July.
The system remained silent.
Did it die?
Cao Cheng tried calling out to it—this was seriously affecting his operations.
During system upgrades, it still collected emotional points and allowed him to open loot boxes.
But knowing the upgrade was about to finish, he had to save some points for a post-upgrade spree, right?
Unfortunately.
The system showed no signs of reactivating, which left Young Master Cao feeling a bit on edge.
What’s the deal?
Glitched?
In all these years, this was the first time he’d encountered such a situation, making him wonder if the system had frozen mid-upgrade.
At least give me a progress bar, damn it!
An upgrade with zero visible progress… does that make sense?
No, it doesn’t!
Meanwhile, in July, the market began stirring.
After months of sideways movement around 2,000, it climbed to 2,200 in a month.
The rise seemed modest.
Most people missed the signal.
But Cao Cheng knew—this was the start of a battle.
A real one.
A standoff had formed.
...
Over the next two months, Cao Cheng watched quietly.
Emotional points kept rolling in.
Back when he’d called the market bottom, many had believed him and gone all in.
Though the market had fluctuated for a year after that, the bottom had indeed solidified—
cemented rock-hard.
By now, everyone was convinced it was the real deal.
And then—
Liftoff.
Excitement poured in from all directions, feeding Cao Cheng’s reserves.
Every day, people flooded his comments—some thanking him, others begging for confirmation: "Is the bull run here?"
So many asked.
Of course,
there were also the doubters, or those shaken out during the volatility, now drowning in regret.
The bitterness.
They came weeping, pleading for guidance.
In just two or three months, Cao Cheng’s space became a magnet for desperate retail traders.
He couldn’t help but think these people were just…
honestly, kinda hopeless.
I gave you the answers, and you still couldn’t copy them right?
Besides,
who the hell else is like me? If someone really knew the future, why would they just hand it out to strangers online?
These people were never satisfied.
Some even acted entitled.
The more he shared, the more some assumed he owed them predictions.
If he didn’t spoon-feed them, they acted like he was the problem.
A few even got cocky, hiding behind their screens like they could say whatever they wanted.
Absolute clowns.
Seriously—
modern-day "give an inch, take a mile."
Cao Cheng wasn’t angry.
Just baffled.
Then again, he knew the internet was a zoo.
On the bright side, his fans jumped in too—much nicer to hear "Hubby!" or "Godfather!" than the whining.
They even roasted the trolls for him.
The difference between loyal fans and random leeches was night and day.
Either way, the emotional points kept stacking up.
And judging by the sheer numbers, these people were hooked.
Ordinary retail traders and fans might seem harmless, but en masse, they could move markets.
Exactly what Young Master Cao needed.
...
"Human nature never changes."
Scrolling through the endless comments, Cao Cheng sighed.
A century of experience had shown him this cycle before.
But living through it again always brought fresh perspective.
October.
Little Cao—Cao Decheng—turned one.
Tang Xin and his sisters went all out for the birthday, complete with traditional games like Zhuazhou (grab-the-object fortune-telling).
They celebrated in Zhonghai first.
Then in November, they took him to the capital for a second round at his grandfather-in-law’s place.
But this trip wasn’t just for cake.
The real battle had begun.
Cao Cheng brought stacks of data.
After first milking his father-in-law for emotional points (satisfying), they retreated to the study.
Too noisy outside for serious talk.
In the study, the old man raised an eyebrow—Cao Cheng was rarely this focused. Usually, the guy oozed laziness.
They sat across from each other, tea steaming between them.
His father-in-law spoke first. "What’s on your mind?"
After pouring tea, Cao Cheng pulled out his laptop, opened a file, and slid it over.
The old man’s expression shifted from calm to grim before he’d even finished.
He looked up sharply. "How reliable is this?"
Instead of answering directly, Cao Cheng said, "I dug it up myself."
A nod.
That meant high confidence.
The kid had a knack for this—especially in finance, where he always seemed steps ahead.
...
Three hours passed.
No interruptions.
Not until the birthday candles were lit did his eldest sister-in-law finally knock.
Only then did the two men leave the study.
After dinner, Old Taishan called Young Master Cao away again. That night, Cao Cheng stayed out with him, barely getting any sleep.
Many people were summoned.
Cao Cheng also shared much of what he had uncovered, including the prepared strategies and countermeasures.
He harvested no small amount of emotional value.
……
Once the discussions ended,
the next three days were spent in back-to-back meetings for Cao Cheng.
It wasn’t until the fourth day, when everything was finally settled, that he regained his freedom.
Throughout these busy days, Tang Xin played the role of the devoted wife, asking no questions. She simply welcomed Cao Cheng home with a warm hug and a gentle "You’ve worked hard."
That was enough.
Looking back,
Cao Cheng posted three words and a picture on Weibo.
The image showed an old ox in a field,
with a finger pointing at it in the frame.
The caption read: "Let’s do it!"
Anyone with half a brain could grasp the meaning.
The bull was coming.
Time to act!
Those who fully trusted Young Master Cao didn’t hesitate—just one word: Charge!
And just as Cao Cheng had predicted,
once everyone dove in, the numbers soared from 2,600 to 3,200.
A proper takeoff.
The crowd went wild.
And this was only the beginning.
……
……
In the blink of an eye, it was 2015.
A pivotal year.
The year everything truly began.
From the start of the year, Cao Cheng was swamped—genuinely swamped, thanks to Old Taishan’s relentless demands.
There was no way around it.
With great power came great responsibility.
Outwardly, Cao Cheng didn’t seem to be doing much.
The parent company and its various subsidiaries were managed by his sisters or professional executives.
His daily routine involved posting on Weibo—occasional barbecue pics, photos of girls—nothing out of the ordinary.
But in reality,
only a handful of top executives knew just how busy Cao Cheng was.
By March,
he sent out another message, telling those who trusted him: "Starting in April, sell on the highs."
The wording couldn’t have been clearer.
No interpretation was needed—anyone with a brain understood.
And yet,
this was all Cao Cheng could do. He also used the situation to filter out those who truly trusted him.
Because next month would be the explosive phase.
A relentless upward surge.
This was where human nature would be tested.
Those who listened might earn less, but they’d never lose.
Those who didn’t might strike it rich overnight—only to be buried under an avalanche just as quickly.
……
April arrived,
and just as Cao Cheng had said, the market skyrocketed.
Some of the "retail investors" actually followed his advice, selling on the highs,
reducing their positions layer by layer.
Though each time they sold, the market continued to climb the next day, costing them some profits,
they didn’t dare challenge Cao Cheng’s judgment.
Of course,
there were the bold ones. Seeing such a hot market, why sell?
Nonsense!
Hold tight!
They feasted on the gains.
Online, opinions split into extremes.
Some laughed wildly:
"Hahahaha… Sell my ass! I held steady—three days, one apartment (pic)!"
The image showed leveraged gains—hundreds of thousands in profit in just three days.
Plenty of comments followed,
tempting many others.
A few rational voices chimed in:
"The stock god hasn’t been wrong yet. He didn’t say the market would crash this month, just to sell on highs. You should still be careful. Paper gains aren’t real until they’re in your hands."
"Ohhh, listen to the jealousy! Three days = an apartment in a small town. Even if they cash out now, they’re rolling in it. You guys keep selling on highs—how else will the big players offload their shares?"
"Hahaha exactly! Get out already. The gambling god’s good, but gambling means wins and losses. I respect Cao the Trickster, but this time, I’m siding with reason."
"Wait… is this what you call ‘reason’? Am I misunderstanding the word?"
"……"
Human nature was on full display.
Many still believed,
but a silence effect took hold among Cao Cheng’s followers.
The frenzy was too loud. Anyone trying to reason was mocked or even cursed,
so most gave up and just quietly sold on highs.
Sure, it was tempting—seeing others bag an apartment in three days—
but they reminded themselves of their earlier profits.
Even selling now, they’d locked in solid gains.
Better secure the bag.
Trust Cao the Trickster this once.
Even if he was wrong this time, they’d still walk away with something—no losses.
That thought kept them steady.
Meanwhile, groups formed everywhere.
Believers in one chat, skeptics in another,
with undercover lurkers shuttling intel between them.
……
As for Cao Cheng,
he had no time for their bickering.
His system was finally updated.
Damn.
A whole year in the making.
A whole year.
Do you have any idea how I've survived this past year?
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.
ver to a world of cultivation and returned invincible. Modern medicine is child's play compared to elixirs; technological might crumbles before true cultivation. My name is Qin Ning, Earth's sole cultivator!
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)
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
