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?
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.
. As long as he maintains the villain image and follows the plot to the grand finale, he can obtain generous rewards and return to the real world. So Gu Chen'an entered the role and began to act as a scumbag villain, but who would have expected that the female leads could hear his inner thoughts. Miss Su from the Su family was shocked: "I originally thought Gu Chen'an was a scumbag, but I didn't expect he turned out to be a gentleman! What? You said I have to call off the engagement? I definitely won't, I'll piss you off!" Bai Yuan Tian was dumbfounded: "Young Master Gu is usually unreasonable and a complete brat, but he actually calls me little sweetie in his heart? What, Young Master Gu even said he likes me?" As the female leads' images collapsed more and more, the plot also collapsed with it. Gu Chen'an looked at all this chaos. "Ladies, don't aggro me, if you keep this up the male lead really will stab me, I still need to survive to the grand finale!"
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.”
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?"
