Playing chess for a lifetime can't compare to boasting with the father-in-law.

Using technology to show off in front of people.

The immediate result was that Cao Cheng instantly harvested an overwhelming amount of emotional energy.

These people truly lived up to being the wealthiest elite on the planet.

And it wasn’t just about money.

Those who know, know!

At the very least, their status and influence meant that even a casual emotional reaction from them was worth thousands of ordinary people—that was the biggest gap.

No wonder Cao Cheng loved chatting with his father-in-law. A single conversation could easily net him hundreds of thousands, sometimes even doubling with a critical hit.

Just think about it.

A few years ago, Cao Cheng would earn mere single-digit emotional energy from playing a game of chess—sometimes as low as 1 point!

In other words, a lifetime of chess couldn’t compare to a single boastful chat with his father-in-law.

This was also why Cao Cheng ventured into entertainment.

After all, once the artists he groomed became popular, they’d provide a steady stream of emotional energy.

Sure, they couldn’t compare to these elites, but at least they could be mass-produced.

Because,

you couldn’t just tie these wealthy elites down and stimulate them every day.

So,

in the long run, raising his own stable of entertainers was far more convenient.

……

Cao Cheng watched the live feed on the big screen.

It was truly awe-inspiring.

Though it wasn’t some grand celestial palace, not a fantasy or xianxia setting—just an ordinary corporate headquarters layout.

But deep down, everyone harbored a bit of megalophobia.

Everything was enormous—buildings towering high, delivering an immense visual impact.

Even Cao Cheng, watching through the screen, felt that the Eternal Life Society’s metaverse headquarters was damn impressive, like a heavenly palace floating in the cosmos.

If they put on VR headsets and experienced it firsthand, the effect would be even more visceral.

No wonder it had generated such a massive surge of emotional energy.

And it kept flowing in steadily.

……

And so,

the grand deception began.

With the AI "Nuwa"—now rebranded as Little Zhi—guiding them through the Eternal Life Society’s headquarters, explaining everything in exhaustive detail.

Though it spoke in one language, it was instantly translated into their mother tongues, eliminating any communication barriers.

Don’t underestimate this.

From these minute details alone, one could gauge just how advanced the Eternal Life Society’s technology was.

Any single piece of it could shock the world if revealed.

These people were all sharp-eyed and intelligent.

Then,

Little Zhi elaborated on conceptual matters, like what the metaverse actually was.

There were countless interpretations.

But Little Zhi summarized it in just a few simple sentences.

It also explained the metaverse’s future applications.

Including the purpose of the Eternal Life Society itself.

Its core mission—something every member must remember.

Three fundamental tenets:

Transcend the shackles of life, lead the evolution of cosmic civilization.

Break free from the chains of time, conquer the vast universe.

Spread the flame of humanity, usher in a new cosmic era!

……

That was the creed.

Clear enough?

Yet,

at this moment, everyone seemed to feel a surge of hope.

Because with enough lifespan, so many things could become reality.

And with such longevity, their perspectives would naturally shift—lifting their gaze from this planet to the stars beyond.

In short,

the grander the claims, the better.

The more mind-blowing, the more effective.

Painting a huge, round, delicious… pie in the sky!

……

……

With Little Zhi’s introductions and guidance,

Cao Cheng knew this round was a success.

These soon-to-be exploited—no, these future partners—would bring immense convenience.

Moreover,

Little Zhi didn’t even need to warn them—none of them would dare leak a single detail about the Eternal Life Society.

That was just human nature.

In fact,

some of them wouldn’t even share the benefits with their own families.

Hogging the advantages for themselves!

For now, they were only peripheral members, not even qualified for a seat.

They couldn’t even occupy the ninth-tier positions.

At headquarters, they had to sit in unassigned spots.

A sort of probationary period, an initiation.

Only after earning recognition and formal admission would they receive the Society’s insignia, rank, and privileges.

As for biotech and advanced sciences? They wouldn’t get any of it—only by reaching the ninth tier could they exchange contribution points for such rewards.

Little Zhi also laid out the hierarchy and contribution system.

Only after reaching a certain threshold could they be considered full members, eligible to exchange points for longevity serums or real-world technological applications.

But,

as a probationary gift, each of them would receive a special drug from the Eternal Life Society.

This drug wouldn’t grant immortality.

But reversing aging by five to ten years? No problem at all—and not just superficially, but at a cellular level.

An introductory offering.

The exact rejuvenation effect depended on individual physiology.

After all, drugs worked differently for everyone.

Somewhere between five to ten years.

Lucky ones might even get over a decade!

As for contributions?

Simple enough—provide scientists, cutting-edge technology (military or civilian), or even obscure knowledge.

All to enrich the Eternal Life Society’s knowledge repository!

Or any bizarre artifacts—cosmic or terrestrial, as long as they were unusual.

Little Zhi would assess everything and assign contribution points accordingly.

……

……

Inside the metaverse, the grand deception continued for over an hour.

If there had been more to say, Cao Cheng wouldn’t have stopped—the emotional energy was just too lucrative.

And it came in concentrated bursts.

Sure, developing a hit game could also generate massive, sustained emotional energy.

But who could resist multiple god-tier loot boxes in such a short time?

He’d harvest them slowly later.

Once this batch stabilized, he’d recruit more.

This metaverse presentation had been rushed, after all—not fully prepared.

Next time, the recruitment would be even more mind-blowing.

Hell,

he could even use this batch as recruiters—their status alone would awe newcomers.

A win-win either way.

Before they left, Little Zhi informed them that their probationary gifts would be delivered in three days to Gong Changheng, an eighth-tier member, who would distribute them.

Gong Changheng, for completing the recruitment mission, received 1,000 contribution points.

Everyone watched as the number above his head ticked upward.

……

Meanwhile,

Cao Cheng began his loot draws.

This wave of emotional energy was too good to waste—he couldn’t wait to start spinning.

Barring any surprises,

he’d be upgrading his system tonight.

Though this sneaky old-six system never outright stated its upgrade conditions, Cao Cheng had pieced together the pattern from past upgrades.

Either it required a certain number of loot boxes,

or their quality,

or the total emotional energy spent.

Nothing beyond those three.

And the last upgrade?

Three whole years ago.

A full three years.

Back before that royal wedding.

Since then, no matter how many boxes he opened or how much energy he burned, the system hadn’t budged.

If not for the faint sense that it was still evolving, he’d have thought it was maxed out.

This damn thing… such an old six.

So,

Cao Cheng had been calculating and experimenting all along.

Most of the time, he opened ordinary trash bins.

He also opened some other types of chests, including divine-level treasure chests—when he had the time, savings, and materials to synthesize them—but even then, he only opened a few.

Following the system’s prompts, he backtracked to calculate the total amount of emotional value he had spent over the years.

Only then did he realize that the next upgrade wasn’t tied to what kind of chest he opened.

It was about the total emotional value consumed.

From the beginning until now, his total expenditure had reached over 900 million.

Most of that 900 million had been earned in the last three years.

Before that, his earnings were meager, mainly because his setup was limited. On the worst days, he’d scrape by with just a few or a dozen points.

Who would’ve thought he’d one day spend over a hundred million?

...

"Today’s windfall,"

"should push the total emotional value past the billion mark."

"Took some effort!"

Cao Cheng felt a surge of anticipation.

He also genuinely wanted to thank himself for his hard work.

Over the years, whether through games, films, music, variety shows, fame, or even stirring up trouble everywhere,

he had consistently harvested massive amounts of emotional value.

Even cosmetics continued to rake it in globally.

Sure, most people were ordinary, and their emotional value was trash-tier, but even if they couldn’t afford his products, their resentment still counted. Little by little, it added up.

If not for all the effort he’d put in over the years,

how could Cao Cheng have pushed his total expenditure to a billion?

A billion emotional points.

How many old men playing chess in the square would he have to piss off to earn that much?

So,

the first person Cao Cheng wanted to thank was himself.

Thank himself for the effort.

Thank himself for the sacrifices.

Thank himself for persevering.

In short,

he was a damn legend.

The second person to thank... well, there wasn’t one. Just himself.

As for the system or whatever, there was no need for gratitude.

To put it bluntly, the system was living off him. If not for his years of grinding for emotional value, it’d be nothing.

Thinking about it that way felt right.

He’d consider the system’s issues tomorrow during his self-reflection.

...

Afterward,

Cao Cheng kept opening chests.

Tonight’s windfall included several divine-level ones.

But Young Master Cao didn’t fuse them. Instead, he opened bronze or silver-tier chests to stock up on herbs

and add to his collection of tech items.

Some technologies could stack, like artificial intelligence.

Early on, he’d drawn a basic AI.

But after pulling enough of them and fusing them—bam—it upgraded to intermediate.

After all, the AI from system chests came with chips far beyond current tech. Fusing them boosted the AI’s computing power and capabilities.

Then there was the VR headset.

He’d gotten it after a massive spree of draws.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have blown those people’s minds today.

And if they hadn’t been stunned, he wouldn’t have harvested so much emotional feedback.

So,

when you had emotional value, you had to spend it. After spending, you had to flex. Flexing generated more emotions, which fueled more chest openings.

A virtuous cycle.

Round and round it went.

He kept opening chests without even glancing at the contents. He’d let ‘Nuwa’ sort them out later.

He lost track of how many he opened or how much time passed.

Finally,

the total emotional value hit 999,999,000...

Just under 10,000 short.

Cao Cheng took a deep breath.

Did the upgrade require a billion?

Honestly, he wasn’t sure.

But he guessed it did.

If spending a billion emotional points didn’t trigger an upgrade, only two possibilities remained:

Either there was no next level,

or the system was broken.

There was no way he’d miscalculated, right?

One more silver chest.

Cao Cheng closed his eyes,

ignoring the chest materializing in the void.

He only listened for the chime in his ears.

[Ding~]

[Total emotional expenditure has reached 1 billion, meeting system upgrade requirements. Upgrading system...]

[Please wait!]

...

"Damn!"