Cao Cheng's theory was flawless.
That's just how it is when you have a good memory.
Well-versed in the classics of various schools, he could effortlessly quote authoritative sources at will.
Tang Xin frowned slightly.
Right now, she wasn’t in the mood to admire handsome men—after all, her money was tied up in this… along with the funds she managed.
It was an astronomical sum.
Clients paid hefty management fees every year precisely for the expertise of professionals like her.
Sure, the industry had its fair share of parasites.
But there was at least… one decent one.
Forget about making profits for now—her primary principle was ensuring investors didn’t lose their capital.
If the market correction turned severe, she’d have to act early.
If anyone else had warned her of a major downturn, she wouldn’t have believed them—she had her own judgment, after all.
But the man before her…
This was none other than the undefeated "Stock God Ao Tian."
Add to that her excellent first impression of Young Master Cao.
Both professionally and personally, emotionally and rationally, she leaned toward trusting Cao Cheng.
Tang Xin spoke gravely, "From what I’ve seen, around the 3900-point mark, there’s substantial capital forming a bottom, and many sectors are at their lowest levels. If the index breaks below 3900 and hits 3800, it’ll be a disaster, shaking investor confidence."
"Retail investors don’t think."
"Most of them, I mean. They just follow the herd, and they’re skittish. Once it drops below 3800, the market could collapse like an avalanche, completely destroying overall confidence and momentum."
"At that point, it won’t be institutions or big players selling off—it’ll be the small-time retail investors. The herd mentality will take over, and no rescue effort will work."
"Our market is dominated by retail investors, after all."
Tang Xin’s assessment wasn’t wrong.
But…
This year was different.
Foreign capital was in the mix.
Especially nowadays,
just a nudge of capital, paired with hype from overseas institutions, could lure retail investors back, driving the market up.
The worship of foreign trends was rampant these days.
……
Unfortunately, no matter what Tang Xin said,
Cao Cheng never revealed how deep the correction would ultimately go.
That was proprietary information.
And besides…
Tang Xin was smart enough not to ask for Cao Cheng’s target price. That would’ve crossed a line—they weren’t that close.
She could only brace herself and consider worse scenarios.
And that was only because she was giving "Stock God Ao Tian" face. Anyone else, and she wouldn’t have bothered.
3800?
3700?
3600 at most…
From 4170 down to 3600—what kind of drop was that? Unthinkable.
A plunge like that would shatter any remaining confidence.
Right now, Tang Xin wasn’t in the mood for romance. After chatting for a while—enough to consider them acquainted—she declined staying for dinner and left.
She needed a quiet space to think this through.
It was the weekend; she still had time to strategize.
Would the market shift when trading resumed next week?
She had to review her firm’s data and the analyses of industry heavyweights to corroborate Young Master Cao’s claims.
She was inclined to believe him.
But she needed verification to fully commit.
Otherwise, she’d trust the market—and herself—more.
If she didn’t even believe in herself, she wouldn’t have gotten this far.
……
After Tang Xin left,
Second Sister finally spoke up.
"What’s with the riddles? Why didn’t you tell her how much it’ll drop? Is that a secret?"
Second Sister was clueless.
Money didn’t faze her, and finance? She had zero understanding—nine out of ten holes unplugged, leaving just one still blocked!
"Is that a secret?" she repeated.
Know three days ahead, prosper for ten thousand years—ever heard of that?
And why should he tell her?
Did she pay him management fees?
Consultation fees?
She’s a competitor, for heaven’s sake!
The fact that he’d even shared what he did was only because she was pretty… no, because of Second Sister’s face.
Cao Cheng shot her an exasperated look. "If you don’t get it, just shut up."
Second Sister: "……"
Cao Cheng opened his mouth. "Ahhh~ honeydew."
Instinctively, Second Sister picked up a toothpick from the fruit platter, speared a piece of honeydew, and handed it to him.
Cao Cheng ate it in one bite—sweet and delicious.
But Second Sister froze.
Why had she automatically fed him?
Habit?
So annoying.
[Ding~ Negative emotions…]
Critical hit.
Second Sister flung the toothpick away, scowling. "I think you’ve trained before. Let’s spar?"
What a lunatic.
Cao Cheng gave her a sidelong glance.
Fighting her might earn him some negative emotion points,
but stringing her along yielded more—and the gains were infinite.
He shook his head. "I don’t fight."
"Your build says otherwise," Second Sister insisted.
Cao Cheng sighed. "Does training mean I have to fight?"
He continued lecturing her, "Martial arts is about external conditioning—strengthening the body."
"And internal cultivation—facing danger without fear!"
"It’s about attaining a state of mind, a refinement of character, a harmony with nature… not about brawling."
"I don’t know who taught you, but if your master is like you, I’d say he won’t live long."
"Throughout history, those who practiced true martial arts but sought violence all met untimely ends."
"Master Zhang lived to 218 precisely because he never fought."
"Second Sister."
"You."
"Need more training."
"In discipline!"
With the air of a seasoned sage, Cao Cheng stood, shook his head, sighed, and walked away.
Leaving Second Sister behind, her face twisted in frustration.
+100
+199
+299
+599
+1999…
……
Cao Cheng didn’t know the exact details of the secondary market’s movements.
His dreams hadn’t provided fine-grained events—just broad headlines.
Like how high the surge would go, how steep the correction would be, which speculative stocks would skyrocket, which small-caps would face maximum penalties, which blue-chips would…
That was all he knew.
But now, armed with theoretical knowledge, it was enough.
He knew the peak this time—4333 points!
Then the correction would bottom at… 3400!
A sheer, thousand-point freefall, like a raging flood or a cascading waterfall—utterly terrifying.
Major news outlets would cover it.
But it’d last only a day or two before rebounding, surging back within a week, then dropping again, then rising…
A relentless tug-of-war.
Scaring the amateurs out of the market—just before the bull run arrived.
Investors were so foolish…
No!
Investors were simple. When prices rose, they gained confidence; when they fell, they panicked.
Up and down, confidence came and went, until they grew numb and timid.
Yet these same people were profit-chasers.
In one word? They remembered the feast but forgot the beating.
When the bull market arrived, they’d forget past losses and crashes, rushing in with everything they had…
Hear that? Buy now or miss out! Hurry, get in fast, quick—!
And then they’d be left holding the bag at the peak.
By 2025, some still wouldn’t have broken even.
Now that’s what you call stock gods!
These folks were like Buffett—holding for decades without flinching. Steady as a rock!
……
So now, over the weekend, Cao Cheng called his investment advisor, instructing him to gather the traders for a meeting.
He ordered them to prepare for risk control next week.
Liquidate what should be liquidated.
And even what shouldn’t.
The index is only at 4170 now, still far from reaching the peak of 4333, but Cao Cheng has to exit—any later and he’d be buried.
Of course, he’d already liquidated part of his holdings earlier.
Right now, there’s still a few hundred million left in the market.
Besides, when the crash comes, he won’t buy at the absolute bottom either. With such a large capital pool, he’ll start buying in batches early, beginning at 3600 and continuing all the way down to 3400. Then, he’ll just wait for the surge to 6000…
That’s the plan, anyway.
Not like Young Master Cao has to lift a finger himself.
He pays his team those hefty salaries precisely so they can execute his orders flawlessly when it matters.
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!"
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?"
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.”
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
