Old Fourth swiftly delivers a kick

"Damn!"

Cao Cheng abruptly opened his eyes.

See?

He really was something else.

Even without the system spelling it out, he could figure it out himself.

So the next upgrade condition would either be spending a total of ten billion or opening hundreds or thousands of divine-tier treasure chests.

If it was the ten-billion spending requirement, that wouldn’t be too bad.

After all, Young Master Cao currently had a huge demand for basic raw materials.

If the upgrade condition was tied to total spending, Cao Cheng could open treasure chests of any level—both grinding upgrade progress and reaping the rewards.

But if…

It required hundreds or thousands of divine-tier chests, that would be a pain.

Divine-tier chests were too expensive.

Over all these years, Young Master Cao had only opened a few dozen at most.

Whatever.

No point worrying about it now.

Let’s check the system upgrade requirements!

Huh?

A moment later, Cao Cheng froze—why was there no countdown?

Previous upgrades had always taken either ninety days, a month, or at the very least a week!

No matter the duration, there had always been a countdown, making it crystal clear.

But this time, there wasn’t even a timeframe for the upgrade?

"What the…?"

"Seriously?"

Cao Cheng fell silent for a long while, unsure what to make of it. Good or bad? No clue.

The damn system didn’t explain either.

All he could do was wait.

……

……

Young Master Cao’s mind was entirely occupied by the system and treasure chests.

As for the matters involving Gong Changheng, they were quickly pushed to the back of his mind.

It had all been for emotional value anyway.

Did anyone really believe that nonsense about "leading cosmic civilization, breaking free from the shackles of time, and ushering in a new era"?

As for contribution points and needing their technology—those were just side benefits.

Cao Cheng could casually open a few chests and leave them in the dust.

At most, he might recruit some scientific personnel from them in the future—that could be somewhat useful.

Or maybe acquire some odd knowledge or items.

Otherwise, it was better to just toss them a few scraps, let them provide emotional value, and leverage their connections to make things smoother for Young Master Cao.

Even if, in the future, there really was some breakthrough in life’s limitations or the dawn of a new era, there was no way he’d bring them along.

What kind of lowlifes were they?

Did they really think they deserved a seat on the same starship as him?

So,

After harvesting a wave of emotions from this, Cao Cheng lost interest, leaving it to Gong Changheng to handle step by step.

Once their emotions stabilized, he’d find another opportunity to harvest another wave.

Emotional harvesting worked like this—

Keeping people emotionally unstable allowed for continuous harvesting, but the returns during that period were meager.

Only after they calmed down could another sharp stimulus yield optimal results.

……

……

In the blink of an eye, half a month had passed since the recruitment for the Eternal Life Society.

Cao Cheng had once again entered vacation mode.

Spending his days doting on his wife, teasing his kids, getting cozy with his second child, and roughhousing with the fourth.

Lin Zhi had left too.

The girl had gone off to film "Great Detective," barely spending much time with Young Master Cao.

Lingling, however, had been staying at home the whole time, sharing a room with the fourth child.

Everything was peaceful.

The company’s artists were thriving, requiring zero effort from Cao Cheng. He had a stockpile of a hundred future chart-topping songs, a hundred hit TV dramas, a hundred blockbuster films…

Just casually tossing out a few was enough to keep the company busy.

And these resources were more than enough to take care of his own artists.

Especially since Miracle Media was a behemoth, backed by capital. Any artist under its banner, even those slightly lower in status, still commanded respect wherever they went.

Everything was progressing smoothly.

Except for one nagging issue—

Half a month had passed, and the system hadn’t shown a single sign of activity.

He really missed the days when there was a countdown.

Whether it was three months or just a week, at least there was a timeframe—something to look forward to.

But now, after waiting half a month, nothing.

It killed all his enthusiasm.

Just thinking about it put him in a sour mood.

A sour mood meant low spirits, and low spirits made the absorption of emotional energy feel choppy, no longer as smooth as before.

Cao Cheng got up from the living room, leaving Bo Zai to play with Little Cao.

He headed upstairs to find Lingling.

At this hour, she was always practicing piano.

Lingling had always been a diligent girl. Even though she’d turned down some less important performances and shows recently, she never slacked off in her daily routine.

The notes flowed like a clear mountain spring, lively and playful.

Cao Cheng quietly opened the door.

He hadn’t meant to disturb her, but the moment the door opened, the music from inside shifted abruptly.

The change was jarring.

Lingling spotted him at the door.

Her fingers didn’t stop—if anything, they grew even more spirited. She smiled at him, and just like that, Cao Cheng’s foul mood evaporated.

He pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos of Lingling.

The girl was in a nightgown, barefoot on the piano pedals.

A perfectly relaxed shot.

Cao Cheng picked one, double-checked that nothing inappropriate was visible, and posted it on Weibo.

Caption: "Sigh. Was in a bad mood, but my little sister knew just what to do—played me a cheerful tune. Feeling slightly better now."

The image and text went live.

Both male and female fans were in a sour mood.

Emotions were running high.

Cao Cheng hadn’t posted anything for days, and this wave of negativity hit hard.

Feeling everyone’s unhappiness, Cao Cheng’s mood fully recovered, and he instantly felt at ease.

"Envy Cao Cheng every day."

"If Goddess Lingling could personally play a piano piece for me, I’d die happy."

"Buddy, in that case, you might live to a hundred."

"Pfft—"

"So jealous. She can play for her man, but all I can do is beat a retreat."

"..."

"Goddess Lingling is naturally stunning. Even in a robe and barefoot, she looks ethereal—utterly peerless."

"Peerless jade feet."

"Everything jade will only ruin you."

"Deep inhale, hold it in..."

...

"Bro, join me?" Lingling invited as the piece ended.

Cao Cheng naturally wouldn’t refuse.

After all, Lingling had always been the most obedient.

And kind.

She never turned down any of Young Master Cao’s requests, so after rejecting one of hers once, he wouldn’t do it again.

But before the four-handed duet, Cao Cheng set up a small camera. Once positioned, they began practicing together.

It had been a long time since Cao Cheng touched a piano.

But talent was like that—even if you didn’t practice, there might be a slight rustiness, yet the moment you sat at the keys, you were still a god.

His "just decent" skills were a whole tier above Lingling’s.

Lingling’s smile grew brighter.

She knew this brother was still that good. Even if he didn’t practice openly, he must’ve found time to hone his skills in secret.

Otherwise, he couldn’t have maintained such peak form.

She also knew that no matter how strong she became, no matter how much others praised her, there would always be a gap between her and Young Master Cao.

A gap she could never close in this lifetime.

But she wasn’t discouraged or jealous—instead, she was happy.

This mindset even seemed to elevate her skills a little.

As the piece ended:

"Bro, have I improved?" Lingling’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Cao Cheng chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Yeah, quite a bit. At this rate, you’ll catch up to me soon."

"Keep practicing. When you hit another bottleneck, I’ll get you another Enlightenment Pill. You might even reach my level."

"Mhm~"

Cao Cheng shamelessly bragged, but Lingling wholeheartedly agreed.

The recording ended, but Cao Cheng didn’t post it.

Instead, he saved a copy for her.

While posting it would’ve been another flex, he’d already shown off enough for now. He’d save it for later—spacing things out might make the impact stronger.

...

June arrived in a blink.

A new show premiered:

Extreme Challenge!

Airing on TV and streaming platforms, the cast was mostly unchanged—except for swapping out the Pig.

At first, Cao Cheng considered inviting the Pig back. After all, he wasn’t blacklisted yet, and his chaotic energy was great for ratings.

Plus, if he got banned later, they could sue him for breach of contract—profit either way.

But in the end, Cao Cheng dropped the idea.

This show was meant to last, and sacrificing credibility wasn’t worth it.

After some thought, Cao Cheng brought in another playboy:

Bo Zai, Hong Kong’s top sea king.

Swapping a Taiwanese for a Hong Konger kept the "two shores, three regions" balance.

Same persona, same madness—where the Pig was insane, Bo Zai was wild. Unmatched variety appeal, zero inhibitions...

Even better than the Pig.

That was enough.

Truthfully,

Cao Cheng had scouted the group—every one of them had skeletons in their closet, even the Squirrel was no saint. All scumbags.

But they knew how to lay low.

And that was the rarest trait in the industry.

As the saying goes:

They don’t beat the diligent or the lazy—they beat the oblivious.

Look at those who crashed and burned, especially at their peak—every single one got arrogant, lost their heads, and stopped watching their step.

...

Cao Cheng watched the show.

His sisters joined him—it aired in the evenings.

Except for the eldest.

She’d been swamped lately, overseeing the conglomerate. Meetings here, events there—no time to breathe.

If she made it home twice a month, it was a miracle.

After the episode:

"What do you think?" Cao Cheng asked.

Fourth Sister frowned. "It’s fine, fresh but... feels like it’s missing something. You really think this’ll blow up?"

Cao Cheng smirked. "What do you know? Wanna bet?"

Fourth Sister huffed. "We’ve got one pending already."

"Stack it," Cao Cheng teased.

"How?" She perked up.

"Against Running Man. If I lose, three more favors." He piled on the stakes.

Running Man was a cultural phenomenon.

A massive IP to begin with.

Fourth Sister blinked. "You’re seriously comparing it to Running Man?"

Cao Cheng grinned. "Call it a hundred-meter head start. Nice, right, little sis?"

"Tch. If you’re asking for death, sure, let’s bet." She snorted.

Cao Cheng instantly stood up. "Wait here, I'll draft a contract. You'll sign it later."

"You little brat, what's that supposed to mean? Think I’d go back on my word?" Old Fourth glared.

"Yep!" Cao Cheng nodded with a simple, cheeky grin.

Old Fourth launched a kick his way.

Cao Cheng had no choice but to catch her foot—this girl...

Always pulling risky stunts.

As for the bet itself—

Cao Cheng wasn’t entirely confident, but at the same time, he was.

The lack of confidence came from knowing, through his dreams, that there was a gap between the two shows.

But his confidence lay in the fact that the gap could be bridged.

Especially with his current status, there was a high chance he could turn things around.

It all came down to how he played it.