This is absolutely outrageous, that bastard Cao has gone too far

These thoughts were exactly what Old Taishan had feared before.

Once the life-extending drug became public, the world would undoubtedly descend into chaos.

Especially the upper echelons—they would exploit the lower classes even more ruthlessly, all for the sake of living longer.

In pursuit of immortality, many would commit acts beyond imagination.

Even within the small circle of the Eternal Life Society, signs of this were already visible, let alone if it were made public.

Moreover,

though it was called the Eternal Life Society, Cao Cheng had no intention of letting these people truly live forever.

At most, they’d gain a few extra years.

After all, they were just a bunch of foreign devils—why should they live so long?

So,

the first few batches of the drug were genuine, but gradually, the life extension effects were reduced.

Only when Earth could venture beyond, becoming a first- or second-tier civilization, could such a drug be truly made public.

……

On the other side,

many of the foreign devils who returned didn’t take the life-extending drug immediately—it wasn’t like they were on the verge of death.

But secrecy was paramount.

Some began funding private research, while others gathered a few close friends to collaborate.

They seemed determined to uncover the drug’s life-extending mechanism.

At the same time, they needed to verify whether the drug truly added three years to one’s life.

This was easy enough to confirm.

Find a terminally ill patient in a hospital, preferably someone on the brink of old age.

Give them a pill.

Observe for three years.

Record their physical changes daily to confirm the drug’s authenticity.

Though it was a waste, this step was necessary—otherwise, who knew if those three years were real?

After all, this was a hundred-million-dollar purchase.

These people were wealthy, but even they felt the pinch.

Damn it.

A single pill cost a hundred million dollars.

Sponsoring a political candidate didn’t even cost this much—just a few million at most.

So yeah, the drug was ridiculously expensive.

They could only hope the results were worth it.

Three years.

They could wait.

Besides,

no matter what, they needed to earn enough points to exchange for some advanced technology later.

Especially at the fifth level, where they could acquire a teleportation array.

That could be a lifesaver in critical moments.

Set up a teleportation point, and even if their city was nuked, they could instantly escape to the safest place.

Their minds buzzed with possibilities.

They planned to build bunkers deep in the mountains, install the teleportation array there, and link it to their safehouses.

Stocked with food and water…

They’d be ready for the apocalypse.

However,

factions within the wealthy families and conglomerates began to clash.

Such a golden opportunity couldn’t be monopolized by a single lineage, could it?

A fight was brewing.

Since this was tied to the Eternal Life Society, Cao Cheng naturally reaped emotional energy from it.

Any conflict, no matter how small, fed him a little.

This was why Cao Cheng stirred the pot everywhere.

……

Mid-December.

Huang Bo’s Mojin: The Lost Legend hit theaters.

Cao Cheng had invested in it, though not much—just enough to get his name attached. The real money was in the licensing fees.

So he didn’t bother promoting it much.

The real focus was Detective Chinatown, releasing at the end of the month, in which Cao Cheng had invested heavily.

The first film in the series hadn’t been a box-office smash, but…

Now, with Cao Cheng involved, things were different.

Since September, he’d been trading barbs with Little Bawang, all to set the stage for this film.

By December,

Cao Cheng was already locked in a war of words with the hot-tempered director.

Little Bawang, no stranger to publicity, gave as good as he got.

Though he wasn’t the director of this film, he was the lead actor.

This was also their final bet.

If he lost this time, every movie he made from then on would end with a bold, humiliating credit: "Cao Cheng is the greatest, the handsomest!"

It would be social suicide.

Every film would flood Cao Cheng with emotional energy.

……

Of course,

this time, Cao Cheng wasn’t paying close attention.

A little hype was enough.

His influence was such that even a slight nudge caused ripples. Take this film—despite starring Bao Qiang, it still skirted the line of being a low-budget production.

Production costs were over thirty million.

But factoring in the twenty-million-dollar actor fees, it was far more expensive than Goodbye Mr. Loser.

Add in overseas location rentals, another ten million.

Then there was marketing—fifteen million minimum.

All told, the budget hit eighty million, roughly on par with Goodbye Mr. Loser.

The cast was slightly more recognizable, but not by much.

It couldn’t compete with Mojin, which boasted award-winning actors,

or Mr. Six, which had the top director and biggest star…

But,

this film’s biggest draw was Cao Cheng himself.

His heavy investment and high-stakes bet with Little Bawang had fans buzzing.

……

Mojin: The Lost Legend premiered on the 12th, earning 200 million in its first 24 hours.

Mr. Six debuted on the 24th, with a first-day haul of 70 million.

Detective Chinatown opened on the 31st, pulling in 136 million on day one.

All three films scored well, above 7/10—a fierce battle.

However,

Detective Chinatown had a 20-day buffer from Mojin, so its rise faced little resistance.

Mr. Six, on the other hand, was unlucky.

It premiered while Mojin was still hot.

By the time Mojin cooled, Mr. Six had lost screen time to Detective Chinatown’s surge.

Trapped between two giants, Mr. Six was squeezed from both sides.

Barring surprises, Mojin and Detective Chinatown would each clear 1.5 billion, while Mr. Six would struggle to hit a billion.

Even with similar ratings,

one was a crowd-pleasing comedy, the other an adaptation with a built-in fanbase.

Their staying power was beyond Mr. Six’s reach.

……

"Lost…"

"Completely lost."

A week into Detective Chinatown’s run, it was already January. Seeing its unstoppable momentum, Little Bawang knew the game was over.

Five years of bets, wiped out.

In half a decade, neither his directorial efforts nor his acting roles had surpassed Let the Bullets Fly, let alone Goodbye Mr. Loser’s 2.3 billion or Detective Chinatown’s success.

A total defeat.

At first,

he thought he’d made peace with it. He told himself it wouldn’t hurt too much.

But facing the reality of loss, a deep, waning despair settled over him.

Decades of work—starting as a desperate apprentice, begging for a chance, clawing his way up with help from mentors and sheer will.

There’d been glory days too.

Back then, the New Year’s movie scene belonged to Uncle Ge and Master Pao’er. Every release had the nation lining up.

People waited all year just for their holiday films.

But now…

He wasn’t old yet.

Yet his time had passed.

This wasn’t just about box office numbers.

It was the death of his spirit.

Old Xu sat beside him, unsure what to say.

Ah, well. Let him be.

A night of heavy drinking, a drunken stupor, and by morning, he’d be back to his old self.

Right now, he was just being dramatic.

Old Xu knew him too well.

I really don’t know if I was blind back then, or blind, or just plain blind… to have ever liked him.

Sigh.

Ring ring—

Just then, the phone rang.

Old Xu picked it up and looked at the screen, surprised: "Cao Cheng?"

Master Pao'er glanced up, setting down his glass: "Give it to me."

Old Xu handed over the phone.

Master Pao'er answered, putting it on speaker: "Yeah?"

"Master Pao'er, drinking again?"

"Damn, are you spying on me?"

"The hell I need to spy on you? Everyone knows what you’re like. After a loss, you’d drown yourself in booze—bet you’ve been at it nonstop these past couple days. Oh, and by the way, from now on, at the end of every movie, I want big, bold letters—neat and proper—declaring ‘Cao Cheng, invincible and the handsomest in the universe.’ Got it? No tricks, no wordplay. If you honor the bet like a man, I’ll still respect you."

"……"

Master Pao'er’s lips twitched. This guy was truly shameless.

I lost, and you can’t even offer a word of comfort? Straight to the bet?

What happened to "fighting leads to friendship"?

What happened to "we’ll be pals from now on"?

This is it?

Master Pao'er grumbled: "I don’t feel like making movies anymore. Not now, not ever."

Cao Cheng snapped: "The hell you dare."

Master Pao'er shot back: "Why wouldn’t I dare? If I don’t wanna film, I won’t. The bet never said I had to keep making movies."

Cao Cheng sneered: "Try me. If you quit, I’ll have you kicked out of the club so fast your head spins."

"You—you’re going too far," Master Pao'er panicked.

Cao Cheng added: "Besides, if you stop making movies, how’re you gonna earn money to donate for points? How’re you gonna qualify for missions? Even if I don’t kick you out, they’ll purge you soon enough. Think about it—you’re a grown man. Do I really need to spell this out for you?"

Cao Cheng continued: "Who’d want someone with no value? You tell me. Like, if it weren’t for Sister Xu, I wouldn’t even bother calling you a brother. You’re so damn ugly I can’t even look at you."

"That’s it. Remember—from now on, my movies better declare me invincible. No funny business."

Click!

He hung up.

Master Pao'er stomped in fury: "This is too much! He’s gone too damn far!"

Pointing at the phone, he glared at Old Xu: "What did he mean by that last part? About not calling me a brother if it weren’t for you?"

Old Xu chuckled, smug: "He’s here for me, obviously. Who wouldn’t be, with my looks? He only befriended you to get close to me."

"Damn it!"

Master Pao'er, slightly drunk, finally processed the meaning.

But he knew it was just a joke, meant to rile him up.

After all, how old was Cao Cheng?

Young, with billions to his name.

Connections in every industry.

And untouchable backing.

As for Old Xu…

Sunset years.

Ugh.

Over forty.

No matter how well she maintained herself, she was still past forty.

If Cao Cheng really wanted her, she’d be the one scoring.

Pah!

Master Pao'er shook his head violently, dispelling the thought. What nonsense—must be the alcohol talking.

Fuming, he growled: "That little brat’s gone too far. I refuse to believe I’ll never make a movie that beats his. Just wait. There’s plenty of time. His arrogance won’t last."

Old Xu snorted: "Give it up. He’s not even thirty—got decades ahead. How long can you keep directing?"

"Hold on."

Master Pao'er bristled: "Whose side are you on? Nothing’s even happened, and you’re already siding with him? You think he actually wants you? Look in the mirror—how old are you?"

Old Xu stood up and smacked him: "You bastard! That’s not what I meant! How dare you! You’re dead to me!"

"Yeah, yeah, I’m a bastard." Master Pao'er smirked, feeling victorious.

The bickering actually lifted his mood, pulling him out of his gloom.

Now, what to film next?

Watching Old Xu storm off, her exaggerated swaying hips caught his eye.

What a tease!

Master Pao'er muttered under his breath: "Pan Jinlian… Yeah, that’s it. My next film’s gonna be about her."