After this flurry of activity, Cao Cheng had earned over 600,000 yuan.
October arrived—a critical month.
The stock index, which had been at 1,600 in September, surged to 1,800 by October!
Right around this time,
self-proclaimed experts began popping up online, warning of risks and insisting this wasn’t a bull market—just a fake breakout that would eventually crash.
The war of words continued.
Retail investors, layered with frustration, lashed out at the mere sight of the name "Stock God Aotian." No matter what he posted, whether constructive or not, they flooded his threads with vitriol.
Cao Cheng had become the enemy of the masses.
During the National Day holiday, Cao Cheng profited handsomely—not in money, but in emotional energy.
Contributions came not just from the retail investors but also from Lingling.
The girl had returned for the holiday,
coming back at the end of September.
Cao Cheng visited the old lady’s home almost daily, massaging her shoulders—after all, age had weakened her bones.
With his basic knowledge of traditional Chinese medicine, he could easily help ease her discomfort.
She was Lingling’s grandmother, after all.
If Granny wasn’t well, Cao Cheng couldn’t just ignore it.
He also seized the chance to give Lingling a massage—something she quickly became addicted to.
So,
over the five-day holiday, Lingling nearly became his top contributor.
Day 27 since "Fourth Sister," his second-biggest contributor, had left.
He missed her.
On this day, Lingling also departed, reluctantly. Cao Cheng saw her off at the station.
She threw herself into his arms like a swallow returning to its nest, then blushed and pulled away. "Brother Cheng, come visit me in Beijing when you have time."
"I will," Cao Cheng nodded.
Then, he dove back into the online battles.
The next few months were crucial.
In September, the index had been at 1,600.
By October, it broke through 1,800!
Still, no one believed a bull market was coming—especially the pro-American experts, who kept preaching doom.
Their warnings left the retail investors paralyzed with fear.
By November,
the index surpassed 2,000 points!
At this point, a small fraction of people began to realize the severity of the situation—the bull market might actually be here.
But most remained skeptical.
They were scared.
Years of brutal bear markets had conditioned them to see every opportunity as a trap—a lure before the slaughter.
As the weather turned colder,
Cao Cheng’s heart burned with excitement.
He caught a skyrocketing stock,
grew his capital pool past ten million, then slowly exited before diving into two other high-potential stocks.
Alongside the financial gains, he also harvested negativity.
When
"Stock God Aotian" posted his profit charts, his haters lost their minds—furious.
None of them had made money. Many hadn’t even recouped their losses or were sitting on empty accounts. How dare he profit?
And double his gains, no less?
How?!
Then,
a well-known expert finally responded to one of Cao Cheng’s posts.
Previously, such experts had ignored him, dismissing him as a "small fry" seeking attention.
But now, public outrage forced their hand.
To protect their reputations and attract followers, they stepped in to support their fans—and recruit them into paid groups.
The expert wrote, "Not bad, kid. But in the stock market, the last laugh is the only one that matters. Watch out for the avalanche!"
Seemingly well-intentioned, the comment dripped with sarcasm.
Aotian’s reply: "Avalanche my ass."
"You—" The expert was livid.
He hadn’t cursed, but this punk had crossed the line.
His fans were equally enraged.
Cao Cheng had no patience for drawn-out debates with experts.
Insults sufficed.
Most financial influencers nowadays were just apologists for foreign interests. He could curse freely—rarely would he be wrong.
And if he was? So what.
They were opponents in a zero-sum game. He profited from their losses—where was the room for civility?
Gradually, more "experts" joined the fray—big names and small, all united in their disdain for "Stock God Aotian."
But
the market didn’t bend to their will.
After breaking 2,000 in November,
by late December, it soared to 2,600!
Now,
even fools could see—the bull had arrived.
Cao Cheng’s capital had multiplied tenfold in just three months.
Fifty million!
The experts fell silent.
The retail investors fell silent.
Only a few who had lost heavily still occasionally spat insults. The rest either shut up or switched to alt accounts to suck up.
The comment section turned eerily harmonious—filled with cries of "Big Boss" and "Daddy."
Everyone was suddenly polite.
But…
human nature is strange.
Even knowing the bull was here,
few dared to go all-in.
Maybe they thought: "I missed the boat at 1,600. Now it’s 2,600—almost doubled. Surely it’s too late? And after three months of gains, a correction must be coming."
They’d wait for the dip to buy.
Only Cao Cheng knew—there would be no dip. Not for a year.
Next year might bring a brief adjustment, but then the frenzy would resume.
Those who didn’t board now would miss out entirely.
When the opportunity finally came, it would signal the beginning of the crash.
So,
Cao Cheng decided to fan the flames.
He made a standalone post:
"Next month, we break 3,000. Not even Jesus can stop it. I said so!"
The title was provocative.
The content? Even more so.
"Who agrees? Who objects?"
Just six words.
Enough to make veins bulge.
Who did he think he was?
Lurking haters couldn’t resist resurfacing to rage.
Most experts were predicting a pullback, eyeing 2,300.
Yet here he was, claiming 3,000?
Defying the market?
Begging for a beating?
And worse—
these people were counting on a correction to enter. If Cao Cheng was right, they’d miss out entirely.
How could they not be furious?
Or desperate?
Because hate aside, even his enemies had to admit—Aotian had skills.
Turning 5 million into 50 million in three months?
That wasn’t just impressive—it was headline-worthy.
So,
they feared he might be right. Many hadn’t boarded yet. If there was no correction, they’d watch helplessly as others profited.
Why not buy now?
Because this post triggered their defiance.
And fear—what if a correction did come? They’d lose first before breaking even. Pointless.
Who else could they blame but him?
Of course,
for every hater, there were more bootlickers.
Who’d turn down money?
Only idiots.
So,
many replies were sycophantic—some even from haters’ alt accounts, swallowing their pride.
Most begged for stock tips.
But Cao Cheng wouldn’t recommend any. That was dangerous.
A misstep could draw regulatory scrutiny.
He could only discuss the broader market.
In January,
a single-day 3.68% drop sent his enemies into euphoria.
They celebrated for two days.
Then Monday came—a 4.74% surge.
Silence.
The weekend’s joy turned to Monday’s agony.
Cao Cheng began responding one by one to those weekend adversaries: "I'm not targeting anyone in particular—what I'm saying is, all of you are just small fries!"
Then, the momentum kept climbing.
Breaking through 3000!
The sound of wailing filled the air.
...
Truth be told, when the bull market arrives, more people lose money than during a bear market, and the losses are even heavier.
It’s a real blow to confidence.
By the end of this year, a lot of seasoned retail investors will probably 'retire from the game'!
Hmm.
Or maybe... they still won’t have broken even by 2025.
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)
. As long as he maintains the villain image and follows the plot to the grand finale, he can obtain generous rewards and return to the real world. So Gu Chen'an entered the role and began to act as a scumbag villain, but who would have expected that the female leads could hear his inner thoughts. Miss Su from the Su family was shocked: "I originally thought Gu Chen'an was a scumbag, but I didn't expect he turned out to be a gentleman! What? You said I have to call off the engagement? I definitely won't, I'll piss you off!" Bai Yuan Tian was dumbfounded: "Young Master Gu is usually unreasonable and a complete brat, but he actually calls me little sweetie in his heart? What, Young Master Gu even said he likes me?" As the female leads' images collapsed more and more, the plot also collapsed with it. Gu Chen'an looked at all this chaos. "Ladies, don't aggro me, if you keep this up the male lead really will stab me, I still need to survive to the grand finale!"
ver to a world of cultivation and returned invincible. Modern medicine is child's play compared to elixirs; technological might crumbles before true cultivation. My name is Qin Ning, Earth's sole cultivator!
