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.”
“…”
“…”
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
igrating to the cultivation world for two hundred years, I've managed to lie low and reach the Nascent Soul stage. Only now does my golden finger arrive? ...
saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"
