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.”
“…”
“…”

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.”

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.

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?"

ose... to cooperate with the protagonist! Shen Yuan: I have a system! Protagonist: What? System: Holy crap, you're just spilling it out like that? Shen Yuan: Let's team up, we'll split the system rewards! Protagonist: Fifty-fifty split? Shen Yuan: No way! Protagonist: What!? I'm the one getting beaten up, and I don't get half? Shen Yuan: Forty-sixty split, I get forty, you get sixty! Protagonist: Deal! Big brother, come on, hit me! As long as it doesn't kill me, beat me like you mean it! Shen Yuan: Don't worry... I will definitely protect all of you! No one but me can lay a finger on you! Guard our Heaven's Chosen Ones! I'm the only one allowed to bully them!