The Weibo post.
This expert analyst surnamed Liu published his post,
and it quickly stirred up quite a reaction.
Mainly because what he said wasn’t wrong—isn’t finance just bloodsucking?
Isn’t a zero-sum game just you profiting from others’ losses?
So,
even though Expert Liu’s post was highly provocative, many found themselves at a loss for words.
Only the head of the review department called Young Master Cao to ask if they should ban the account.
After all, Young Master Cao held shares in the platform.
Acting as both referee and player—
sometimes, it really was a sweet deal.
But Cao Cheng remained upright and told the review team not to interfere with such opinions.
His attitude even earned the respect of the department head. Truly befitting a billionaire—such magnanimity.
Because this Analyst Liu had gone hard.
Slapping labels left and right.
Trying to stir up public resentment against the wealthy, fueling outrage and tarnishing Cao Cheng’s reputation.
This was outright hostility.
The kind that wouldn’t end until one side was crushed.
Then again,
this was a clash of titans.
Analyst Liu might not have Young Master Cao’s wealth, but he’d spent half his life in finance, serving as an expert for multiple banks.
He’d even worked with big foreign capital.
His credentials were solid.
Young Master Cao stayed silent.
But Analyst Liu’s friends began reposting his words, adding their own endorsements, agreeing that Young Master Cao had profited from two global crises, sucking people dry, driving countless to bankruptcy, to suicide, to broken families.
This was practically calling Young Master Cao the devil.
Making everyone suffer just to line his own pockets—was that even human?
As if he’d personally engineered both crises.
And,
it worked.
People naturally sympathize with the underdog, and suddenly, a flood of haters emerged.
Young Master Cao had plenty of fans.
But many of his male followers found themselves outmatched, trying to reason that finance was inherently a zero-sum game—how were those ruined families Young Master Cao’s fault?
But Analyst Liu’s troll army and fans weren’t here for logic. They just pinned every tragedy on Young Master Cao.
The male fans retreated.
Meanwhile, the "wifey fans"—
the female fans—held their ground.
No need for reason. Just one line: No skill, still playing the market? If they died, they deserved it! Whole families? Good riddance!
See?
That one sentence shut people down.
And it kinda made sense.
The wifey fans were a force. Whatever the argument, they were here for the looks—as long as their "hubby" wasn’t hurt, everyone else could burn.
That one stance made them invincible.
Foreigners’ tragedies? What’s that got to do with us?
Of course,
this only added to Young Master Cao’s haters.
Even he shook his head reading it.
Ladies—ah, only the pretty ones, the ugly don’t count—
Ladies, some things just shouldn’t be said. Even if some people had it coming, we still gotta respect the dead.
Take a page from the Japanese playbook.
Bow, say sumimasen.
Problem solved.
Gotta keep up appearances.
No need to double down.
Cao Cheng was amused.
...
The controversy kept growing.
Emotions kept rising.
As the central figure, Young Master Cao hadn’t said a word, just basking in the emotional storm.
Until the third day.
Finally, Cao Cheng broke his silence.
He posted a picture.
"Grilled chicken wings—my favorite!"
A trident of Poseon skewered several chicken wings, mid-barbecue.
No need to guess—Cao Cheng was clearly indulging in leisure again.
"..."
"!"
"?"
"Husband, I want some too."
"Jealous of your daily life, Young Master Cao. Meanwhile, I'm still slaving away at work."
Fans arrived first, flooding the comments with envy—mostly female admirers.
Then came the haters.
"How can you even eat at a time like this? Disgusting."
"Enjoy your dirty money while it lasts. Your downfall is coming."
"..."
A tidal wave of comments scrolled endlessly.
Plenty of onlookers chimed in too.
That simple photo of grilled wings reminded people of a certain movie, inadvertently boosting its viewership.
Emotional engagement points? Maxed out.
Lately, Cao Cheng needed more and more of these emotional points. He was grinding for loot boxes, and the tech demands kept rising—after all, eight research institutes were waiting for work.
He’d spent a fortune hiring all these Ph.D.s and professors. Couldn’t let them sit idle, right?
That’d be a waste.
And honestly, he had to admire them. As long as they weren’t forced to create something from nothing, their R&D speed was insane.
Patent filings were skyrocketing too.
Cao Cheng was confident—within two years, these patents alone would let him retire, living off royalties.
Give it another two years, and he’d be rubbing shoulders with the global elite.
...
The next day.
Cao Cheng posted a hotpot photo.
Rain poured outside.
But here? A massive canopy kept them dry.
Two women in qipaos attended to him, so Young Master Cao didn’t lift a finger—just pointed at whatever he wanted to eat.
Another photo, another wave of shattered sanity.
The curses piled up.
But curses, in essence, are a double-edged sword.
When you curse someone, if the curse ever takes effect, the backlash will be tenfold.
Of course,
Cao Cheng wasn’t afraid. Death couldn’t even touch him—why fear a few bitter words?
Just the usual "waiting for your downfall" or "the ghosts of those you ruined will come for you at midnight" nonsense.
Meh.
Whatever.
As long as the emotional points kept rolling in.
And they were rolling in plenty.
...
Day three.
The rain didn’t let up.
Cao Cheng lounged in a lush eco-park, a masseuse working on his back.
Young Master Cao snapped a selfie.
Grinning like an idiot.
Caption: "This girl’s hands are strong. Hurts so good."
...
Day four.
Finally, Cao Cheng did something "serious"—he posted a screenshot.
A foreign exchange earnings chart.
Most couldn’t make sense of it.
But some could.
Forty million in profit. In a single day.
Caption: "Looks like another wave of bankruptcies and ruined families overseas. Alas, woe is them."
"..."
"You absolute monster."
"No humanity left in you."
This time, the meltdown was total.
Truthfully, it wasn’t about the ruined lives—it was about the sheer scale of his profits.
Earning that much?
Are you trying to get yourself killed?
...
Day five.
Cao Cheng posted nothing.
Not because Young Master Cao didn’t want to.
After all, those emotional points were too easy—just snap a pic and rake them in. No more hustling like the old days, personally hustling chess games.
He’d long since outgrown the beginner phase.
But,
the reason for the silence?
His father-in-law called.
And tore into him.
Later, the village officials called and even personally visited the eco-park to have a chat with Young Master Cao.
How to put it?
The gist of the situation was this: eating, drinking, having fun, and even pissing people off—no problem. That’s your freedom. Do whatever you want.
But…
Posting screenshots of forex profits? That’s a no-go.
It’s obvious this isn’t a bank-approved forex platform.
To put it bluntly—it’s not compliant.
On top of that, this was essentially the old man (his father-in-law) ordering Young Master Cao to keep a low profile.
Back when Young Master Cao used to post in stock forums about profits in the hundreds of thousands or even millions, no regulators ever came knocking.
Now that he’s made it big, the responsibilities and rules weighing on him have multiplied.
When you think about it, it makes sense.
If everyone sees you making money in forex, especially with high leverage—turning small bets into massive wins—it’s easy for people to follow suit. Seeing is believing, and believing leads to action.
Once enough people try it, the number of those losing everything, jumping off buildings, or fleeing debt will skyrocket.
Do they really think anyone can profit from forex?
Ever seen someone get wiped out in minutes?
So,
Cao Cheng had no choice but to delete that screenshot.
……
Of course,
In the end, he also got wind of something: someone had reported him internally, claiming his forex activities were non-compliant.
And it wasn’t just one person—multiple domestic financial institutions had lodged complaints.
That’s why the higher-ups had to take it seriously.
Damn it.
Playing the snitch game?
Young Master Cao was amused.
He’d been planning to take things slow, but now they’d gone and tattled—like kids running to the teacher or their parents.
Fine. Wait for me after school, you bastards.
……
Cao Cheng made a call to Tang Xin.
“Look into something for me…”
If you’ve got connections, you might as well use them.
He had Tang Xin dig up the list of whistleblowers.
Anonymous or not—it doesn’t matter.
Nothing in this world is truly anonymous, you know?
If you really believe you can report someone anonymously, you’re just naive.
Two days later.
A long list, covering twelve institutions and over forty names, landed on Young Master Cao’s tea table.
Originally, he’d planned to make an example of just one person—the so-called “Expert Liu”—to scare the rest into line.
But since they’d all jumped out of the woodwork, he couldn’t be blamed for playing dirty.
Young Master Cao was sure
Not all of them were moles—just a handful. The rest were bandwagoners, probably just jealous of him.
After all, they were in the same industry.
Envy and resentment were only natural.
But once they’d taken a swing at him, they couldn’t complain when he hit back.
……
The controversy still had legs.
Even though Young Master Cao hadn’t posted any screenshots for days, rumors were swirling in certain circles.
A new account posted on Weibo: “Cao Cheng is under regulatory investigation. Suspected issues with fund sources and tax evasion…”
Rumors spread like wildfire.
The damage to Young Master Cao’s reputation was severe, and many of his followers bought into it.
Debunking the rumors wouldn’t be hard.
But erasing their impact? Nearly impossible.
Let’s break it down:
If a false claim reaches ten thousand people,
After a rebuttal, maybe 30% will see the correction.
The other 70% will forever doubt your integrity—some might carry that suspicion to their graves.
And of those 30% who see the rebuttal, only a fraction will actually believe it.
Meaning, most people will still trust the original rumor, especially if it fits their cynical worldview—because that’s human nature.
So,
When hit with rumors, the best counterattack is to drown them out with an even bigger scandal.
Fighting fire with fire is the best solution.
Just as many people began accusing Young Master Cao of tax evasion and urging regulators to investigate, Cao Cheng broke his five-day silence.
He posted again—this time, a single image.
The picture showed a USB flash drive.
The caption read: "Found this USB at the door. No idea who it belongs to."
"..."
"..."
The déjà vu moment left the comments section eerily quiet for a full minute.
Cao Cheng chuckled dryly and called the tech department: "Did Weibo crash? Why’s there no reaction?"
close your eyes and open them again, only to find yourself transmigrated into the role of a villainous male supporting character. Readers familiar with urban wish-fulfillment novels know that it is only through the relentless antics of the villainous male supporting character that the plot between the male and female leads can progress. As the villainous male supporting character, Long Aotian not only has to bully the female lead, harass the second female lead, and flirt with the third female lead, but he also has to go all out to antagonize the male lead. In the end, when his body is discovered, he is still clutching half a moldy fried dough stick in his hand. Fully aware of the plot, Long Aotian is determined to change his fate, starting with the female lead! In the beginning, the female lead lacks confidence: "Big brother, I hope I didn't scare you?" In the middle, the female lead treads carefully: "Brother Long, please don't hit me, okay?" Later on, the female lead becomes coquettishly clingy: "Aotian, it's time to pay the 'public grain' tonight." Long Aotian's legs go weak, and he feels like crying: "I taught you to be thick-skinned, not shameless!"
ive and Ruthless] Before his transmigration, Ye Xuan was playing a game called "Severing Emotions to Attain the Dao." The game's core wasn't about leveling up by fighting monsters, but about conquering various "bad women" with wicked personalities and cold, fickle natures. There was only one method to conquer them: stay unwaveringly by their side, then die at a critical moment, driving them to madness after losing the protagonist. The higher their level of regret, the higher the player's score. To dominate the server, Ye Xuan conquered all the bad women. In the early stages, he showered them with boundless tenderness, only to choose to sacrifice himself for them later, making them weep bitterly and drown in regret. Among them were: Xia Lengyue, the unfaithful immortal wife who chased after powerful men and discarded her husband like trash. Ye Qingcheng, the Demonic Venerable of the Joyous Union Sect, who appeared pure and innocent but was, in reality, promiscuous. Wu Lingxiao, the Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, who lusted after men and loved maintaining a harem. Bai Qiangu of the Endless Demonic Sect: a bloodthirsty mass murderer. However, when the protagonist transmigrated into the game world, he made a horrifying discovery. Eight hundred years had already passed. The bad women he had conquered had now each become deities and revered ancestors. Faced with the endless stream of toxic women coming for him, Ye Xuan could only rely on his god-tier acting skills to carve a path of survival through this world of treacherous women.
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?"
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.”
