The stage presence of the nine performers grew increasingly polished.
Even Cao Cheng was impressed.
Success truly nurtures people.
Especially when it's fame across all of Asia—this tour had accelerated their growth at an astonishing pace.
Their aura…
Absolutely mesmerizing!
Cao Cheng couldn’t help but smile.
All his efforts had paid off, cultivating artists uniquely his own.
Honestly,
raising talents like Xiao Feng or Little Jinmai hadn’t given him much of a sense of accomplishment.
In fact, it almost felt like he’d taken advantage, leveraging foresight to scoop up hidden gems—after all, even without his intervention, their destined success in this industry was inevitable.
A few haters? Irrelevant.
Minor backlash wouldn’t hinder their rise or their earnings.
But the Twelve Golden Flowers? They were his creation, his infusion of fortune.
Sure, his initial motives for selecting them hadn’t been pure, but there was no denying it: without him, their paths would’ve been far rougher.
Anyone in dance knows how bleak the job prospects are after graduation.
So,
seeing them now filled Cao Cheng with pride.
People really can reshape the future.
Human determination conquers all.
…
Lingling stood among the fans, waving, singing along, occasionally letting out a cheer.
She’d always been a gentle, well-behaved girl.
Not one for chaos.
But she was kind.
In this electrifying atmosphere, she wouldn’t dampen the mood—especially since she recognized every song.
They were everywhere.
Inescapably popular.
Every street and alley echoed these tunes; she’d inevitably caught snippets.
By halftime, the nine girls had poured their hearts out, voices cracking or even breaking in places.
Yet the fans didn’t care.
With that much jumping and dancing, perfect vocals would’ve meant lip-syncing.
On the big screen, sweat-drenched and grateful, they thanked the crowd before taking a breather—chatting, playing games, and bringing out a guest performer.
They’d change outfits, recharge, and return for the second act.
Lingling had danced herself into a glow.
Sitting down,
she sighed softly. "They’ve worked so hard."
Nothing in life comes easy.
Even Cao Cheng had his struggles—his days, though seemingly idle, were monotonous in a way most couldn’t tolerate.
Everyone carries their own burdens.
…
Not long into the second half,
Cao Cheng led Lingling out of the stadium.
Leaving early beat the post-concert gridlock.
Outside, nearing midnight, the world was hushed.
The air was just right.
Lingling’s laughter tinkled like wind chimes. "Brother, I had so much fun tonight."
He understood.
After years of restraint, a concert was the perfect release—leaving her light, almost floating.
She darted ahead, her skirt fluttering like a sprite in the night, then circled back to his side. "Brother, watching a concert from the crowd is completely different. When I performed, I never really felt what the fans feel…"
That was her kindness shining through.
Finding empathy in the smallest things—it was saintly.
To walk in another’s shoes is to touch the divine.
This radiance in Lingling was something Cao Cheng admired.
He rarely dwelled on others’ perspectives.
Maybe once.
But after a century in dreams, his soul had aged, stripping away that "purity" of emotion.
Yet purity wasn’t weakness.
A childlike heart, they say.
Men remain boys at their core.
And what’s a boy?
Scientifically, it’s a stage defined by physical and psychological growth.
At that age, curiosity burns bright—
especially about girls.
But Lingling,
with her kindness,
had satisfied every curiosity Cao Cheng harbored.
That night… everyone was happy.
…
In the dim light,
his bedmate slept soundly.
Exhausted.
Meanwhile, Cao Cheng tapped into his amassed fortune for another round of rewards.
Since mastering this method, he’d swapped cigarettes for treasure chests—always drawing after… intimate moments.
[Ding~]
[Congratulations, Host, on obtaining the Divine…]
"Holy—"
Cao Cheng bolted upright.
Five parts shock, five parts disbelief… and eighty-five parts sheer adoration for Lingling.
This girl… quiet until she wasn’t, and then—boom—she delivered something earth-shattering.
Her luck had just handed him the ultimate prize.
"This…"
"This changes everything."
"Isn’t this game over?"
"My future… set. Completely set."
"Emotional points?"
"More than I’ll ever spend."
"Immortality is within reach."
"…"
He slipped out to shower.
Mostly to find solitude, to examine this properly.
Was it what he thought?
[Core of the Pivot Realm]
The name alone screamed sci-fi.
To most, it’d mean nothing.
But Cao Cheng?
Calling him a man from the future wouldn’t be far off.
So he knew exactly what this was.
In his 2099 dreamscape, this tech hadn’t even existed—just concepts and prototypes.
Like how AI commercialization was hyped for years, only to debut as glorified voice assistants…
The Core was similar.
Another name for it?
Neural-link, synaptic-mapping technology.
In plain terms: a processor so advanced, paired with sensors (say, a helmet), it could construct an entirely new world inside the human mind.
Think VR gaming helmets from fiction.
But the Core was leagues beyond.
A quantum computing matrix, its server hub boasted 128 nested quantum processors.
It could spawn standalone "parallel universes" in nanoseconds.
His earlier club ventures, borrowing terms like "metaverse," were child’s play compared to this.
Translation:
He could now design game worlds—or port existing ones—into this system.
Take Honor of Kings.
Players’ digital avatars (their "twins") would battle, buy gear, destroy towers…
All in hyper-immersive reality.
The emotional points? Unfathomable.
And it wasn’t limited to one game. Countless parallel domains—parallel universes—could be built.
Bottom line:
With this, emotional points would never run dry.
Pair it with other tech, like teleportation? It could evolve into a two-way data marketplace.
Order something, and—poof—it materializes.
Of course, that’d take years of R&D. For now, impossible.
…
This system was vast.
Cao Cheng dove into research.
This research took a full two hours... and even then, it was only barely understood.
e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"
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?"
m back to his original world. In the end, he realized he had overthought things. [Hey, why is Shen Manni, the female lead, acting strange? Shouldn't she be fawning over the male lead at this point?] [Zhou Qiaoqiao, are you sick? Weren't you supposed to break off your engagement today?] [Damn it! An Youyi, please do your job as an undercover agent and sell my information to the protagonist, you idiot!] ... At this moment, Xu Mo himself didn't know that these female leads had already heard his inner thoughts. Then they decided not to play by the rules. Xu Mo: Please respect my profession as the big villain!
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.”
