Alright, alright, alright.
You little punk, trying to act tough with me?
Finish your words and then offer tea?
Not only did you secretly curse me, but you also said I lack vision?
Hah.
Well done.
In the past six months, you’re the first one to piss me off.
Old Mount Tai (father-in-law) laughed in exasperation.
"The universe?"
"The stars and the sea?"
"My vision is too small?"
"..."
What’s the matter?
Why so angry?
Isn’t that vision still too narrow?
I’m not even mad.
Cao Cheng could tell, and so could the elegant older woman beside him.
But Old Mount Tai suddenly shifted the topic: "Let’s not talk about vision for now. Just now, did you sneak in a curse at me?"
"No way," Cao Cheng said with an innocent face.
"Really not?"
"Absolutely not."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"..."
"..."
Father-in-law and son-in-law stared each other down for a long while.
Luckily, the elegant older woman had a kind heart and poured tea for both of them.
Coincidentally, Tang Xin walked out of the room, holding the baby she had just finished nursing.
The atmosphere instantly softened.
Old Mount Tai snorted lightly and decided not to press the matter further.
But he’d definitely teach this kid a lesson later.
Otherwise, he’d keep acting like a slacker, spouting nonsense online all day.
Where’s the dignity of a top-tier billionaire?
Forget billionaire—he doesn’t even act like a proper father.
Old Mount Tai said, "Tell me more about this ‘stars and sea’ talk of yours. Don’t just throw out empty words—say something substantial. Have you come up with anything new lately?"
He knew full well that Young Master Cao had plenty of "interesting things" up his sleeve.
Cao Cheng took a sip of tea and nodded. "Since Mount Tai insists, I’ll share some humble opinions. If I miss the mark—"
"Enough nonsense! Cut the crap and speak!" Old Mount Tai snorted again.
Tch.
Such a temper.
Cao Cheng chuckled and shook his head, not taking offense. After all, he’d already gotten the upper hand earlier.
Then,
Cao Cheng began sharing his "humble opinions."
Looking at the present from the perspective of the future was like seeing everything with perfect clarity—it was practically a higher-dimensional insight.
Modern people, standing at this crossroads of history, even the greatest minds in the world, could barely glimpse one or two percent of what lay ahead. The world was just too complex.
But Cao Cheng was different. He had lived through it. He’d seen many things firsthand.
Sure, some details were different.
But the grand trends remained unchanged.
So,
Cao Cheng didn’t hold back, but he also didn’t dive too deep into specifics. After all, the matter of his dreams was his trump card—an absolute secret he could never reveal.
He focused solely on the topic of the cosmos.
Starting from the 1960s and 70s, from the first footprint on the moon.
In short, humanity had taken the wrong path.
A detour lasting over sixty years.
That’s right.
This was the verdict when viewing the present from the future.
The original moon landing? Its purpose had been wrong from the start—a colossal mistake.
That mission wasn’t truly about exploring the universe. Collecting a few moon rocks didn’t count as humanity’s first step into the cosmos.
If the goal had really been to leave this planet and seek extraterrestrial civilizations, if there had been such grand ideals and ambitions, then how could humanity go to the moon in the 1970s—only to lose the capability entirely fifty years later?
A closer analysis would reveal that every outward exploration, no matter how it was framed, ultimately served to reinforce internal oppression.
None of it had anything to do with exploring the universe or reaching for the stars.
......
......
Cao Cheng spoke at length.
Old Mount Tai’s expression gradually shifted from casual indifference to deep contemplation. His gaze grew distant, as if his thoughts had wandered far, far away.
He truly hadn’t expected the kid to approach the issue from this angle.
Some of these ideas were things even he—and most people—had never considered.
By this logic, everyone really did lack vision.
All eyes were still fixated on this tiny patch of land called Earth.
No denying it—
Many of Cao Cheng’s statements and implications had opened Old Mount Tai’s eyes.
A long silence followed.
The courtyard was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Another masterful display of bravado.
Old Mount Tai asked, "Did you come up with this yourself?"
"Who else?" Cao Cheng feigned surprise, his face screaming, "Who else but me could produce such earth-shattering insights?"
He couldn’t very well tell Old Mount Tai that in thirty years, this stuff would be textbook material.
He remembered a sci-fi writer from his dreams who had said something similar.
That writer had even published a piece titled "One Earth vs. a Hundred Thousand Earths"—a fascinating take.
Cao Cheng still recalled it clearly.
With utmost sincerity, he said, "Tang Xin knows—I’m usually pretty lazy. But my laziness is physical, not mental. Certainly not intellectual."
"When I close my eyes to rest, I’m meditating."
"Sometimes, I feel like I can commune with the heavens, connect with the cosmos."
Old Mount Tai cut in: "Speak like a normal person."
"..."
Cao Cheng’s breath hitched.
God, he hated people like this.
If you weren’t my father-in-law, I’d flip this table right now.
Tang Xin and the elegant older woman, familiar with Cao Cheng’s penchant for theatrics, couldn’t help but laugh at his frustrated expression.
Cao Cheng thought for a moment and decided to reveal a little—but not too much.
So he rephrased his approach and asked, "Old Mount Tai, do you believe there’s a kind of higher-dimensional energy that ordinary people can somehow tap into, even receiving strange bits of information?"
Old Mount Tai neither confirmed nor denied it. "Go on."
Cao Cheng knew—
Old Mount Tai believed him.
And really, he had no choice but to believe.
Because in the coming decades, this would become a hot topic.
As technology advanced, "inward seeking" and "higher-dimensional seeking" would become widely recognized and utilized.
Calling it theology might be a stretch.
It was more like a new branch of science.
The gist was that many scientists believed in the existence of dimensions or energy fields far beyond our three-dimensional reality.
In the future, it would indeed be possible to capture traces of such information particles.
Though not fully understood, even the slightest grasp of it would trigger significant technological breakthroughs.
Further research suggested that many ancient sages—those who achieved enlightenment under bodhi trees,
or woke up with mastery of the I Ching,
or became sages by observing the stars—
all of them had somehow connected their minds to higher dimensions, receiving knowledge far ahead of their time.
They disseminated this knowledge, becoming revered figures in history.
......
Cao Cheng knew Old Mount Tai believed him.
Because this kind of research wasn’t something that would only begin in the future—it was already happening now.
It just hadn’t gone public yet.
By bringing it up,
Cao Cheng was also covering for his dreams.
Or rather—
who could say his dreams weren’t higher-dimensional information in the first place?
He’d just framed it in a way that made it easier for Old Mount Tai to accept, while also laying groundwork for the future.
That way, when he unveiled certain "innovations," he’d have an explanation ready.
No need to expose any so-called "system."
Take X-99, for example.
Or the X Serum.
All products of meditation.
This statement wasn’t entirely false—it truly was meditation that led to obtaining a system.
Isn’t this a gift from the higher dimensions?
Right?
...
Mount Tai (a nickname, implying authority) said, "So you’re saying you can meditate and connect to the higher dimensions?"
"No."
Cao Cheng shook his head. "If I could casually connect to them, wouldn’t that make me a god? I’m just saying that meditation can train and develop the brain. The longer and more frequently I meditate, the more it feels like my mind has awakened."
"Many things, I understand at a glance, grasp once I learn, and master once I comprehend."
"Too bad this awakening came after college. If I’d been this sharp back then, my college entrance exam scores wouldn’t have been so mediocre. What a shame..."
Cao Cheng wore a regretful expression.
Mount Tai’s cheek twitched.
Why does this still sound a bit like he’s low-key bragging?
What do you mean "understand at a glance, grasp once I learn, master once I comprehend"?
Pfft.
Think you’re hot stuff, huh?
Why don’t you just fly up and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the sun?
...
After that,
Cao Cheng didn’t reveal much more.
He had to give Mount Tai some time to digest it all.
This kind of thing was indeed pretty metaphysical.
Most people would probably think Young Master Cao had lost his mind or gone stupid.
But Cao Cheng believed that someone in Mount Tai’s position must have access to unfathomable secrets—things far beyond what ordinary people could imagine.
At the same time,
Cao Cheng’s words were also a test.
After this probe, he could confirm that the mysteries Mount Tai had encountered were beyond anything he could fathom.
Even with his dreams and system,
in his past life, he’d just been a nobody—what could he possibly know?
If not for the extended timeline, Cao Cheng probably wouldn’t have much of an advantage.
To put it bluntly,
even if you had the luck to earn money, you might not have the luck to spend it.
Of course,
without the system, Cao Cheng likely wouldn’t dare act recklessly either.
...
...
Eventually, they circled back to business.
Mount Tai asked, "With the X-99 leak this time, a lot of people will come knocking. How do you plan to handle it?"
Cao Cheng countered with a question instead: "I’d appreciate your guidance, Mount Tai."
"..."
Mount Tai snorted. "Since when are you so polite? Weren’t you full of ideas?"
"Heh." Cao Cheng grinned, mimicking Li Yunlong’s (a famous character known for his boldness) style. "Commander—er, Mount Tai, I do have ideas, but that’s not the point. What matters is aligning with your plans. If you take one step forward, I’ll take one step at most. Moving too fast would make me the nail that sticks out."
Mount Tai understood the kid’s meaning.
And he had to admit, the kid seemed more perceptive than before.
Aligning with policy—
that’s how you avoid mistakes.
This kid... really had picked up a thing or two.
After a brief pause, Mount Tai dropped a single word: "I want... stability!"
Cao Cheng froze, instinctively glancing at the tall, elegant woman beside him.
Mount Tai instantly caught on and kicked at him, scowling. "What the hell are you thinking? I said stability!"
"..."
This little bastard.
Just when I thought he’d gained some wisdom, he goes and pulls this crap?
Wordplay, huh?
"Stability."
"Kiss-ability?"
Tch.
This kid!
...
Amid the family’s lively banter,
Cao Cheng grasped Mount Tai’s intent.
Even if Mount Tai hadn’t spelled it out, Cao Cheng would’ve known what to do.
After all, he’d been through this before.
Even if he didn’t understand the highest-level maneuvers,
he could roughly see the path ahead.
In future terms, this is called composure!
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.
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!"
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
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)
