Forum.
Cao Cheng started another new thread.
This time, it was his longest post yet.
Previously, his posts rarely exceeded a dozen words.
But this time,
Young Master Cao wrote a short essay, pouring out his emotions and thoughts.
With genuine sincerity, he wanted to share his feelings and outlook on the future with his "comrades" on the forum.
Even though they had been trading insults for nearly half a year,
"Fighting breeds familiarity," as they say.
Many had developed a bond—a brotherhood.
"Bro, you’ve lost weight. Did you take another L yesterday? The dust of the road can’t hide that dumbass face of yours…"
The thread’s title: "Taking a Break!"
Content:
"After two grueling months, my capital has reached ten figures. Sigh, it’s left me feeling strangely unmotivated. Money has just become a string of numbers."
"I envy you all, honestly."
"I envy those who missed the boat, those who aren’t making much. At least your emotions still fluctuate—you still feel human."
"Not like me. My emotions are completely flatlined now."
"Whether I make ten million or a million in a day, it all just feels like a meaningless sequence of digits, stacking up endlessly, more and more…"
"I don’t feel human anymore."
"I feel like a god!"
"Devoid of human emotions."
"So, I need to take a break and figure out how to spend all this money. It’s honestly stressful. Having too much money with no way to spend it is a kind of suffering. You can’t take it with you when you die—you get what I mean, right?"
"Sigh!"
"I envy you all so much!"
"..."
"..."
"@#!$…&a;!"
"Go f yourself! @#&a;!&a;…"
The forum’s humanity blossomed like flowers—everyone was spewing venom.
Of course,
Even cursing nonstop gets boring after a while.
So, after the initial wave of insults, many long-time lurkers emerged.
Despite Cao Cheng’s daily flame wars, he had a surprisingly large following—hundreds of thousands of people tracked his posts.
A true OG internet celebrity.
"Stock God, is now a good time to enter? Will it keep rising?"
"Stock God, it won’t crash, right?"
"Stock God, will the market pull back to let people in?"
"Stock God, give us some direction, please. I’m begging you."
"I’ve got an 80-year-old mother, a three-year-old baby, and thirty-something concubines in between… I’ve got mouths to feed, bro. Take me with you. I’ve only made a tiny bit—not enough to survive."
What the hell.
This guy’s clearly already profited, and he still has the nerve to crack jokes?
……
……
"Pfft!"
In a skyscraper somewhere in Zhonghai,
A stunning woman spat out her coffee as she read the latest forum post, losing all pretense of elegance as she scrambled to wipe her screen clean.
A flicker of irritation crossed her face.
The term "humblebrag" hadn’t yet entered the lexicon, but she knew Stock God Aotian was flexing.
"This guy’s really laying it on thick."
"What’s his angle?"
"Trying to provoke people?"
"What’s the point?"
"He’s not even trying to be low-key. Isn’t he afraid someone will beat him up?"
Tang Xin shook her head with an amused smile.
She was a hotshot fund manager these past two years—though that was just one of her titles.
Behind the scenes, she was the heiress of the Tang family.
The capital she managed far exceeded Cao Cheng’s.
But…
None of it was hers personally. Some belonged to her family, some to investors.
Her performance was stellar.
During the bear market of recent years, her funds averaged a 27% annual return.
In other words, if she managed a fund worth 100 million,
After five years, it would have grown 3.3 times over.
And the capital she handled was far more than just 100 million.
Her name was Tang Xin!
The rising star of her generation.
The undisputed queen of finance in their circles.
……
She knew exactly who Cao Cheng was.
She had the connections to find out.
Coincidentally,
She’d noticed "Stock God Aotian" early on, initially dismissing him as just another skilled retail investor.
After all, his capital wasn’t substantial—just a standout among ordinary traders.
He had every right to be cocky.
And to seek validation online.
People like him weren’t rare.
But then,
His growth from millions…
Shocked her.
Yes.
Shocked her.
The amount wasn’t huge, but the annualized returns were terrifying!
From 5 million to 50 million in half a year—a 900% profit.
An annualized rate of 89,900%!
The capital might be small,
But the skill was undeniable.
It wasn’t clear which volatile stocks he’d bet on—his screenshots didn’t reveal much.
But Tang Xin was certain: he must’ve gone all-in, with pinpoint accuracy.
That’s when she started paying attention.
When his capital hit nine figures,
Cross-referencing his identity, Tang Xin uncovered Cao Cheng’s background.
And these past two months had been pure insanity.
……
For the first time, Tang Xin felt something unfamiliar—admiration.
Intense.
This man was formidable. And reckless.
Tang Xin gestured for her assistant to bring another coffee.
Then, watching the flame war unfold in the thread, she smirked.
She used to despise crude language.
But after months of lurking, she’d grown accustomed to these verbal brawls—even found them oddly cathartic.
"Taking a break?"
Tang Xin murmured to herself, "So the market’s about to stall? Maybe even pull back?"
She felt she understood Cao Cheng. His posts were infuriating, but they always seemed to hint at the truth.
And if you ignored the trolling and focused on the content,
You could glimpse his predictions for the future.
Most people, blinded by rage or envy, missed it entirely.
But anyone calm and rational enough to follow his posts could’ve ridden his coattails to profits—maybe not life-changing sums, but enough to feast.
So,
Tang Xin dissected this seemingly boastful post multiple times.
Looking past the surface, the essence was clear:
A market correction was coming.
And that aligned with basic economics.
Nothing rises forever.
The only questions were:
How long would it last?
And how deep would it go?
"I need to meet him!"
"I have to meet him!"
The idea took root in Tang Xin’s mind.
And once it did, it grew uncontrollable.
She even had the means to arrange it.
She’d just never acted on it before.
……
……
The weather was perfect today.
Around 20°C, partly cloudy, with a gentle breeze.
Lounging by the pool with a mojito (Jay Chou’s favorite), life couldn’t be better.
The past week had been nothing but rain and gloom.
Overcast skies were depressing—though the silver lining was that the entire south was equally miserable, thanks to the weather and the stock market.
And just moments ago,
Cao Cheng received his third divine treasure chest.
The first contained a Revival Card.
Last month, the second granted Teleportation!
That’s right.
Another god-tier ability: instantaneous movement.
Starting range: 100 meters.
Each 100-meter jump cost 1 point of mental energy.
Currently, Young Master Cao’s mental stat was at 80!
So,
Theoretically, he could teleport up to 8 kilometers in one go.
But it was safer to reserve at least 1 point to anchor his soul, so he preferred moving in 1-kilometer increments.
The Ultimate Escape Technique!
Cao Cheng has come to realize...
Aside from those useless skills, every single useful one is somehow related to escaping or saving his life.
Is the system that terrified of him getting killed?
"Let me draw another god-tier skill later."
"I refuse to believe it'll be another escape skill."
"I already have plenty of ways to stay alive."
"System, don’t worry about me dying—I’m lying low at home every day, so I won’t kick the bucket anytime soon."
"Can’t you just give me a cultivation technique or something?"
"I want immortality!"
Young Master Cao isn’t pretending anymore—he’s laying his cards on the table.
He doesn’t want to die.

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.”

for mindless slaughter, this isn't for you.] My name is Ye Shu, and I'm a transmigrator. It seems I'm supposed to be the protagonist, but that feels pretty unlikely. This world has been invaded by a system. The antagonists on the other side have suddenly become pure, flawless saints. The female leads have been force-fed the so-called "original plot," making them think they've been reborn. Now, everyone thinks I'm scum. Including the old lady in my ring. And here I am, in the Monster Beast Mountain Range, braising pork. To put my situation in perspective— It's as if, the moment Xiao Yan stepped into the Monster Beast Mountain Range, the Soul Emperor already knew he would become the Flame Emperor, and Yao Lao had been turned to the enemy's side. I have nothing right now. Oh wait, that's not true. I do have a white-haired loli child-bride who's the Heavenly Dao, and her only skill is acting cute. So, tell me guys... what are my chances of making it to the end?

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?"

nto another world, I bought a slave for the first time, never expecting the silver wolf girl to be so cute... Lin Feng: I know it's cold, but you don't have to sneak into my bed! Yuna: Just sharing body warmth, if you dare do anything naughty, I'll definitely...