Twenty years!
It's been a full twenty years since waking up from that dream.
No wonder Young Master Cao was feeling sentimental.
Mainly because this year happens to be the 2006 World Cup.
The tournament kicks off in June as well.
Exactly two decades later.
As someone who’s lived through it, Young Master Cao naturally knew the finalists would be France and England…
He bought a few lottery tickets just for the sake of it.
Not to make money.
More like a nostalgic gesture.
After all, after waking from that dream, Young Master Cao had built his fortune on sports betting.
"England winning the World Cup? When has England ever lacked a championship-caliber squad? And yet, when have they ever actually won?"
"..."
Cao Cheng didn’t bother hiding his bets.
So the news spread quickly.
Young Master Cao was, after all, known as the God of Gambling.
Though he’d gradually faded from the public eye in recent years, whenever major events shook the markets—whether it was stock fluctuations, housing crashes, government interventions, or subsequent volatility—
plenty of people couldn’t resist seeking his opinion.
And Young Master Cao?
On good days, he might drop a hint or two.
Mostly for the emotional payoff.
But given his current status, he couldn’t speak as freely as before. A single word could shift entire market risks.
Turning what should’ve been a modest uptick into a nosedive.
Or, conversely, turning a one or two-day rally into a relentless streak of limit-up surges.
His influence was too vast.
Some words simply couldn’t be spoken anymore.
But sports betting? That was different.
Even if his predictions swayed overseas odds, the worst that could happen was match-fixing by the bookies.
And England hadn’t won a World Cup in sixty years—what was one more tournament?
So,
when news broke of Cao Cheng betting on the finalists, it wasn’t a big deal.
After all, football is unpredictable. Anything can happen. Plenty of people trusted Young Master Cao, but just as many didn’t.
"Bet against him, and you’ll retire by the sea."
"The last time John won the World Cup? That was back in the last century… the 1960s, when my grandma was just a baby…"
"I’d love for John to have a shot at the title, but let’s be real—is that even possible?"
"Seriously, it’s not about disbelief—it’s about being afraid to believe. Has John ever lacked a stacked squad? On paper, they’ve always had a chance… but when have they ever delivered?"
"..."
Those were the rational takes.
Using data and history to back their skepticism toward Young Master Cao.
Then there were the less rational ones—folks who just reflexively bet against the "experts," as if contrarianism made them look cool.
And of course,
there were the self-proclaimed geniuses.
"Even if John had a shot before, they don’t now!"
"Exactly my thoughts. Great minds think alike."
"What do you mean?"
"Don’t you get it, kid? Young Master Cao isn’t just anyone—he’s a permanent fixture at the top of the global rich list. A single word from him can trigger waves of speculation."
"Now imagine him predicting a World Cup win. Suddenly, everyone’s dumping money on John. The odds plummet until there’s nowhere left to go… and you know what they say: ‘The hotter the favorite, the harder they fall.’"
"..."
…
As for the noise and chaos outside?
Cao Cheng had expected it.
Such was the convenience of fame and status.
Just by stirring up some trouble, emotions keep pouring in nonstop.
And it’s not just limited to the domestic scene.
After predicting the finalists, many people abroad actually believed in Cao Cheng’s judgment and placed their bets, causing the odds to drop repeatedly.
At the start of the World Cup, the odds had been quite high.
Even for the most favored team, Spain, the odds were at 11 points.
But now,
Young Master John quickly overtook Spain as the favorite, with the odds dropping to just 4 points.
This shows just how many people bet on John to win.
The emotional reactions alone were substantial.
Especially among John’s supporters—when they heard the world’s richest man was backing John for the championship, they popped champagne, uncorked wine, cracked open beers, and straight-up partied.
Bars everywhere started celebrating.
It was that exaggerated.
Meanwhile, the team Young Master Cao named as the runner-up, France… well, a lot of people weren’t happy.
What the hell?
Don’t you know France is stacked with talent right now? World-class players on all three lines, back-to-back finals appearances, and a championship already under their belt.
What does John even have?
When was the last time they won?
Like, a few centuries ago?
Yeah, people were pissed.
There were even small-scale protests, with fans expressing their displeasure toward Young Master Cao.
And it wasn’t just France.
Spain wasn’t thrilled either.
Spain had a solid shot at winning, with bookmakers giving them a 13% chance—way ahead of the pack.
Brazil was only at 12%, for comparison.
Speaking of Brazil,
They were fine, honestly. As the kings of the sport, winning or losing wouldn’t really dent their reputation among fans.
But the defending champs? Yeah, they weren’t happy either. What’s the deal?
They’re the reigning titleholders, for crying out loud.
Then there were others—the German machine, Italy… the list went on.
Even the host nation, the U.S., wasn’t exactly pleased.
We’re doping before every match and still not winning?
Who do you think you’re underestimating here?
…
In short,
Young Master Cao’s influence right now is no joke.
And it’s not just a domestic thing, either.
Here’s the thing—
Outside the Eastern Bloc, a lot of people take the word of the ultra-wealthy at face value.
Because, well, some folks just don’t think too hard. To them, if a billionaire didn’t know what they were talking about, how’d they get so rich in the first place?
Naturally, the emotional reactions were even more intense.
…
Even the bookmakers were scrambling.
Thankfully, their business relies on data and balancing odds, so it was mostly the actuaries sweating bullets.
They managed to keep things under control—barely.
But it definitely gave them a headache for a while.
So,
The world’s largest betting company released a statement, first thanking Young Master Cao for his… enthusiasm for the gambling industry.
After all, Cao Cheng had placed bets domestically, which indirectly affected international markets.
Domestic betting odds, spreads, and payouts are all tied to the global system, and sometimes, behind the scenes, they even hedge their positions.
Then,
The betting company invited Young Master Cao to watch the finals from the VIP section.
They also encouraged him to place a few live bets on the outcome.
Just for fun, of course.
…
Cao Cheng’s response came swiftly:
“Sorry, can’t bet on overseas markets. It’s illegal.”
“…”
“…”
ey change clothes. Li Chuan contributed all his possessions, only to find that things were not as they seemed. Almost a year after joining, he hadn’t managed to get a single Daoist consort. Thinking he had been deceived, he was approached by a stunning senior fellow disciple who asked if he would like to form a spiritual bond. For those who don’t practice cultivation, they might not know what “forming a spiritual bond” is. Let me put it this way: A long-term relationship is called a “Daoist consort,” while a short-term relationship is known as “forming a spiritual bond.” From then on, Li Chuan discovered the true way to interact with the Yin-Yang Sect’s Daoist consorts. As long as he had enough spirit stones, he could form a spiritual bond with anyone, Whether it’s Senior Sisters, aunts, Daoist consorts of aunts, female elders, Daoist consorts of elders, or even the Daoist consort of the sect leader, anyone can form a spiritual bond as long as there are enough spirit stones.” I've already joined the Yin-Yang Sect, and you're telling me to focus on cultivation? Do you even know what the Yin-Yang Sect is all about?
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
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!
reezy rom-com) Good news: Jiang Liu is quite the ladies' man. Bad news: He’s lost his memory. Lying in a hospital bed, Jiang Liu listens to a parade of goddesses spouting "absurd claims," feeling like the world is one giant game of Werewolf. "Jiang Liu, I’m your first love." "Jiang Liu, you’re my boyfriend—she’s your ex." "Jiang Liu, we’re close friends who’ve shared a bed, remember?" "Jiang Liu, I want to have your baby." The now-lucid Jiang Liu is convinced this must be some elaborate scam... until someone drops the bombshell: "The day before you lost your memory, you confessed your feelings—and got into a relationship." Jiang Liu is utterly baffled. So... who the hell is his actual girlfriend?! ... Before recovering his memories, Jiang Liu must navigate this minefield of lies and sincerity, fighting to protect himself from these women’s schemes. But things spiral even further out of control as more people show up at his doorstep—each with increasingly unhinged antics. On the bright side, the memories he lost due to overwhelming trauma seem to be resurfacing. Great news, right? So why are they all panicking now?
