
Before this, however, Cao Cheng had already withdrawn all his assets from Europe.
Instead, he doubled down on shorting gold in the commodities market while simultaneously going long on the U.S. dollar in forex.
A two-pronged harvest!
These strategies were all part of Young Master Cao’s master plan, executed by Tang Xin and a team of professional traders.
The money kept growing, turning into pure digits on a screen.
But it still wasn’t enough…
When it came to funding scientific research, even this fortune fell short.
……
In March,
Wall Street dropped a bombshell—directly targeting Young Master Cao.
"The Financial Bandit Strikes Again: Swindling Over 15 Billion from the European Crisis!"
The report emerged after Wall Street firms audited their books and discovered a massive discrepancy.
At first, they assumed it was the work of a fellow insider.
After all, Wall Street stuck together when it came to external threats.
They’d all toasted their collective victory over Europe.
But when they reconvened to tally their profits, they found a 15-billion-dollar hole.
Each side thought the other had pocketed the money—only to realize none of them had.
Some funds operated in the shadows, their methods untraceable.
All they knew was that money had moved—but not who was behind it.
After a month of digging, they traced the flow to Hong Kong in the East.
One thing led to another,
and soon, a terrible suspicion took hold.
Further investigation confirmed it was Young Master Cao.
And when they crunched the numbers?
Damn.
He’d out-earned most of them.
That was unacceptable.
So they slapped him with accusations:
First, market manipulation.
Second, insider trading.
In short, they painted Young Master Cao as a mastermind who spread false information, colluded to manipulate markets, and exploited undisclosed intel—like knowing about the EU’s bailout plans in advance.
In any country, trading on such privileged information was illegal.
……
The scandal catapulted Young Master Cao’s name back into global headlines.
Unlike last time—when his fame was limited to Wall Street and the East during the global financial crisis—this time, Europe knew him too.
The Europeans had already been burned by Wall Street, but since those were "old money" dynasties, they’d swallowed their pride.
But who the hell was Cao Cheng?
After the cosmetics industry fiasco, Europe had already taken a hit. Did they think France was some kind of chicken, ready to be plucked at will?
If Wall Street wanted a piece, fine—they could stomach that.
But this guy?
No way.
Soon, European institutions joined the chorus, denouncing the "financial bandit" and amplifying Young Master Cao’s infamy.
Some even called for national-level investigations and asset freezes.
……
Of course,
the East wasn’t idle either.
Long-time fans of Young Master Cao’s stock market prowess flocked to his Weibo,
pleading for guidance, as if he were some kind of financial messiah.
Young Master Cao hadn’t updated his stock forum in a long time.
Many people missed the days when he was active—even if plenty didn’t believe him back then, at least it was lively, wasn’t it?
What’s more, after carefully analyzing his words later, everyone realized Young Master Cao’s credibility had only grown.
Starting with a million in capital, he had now entered the global market, achieving remarkable success—racking up over ten billion euros in profits.
Converted at the current exchange rate, that was well over a hundred billion in Chinese yuan.
And this year’s domestic rich list? The second-wealthiest person’s net worth paled in comparison.
Young Master Cao had left everyone far behind; those trailing him couldn’t even see his taillights anymore.
……
As his fame skyrocketed,
Cao Cheng received an overwhelming influx of emotional energy daily. Honestly, he had to thank those foreign fools.
Without them, he wouldn’t have harvested so much emotional energy.
Had they not exposed his achievements themselves, Cao Cheng would’ve felt awkward boasting—it would’ve come off as too forced.
But now?
Cao Cheng was in high spirits.
He replied to an old stock fan’s question on Weibo:
"Haven’t been looking at stocks lately, just gold. Gotta say, gold’s great—but it’s also something you really shouldn’t buy right now. Anyone who’s bought gold recently? Dump it. Don’t hold onto it, or you’ll be waiting a decade just to break even."
"……"
"The stock god finally talks finance! Tears in my eyes—we’ve been waiting forever!"
"No no no… please no! I just bought gold! Young Master Cao, tell me you’re lying, I’m begging you…"
"Gold’s been on a good run these past two years, peaked at $1,900 an ounce, now corrected to $1,700… Everyone says it’ll keep rising. Who should I believe?"
"Obviously the stock god. He’s got no reason to lie to you—no conflict of interest."
"But… what if he’s wrong?"
"Then go ahead and buy."
"My mom hoarded a ton of gold at home. Experts all say it’ll break $2,000…"
"Since when do you trust ‘experts’?"
"The stock god’s not watching stocks anymore?"
"Read between the lines. It means the market’s either volatile or bearish—otherwise, why would he ignore it?"
"Makes sense."
"Let’s short gold then. Play the futures market."
"You’d dare touch futures?"
"Fortune favors the bold…"
Reading the flood of comments, Cao Cheng shook his head.
He’d handed them the answer, yet it still split the crowd—non-believers stayed skeptical, while believers grew anxious, unsure how to act.
But Young Master Cao knew better. It was only early 2012.
Gold hadn’t even reached its peak frenzy yet.
Just wait till next year.
Wall Street would coin the term "Daa" to represent "Chinese aunties"!
That same year, the aunties’ buying spree would leave global investors stunned.
In just ten days, they’d snap up 10% of the world’s annual gold production.
The world would witness just how deep the aunties’ pockets ran.
That was when true madness would hit.
And then—they’d be stuck holding the bag for six years.
……
Young Master Cao’s name kept circulating,
But it wasn’t over.
April 3rd.
The global rich list dropped, sending shockwaves everywhere.
end. Thus one must continue to cultivate, and become a saint or great emperor, in order to prolong one's life. Chen Xia, however, completely reversed this. Since his transmigration, he has gained immortality, and also a system that awards him with attribute points for every year he lives. Thus between the myriad worlds, the legend of an unparalleled senior appeared. "A gentleman takes revenge; it is never too late even after ten thousand years." "When you were at your peak I yielded, now in your old age I shall trample on you." - Chen Xia
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
igrating to the cultivation world for two hundred years, I've managed to lie low and reach the Nascent Soul stage. Only now does my golden finger arrive? ...
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.
