That evening.
Cao Cheng performed a ritual of burning incense and cleansing himself.
For the third time, he opened a divine-level treasure chest.
The cultivation technique he had been longing for appeared.
But not entirely.
It was a divine-level movement technique called Phantom Steps, which utilized mental energy.
From a martial arts perspective, it was a form of qinggong (lightness skill).
When activated, it left afterimages in its wake, allowing the user to change direction mid-air, defying physics.
In modern terms, this technique could even dodge bullets.
It was absurd.
But... it couldn’t grant immortality.
Just pure movement.
"..."
"Another divine-level escape skill?"
"Damn it..."
Cao Cheng was speechless.
Three divine-level treasure chests—one for revival, one for teleportation, and now this movement technique...
"Am I really that doomed?"
"Does the system have to be this worried about my safety?"
"Thanks a lot."
[Ding~]
[After opening three divine-level treasure chests, the system is upgrading...]
[Please wait!]
[Countdown: 30 days!]
"..."
Cao Cheng had assumed he’d need ten, but surprisingly, opening just three triggered the system’s upgrade condition.
A pleasant surprise from the system.
And the upgrade would take a full month.
By then, the system’s range should cover the entire country, right?
...
...
The weekend passed in a blink.
Tang Xin had been swamped those two days, scouring through all kinds of data, including news events.
Even though the markets were closed over the weekend, information never stopped flowing.
Authorities made statements.
Institutions released announcements.
Foreign investors, including banks in Hong Kong, leaked insights.
A flood of data required professional analysis.
Tang Xin’s team hadn’t rested, working overtime to dissect everything...
Naturally,
they also analyzed every post made by ‘Stock God Aotian,’ hoping to glean something from his words.
...
Monday morning.
Less than an hour before the market opened.
In the office, most of the men sported dark under-eye circles, having barely slept the past two days.
They only dozed off on camp beds when exhaustion became unbearable.
"Director Tang, based on our consolidated reports and risk assessments, along with market indicators, the stock market’s structure is currently solid, and technical signals show no issues."
"The consensus is that the uptrend will continue, gaining at least 100 points!"
"As for a pullback, it might happen."
"But it won’t be severe—the lowest it could drop is 3867, the 60-day moving average."
"..."
As her team reported, Tang Xin remained silent, deep in thought.
Her own analysis aligned with theirs.
She had initially believed the market wouldn’t fall below 3900!
Even if it dipped briefly, a wave of buy orders would likely stabilize prices.
A pullback was just that—a minor correction.
If the market crashed,
technical indicators, structures, and moving averages would all break down.
Once systemic risks and a loss of market confidence set in, no human intervention could stop it.
But...
Tang Xin now carried herself like a queen.
Her expression was unreadable, a far cry from her usual starstruck demeanor.
Tang Xin said, "We’ve all seen Stock God Aotian’s posts. Some of you have even interacted with him—argued with him, in fact."
"I’ll be honest—I met him over the weekend."
"..."
"..."
The team froze.
No one expected Director Tang to have a direct line to him.
After all,
Stock God Aotian was a sensation—earning over 500 million in two months had landed him in the news.
Countless media outlets wanted interviews, but none had succeeded.
"Director Tang, what did he say?"
Facing their curiosity, Tang Xin hesitated. "His view is that the correction won’t stop at 3800. He urged me to think bigger."
"Is he insane?"
"Seriously?"
"He really thinks he’s a stock god?"
"Does he even understand what happens if it drops below 3800?"
"I need to go online and curse him out."
The team was on edge, sleep-deprived and irritable.
It dawned on them—the reason they’d been grinding through overtime was because this bastard had fed their boss some doomsday prophecy.
They’d even dug up seven-year-old archives, poring over documents until their vision blurred.
They hated him for it.
...
Tang Xin frowned slightly.
She didn’t appreciate hearing them trash Cao Cheng.
Before, she wouldn’t have cared—she didn’t know him.
But after meeting him, her bias leaned in his favor.
Still...
These were her subordinates. She couldn’t scold them, so she just pointed at the screen. "Keep an eye on the market when it opens."
With that, she left the meeting room for her office, craving a quiet coffee while monitoring the market alone.
...
But the drama didn’t end there.
The moment Tang Xin was gone, the meeting room erupted.
Expletives flew.
Even female brokers joined in.
Didn’t they know lack of sleep aged women faster?
The industry was stressful enough without some guy making them waste two days on nonsense.
Damn it!
If it were a legitimate concern, fine—but this? Ridiculous.
They understood why Tang Xin took it seriously. Stock God Aotian might be a jerk, but his track record demanded attention.
It was human nature to heed his warnings.
But understanding didn’t stop the rage.
They weren’t just venting—they wanted everyone else to join in.
So,
someone made a post.
Title: Do You Really Think You’re a Stock God?
The post laid out their ordeal, proving they had insider credibility—this wasn’t baseless slander.
It also confirmed Stock God Aotian had indeed predicted a drop below 3800.
The poster didn’t hide behind anonymity, using their verified account instead. As a minor expert with followers and connections,
their allies rushed to back them up.
"Stock God? More like delusional. Who actually believes this crap?"
"Pfft. Anyone can call themselves a stock god these days."
"Made a little money and lost his damn mind."
"Some no-name ‘god’ thinking he’s hot stuff..."
"In a bull market, even a dog can profit. But some mutts forget it’s luck, not skill. Seen it a million times."
Most industry peers felt invincible—with so many piling on, it was mob mentality at its finest.
Overnight,
Stock God Aotian had somehow ‘offended’ the entire finance world. The backlash spread like wildfire.
It triggered the spiral of silence.
Even those who believed in him stayed quiet.
Of course,
a few brave souls defended Cao Cheng, but their comments were either deleted or buried under the tidal wave of mockery.
For example:
"He practices what he preaches—if he says the market’s falling, he steps back. What’s wrong with having a different opinion?"
"Truth often lies with the minority. If everyone’s bullish and only the Stock God’s bearish, I’ll trust him."
"..."
Unfortunately,
this kind of public opinion is too scarce, offering far too little positive sentiment.
Even Young Master Cao couldn’t be bothered to respond to them.
Instead, he eagerly dove into a war of words with his opponents, skillfully cursing their ancestors eighteen generations back with practiced ease.
...
The post simmered for a while.
Then Monday arrived, and the market opened.
A gap-up opening.
A clear sign of investors' strong confidence.
And that day, the market didn’t just open high—it kept climbing, soaring from around 4170 to 4270 in a single session!
This only fueled the flames of the online feud, with everyone mocking the so-called "stock god."
Weren’t we supposed to see a correction? A major pullback, all the way below 3800?
And yet?
We’re almost at 4300!
What do you have to say now?
Young Master Cao didn’t bother with explanations—he just kept cursing. Why waste all this free emotional ammunition?
His eyes were practically glowing with excitement.
Whoever started this thread was a godsend.
His own posts these days barely attracted any haters—most of the backlash was handled by his loyal followers, which meant the enemy never really gathered in one place.
These fans were practically stealing his business. Annoying as hell.
But this new post? It was like a magnet for trolls.
A goldmine!
...
Tang Xin sat in her office, quietly watching the market trends, her thoughts drifting far away.
Had he really been wrong?
Was this his first mistake?
Then she spotted the heated forum thread and immediately recognized the poster—one of her subordinates.
Frowning, she fell silent.
Eventually, Tang Xin pulled out her phone and called Cao Cheng—she still had his number from before.
“I’m sorry, that information came from me. It was supposed to be an internal discussion, but somehow…”
“No problem!” Cao Cheng replied with just two words before hanging up.
He was busy.
The war of words couldn’t stop!
Today was a day of harvest.
But his curt response made Tang Xin’s heart sink. Was he angry?
For some reason, she felt an inexplicable pang of frustration and sadness.
...
The next day!
The market rose again, breaking past 4333 in one go…
The online battle grew even fiercer, the mockery even louder.
Until the third day…
Whoosh—
↓
Silence.
Every single hater shut their mouths.
Only Cao Cheng kept going.
“Why so quiet?”
“What’s wrong, folks? Not feeling chatty today?”
“Where’d all the experts go?”
“Care to explain this, oh wise ones?”
“Damn it, don’t just stand there—keep cursing!!”
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)
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.
spital. Good news: I've bound a system. Bad news: I'm still a baby. "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river, do not bully the middle-aged for being poor — Divorce Comeback System." "Your marriage may have failed, but your luck in love has never run dry. Your childhood sweetheart, out of contact for twenty years, reappears. Her beauty remains, yet her eyes are brimming with tears." [Listen to the childhood sweetheart's sorrowful story.] Chen Zhi looked down at the diaper he was wearing, then at the little childhood sweetheart crying her heart out beside him, and fell into deep thought. Can anyone relate? I'm having a midlife crisis at an age where even rolling over is a struggle.
world slacker. But a genius female disciple just had to get clingy, insisting that he take her as a disciple. Not only that, she was always making advances on him, thoroughly disrupting his peaceful slacker life...
