Chapter 71: Liquidating Yadi Energy—Farewell, My Friend

The tragedy of the fat merchant was far from over today.

Not even five minutes after Ren Zhong walked away, Zheng Tian arrived.

Spotting the portly figure from afar, she called out, “Uncle Wang! What a rare sight! What wind blew you here today?”

Wang Zhaofu, the fat merchant, sat cross-legged on the steps, listlessly waving his hand. “Oh, it’s Xiaotiantian.”

Seeing his wilted expression, Zheng Tian teased, “What’s wrong, Uncle Wang? You look like a pickled cucumber that’s been left out in the cold.”

Wang Zhaofu waved his hand more vigorously. “Oh, go on with you. Show some respect. Let me tell you, just now there was a man…”

Five minutes later—

Pfft—

Wang Zhaofu spat blood.

Wasn’t this the perfect buyer right in front of him?

Damn it! Twenty points gone, just like that!

Yet Wang Zhaofu was not the most heartbroken.

Beside him, Zheng Tian was even more stunned, her face ashen. She clutched her chest in silence.

She first checked the balance on her wristband, then began to question her very existence.

Just a little more, and she could have…

The Thunderbolt! The ticket to Mouse Cliff Mountain! Aaaah!

It was a heart-wrenching pain.

It was just missing out on a car, yet why did it feel as if she had lost her entire life?

For a long moment, the mismatched pair—one old, one young, one fat, one thin—looked at each other and sighed in unison.

“Ai~~~”

Meanwhile, the beneficiary, Ren Zhong, was not lost in the thrill of his easy twenty points.

He had noticed something new.

During his conversation with the fat merchant, Ren Zhong had paid close attention to him.

The merchant’s accent and dress were slightly different from the locals of Spark Town; he didn’t seem to be from around here.

In times like these, outsiders were rarer than pandas.

Zheng Tian had called him Wang Zhaofu.

Ren Zhong instinctively sensed there was more to this bearded, rotund merchant.

He remembered clearly that the first time Zheng Tian had mentioned the Thunderbolt, her words were different.

She’d said it was a discarded vehicle from a team captain she knew.

But that didn’t make sense.

There were very few semi-professional teams in Spark Town stronger than Zheng Tian’s; everyone was roughly equal.

Now it was clear—there had been deception.

Zheng Tian had lied.

Behind every lie, there is a truth someone wants to hide. Lies always have a reason.

It seemed Zheng Tian did not want him to know, at the time, that she had connections with traveling merchants from elsewhere.

Ren Zhong deduced that her lie was probably related to his then-role as a “Census Officer.”

The Thunderbolt was a complete vehicle from Origin Star Military Industries, a second-level military item.

The car was nearly new, superbly maintained—nowhere near retirement.

So what was Wang Zhaofu, this fat merchant, really doing? Smuggling, most likely!

No wonder he avoided the Census Officer.

In any era, smugglers are never simple folk—they’re resourceful, well-connected, and know the ropes.

Ren Zhong quietly committed his name to memory. If an opportunity arose, he would make good use of this man.

The “red list” in his little notebook gained a new entry.

A moment later, Ren Zhong parked the car.

You never realize the price of daily needs until you run a household; only now that he owned a vehicle did he realize there was a parking fee.

He chose a medium-sized spot—0.2 points a day.

Zheng Tian’s team’s cargo van wasn’t so lucky; though their vehicle was dilapidated, it still required a large spot—0.3 points a day.

Ren Zhong then rode his motorcycle to Zheng Tian’s small courtyard.

Apart from the team captain, who was outside facing the cold wind, everyone else was inside.

Some watched TV and chatted; others were still engrossed in their books.

Ren Zhong joined them, grabbing a handful of sunflower seeds from the table and snacking quietly.

Chen Hanyu, who’d been reading, put down her tablet and made him a cup of tea.

Soon after, the victim herself, Captain Zheng, returned.

Before Ren Zhong could speak, Ou Youning, one of the bystanders, beat him to it: “Captain, what happened to you? You look like a pickled cucumber!”

The true originator of the “cucumber” joke was Ou Youning.

Zheng Tian flinched.

Retribution, it seemed, had arrived.

With a dark face, she recounted everything that had happened.

After her story, the small courtyard fell silent.

Ou Youning put his sunflower seeds down, suddenly losing his appetite.

For a long while, he clutched his chest and wailed, “Heavens! The gods are blind!”

Bai Feng sighed. “Sigh.”

Wen Lei tried to rally them, “Come on, everyone, don’t be like this. At least we still have the van.”

Zheng Tian sighed again, “Even though not many in town can afford it at that price, it really was a bargain. We were so close to saving enough. The seller is someone I know. Even if we were a little short, we could have reserved it. A couple more days and we’d have had enough. How could someone snatch it out from under us? So frustrating!”

Ou Youning fumed, “Who’s the heartless bastard?”

Zheng Tian replied, “I asked Uncle Wang if he could find out who bought the car. He said he didn’t know them—a new face. Not one of the other semi-professional team captains.”

Ou Youning concluded, “So it’s a bold newcomer ready to start his own team. Damn. I curse everyone who joins his team—may they all develop hemorrhoids the size of fists just from sitting in his car! May he never recruit a single follower!”

Ren Zhong could no longer remain silent. He patted Ou Youning on the shoulder in consolation. “That’s a bit harsh. No need for that. It’s just a car, not the end of the world. Keep working hard, and your opportunity will come.”

The others’ attention shifted to Ren Zhong, and their moods lifted somewhat.

Zheng Tian rubbed her aching temples, thinking to herself.

True, the last few days had been unlucky, as if cursed.

But Mr. Ren was still here, and as long as he was, there was hope.

She nodded firmly. “Thank you for the encouragement, Mr. Ren. We’ll be strong!”

…

That night, Mouse Cliff Mountain was swept by violent, bloody winds.

Another night passed, and once more the mountain was battered by storms of blood.

On the afternoon of the sixth day, Ren Zhong allowed himself a rare respite. Instead of going to the training ground, he remained in his prefab room and slept.

He finally splurged on a hypnosis session.

He would sleep from 8 a.m. until 4 p.m., spending a full eight hours in the dream space.

The reason was simple: Yadi Energy was finally about to cash out.

After two nights of fierce battle on Mouse Cliff Mountain and two days of high-frequency trades, he’d accumulated 523.29 points. But compared to the profit he stood to make by cashing out from Yadi Energy, that was pocket change.

With more money comes more trouble; he couldn’t afford to be careless.

Ren Zhong was on high alert, opening his stock app half an hour in advance.

After nearly six days of turbulent upward movement, Yadi Energy’s weekly gain had reached a staggering 283.11%.

The weekly chart looked like an unsheathed sword stabbing into the sky, standing tall among the clouds, radiant and peerless, lording over the market.

It had weathered the storms of the market, rising and falling with each wave.

In the end, it had defeated every demon and monster, standing triumphant at the summit.

Zoom in to a single day, and every day brought a new crop of dazzling competitors strutting their stuff—only to be defeated in turn.

As a witness to the entire process, Ren Zhong felt it deeply.

Though he had dabbled with each fleeting, tempting stock, the one he truly loved was always this one.

Such is the allure of a weekly champion: stable and powerful.

Holding it in his hands was holding onto happiness.

The discussion forum for Yadi Energy was already in a state of jubilation.

Just reading the thread titles, Ren Zhong could almost smell the scent of money.

Many investors were boasting about their timing and gains.

Some were sharing photos and videos of their new, extravagant lives.

They had already achieved financial freedom and would continue to follow Yadi Energy, the pioneer of battery technology, toward ever better lives.

Ren Zhong browsed through many posts.

Through these photos and videos, he caught more glimpses of the world’s true nature.

Just as he’d suspected, almost all the investors were citizens.

And most citizens lived in cities, large or small.

Very few came from small towns like Spark Town.

Ren Zhong saw the headquarters of Deep Info Group, a vast metropolis, and other cities rivaling it in scale and splendor.

There were also medium and small cities; though not as technologically advanced, their architecture and materials still far surpassed anything a 21st-century Chinese could imagine.

The disparity between these dream cities and the desolation of Spark Town was so stark, it made the difference between Shanghai and Mexico City seem ten times more dramatic.

It made Ren Zhong wonder if they were even on the same planet.

Origin Star was a post-apocalyptic world—but only for the wildlings.

…

Finally, the stock rose 285.79%!

It was time!

Sell!

He cashed out 3,769.22 points, minus taxes and commissions of 13.34, for a net gain of 3,760.52 points!

Adding in his earnings from hunting and short-term trading, his wealth soared to 4,283.81 points!

Though he already knew the outcome, the tension was real. Once his gains were secured, Ren Zhong in the dream space couldn’t help but breathe a long sigh of relief.

This time, he’d truly struck it rich!

He was no longer poor, freed at last from the mire of living hand-to-mouth.

Rounded up, he was practically a ten-thousand-point tycoon!

Ren Zhong didn’t log off immediately, but glanced again at Yadi Energy.

By now the gain had slipped slightly, down to 284.68%.

But the forum remained lively.

No one realized that a slow-moving nightmare was silently approaching.

Ren Zhong had no idea what the future would hold, but over the next ten days, Yadi Energy did not collapse like Ansheng Biotech had. Instead, its decline was slow and shaky, like an old woman tottering down a hill.

It always looked as though the bull market might return for another surge—but it never did.

The 285.79% mark was the true peak; ten days later, its price would sink back to 15.22.

Everything else was an illusion, a dull knife cutting into people’s souls.

Yadi Energy’s damage far surpassed that of Ansheng Biotech.

A weekly champion stock with even more allure became an even stronger black hole.

Ren Zhong quietly closed the stock app.

Forget it. I’m no savior.

The misfortunes of these middle-class citizens have nothing to do with me.

He was also exercising self-restraint.

He could buy a level-four wristband now, but that would drain all the capital he had so painstakingly amassed.

Ren Zhong decided to play the long game, maximizing every hour’s potential.

He would stay in the market until day sixteen, cashing out only when his “Stock Market Oracle” skill expired, and only then buy the level-four wristband.

I’ve been careful enough this time, never provoking any professional teams. Surely my luck can’t be that bad again.

If I can last sixteen days, everything should go smoothly.

His next target was set for four o’clock the following morning, when he’d enter the market on schedule.

Tonight, he could finally allow himself a rare holiday.

After eight hours of sleep during the day, he’d take another nap.

Then, with another eight hours of hypnotic sleep at night, he’d finally make up for all the missed rest from his nocturnal battles.

A perfect plan.

Waking at four in the afternoon, Ren Zhong wasted no time and went straight to the training ground, practicing until 8:15.

Afterwards, he lay down in the lounge, waiting for Wen Lei, his human taxi, to come at 8:30 sharp.

He’d already made arrangements with everyone that morning.

Tonight, in a rare gesture of benevolence, he would grace the communal sleeping pods, “rewarding” everyone with a group slumber.

With luck, from tomorrow onwards, the half-professional team captain Zheng Tian would finally turn her luck around and lead her ragtag crew to a modest profit.

He’d kept them down long enough; it was time to give them a break.

But something strange happened.

Wen Lei, usually punctual, was late.

Ren Zhong waited until 8:45 before Wen Lei finally arrived, limping in through the door.

A conspicuous wound—over an inch deep and four inches long—marked his neck.

The wound appeared to have been sprayed with an emergency hemostatic agent.

Wen Lei was stubbornly holding on. “Sorry, Mr. Ren, I’m late.”

Ren Zhong, who had been lying down, sat bolt upright. “Never mind me—what happened to you? Where is everyone else?”