Chapter 83: The Invisible Sea of Blood

Within the stock trading app of the sleep space, Ren Zhong lay in wait, quietly watching the interface of Liancheng Reed Grain Liquor Company. The atmosphere here was as feverish as ever, even more so than Yadi Energy. The carnage in Yadi Energy was still fresh in memory, yet investors had launched an even wilder celebration in Liancheng Reed Grain, a second round of madness.

This time, it wasn’t just retail investors joining in. After several public and private funds released their latest holdings reports in the past two days, traders suddenly realized that everyone was “drinking.” Not long ago, the so-called sages of the market, who quoted classics and analyzed tirelessly that luxury alcohol businesses in the food sector had no future and no economic or social foundation to support such soaring stock prices, were utterly humiliated. Those who believed the rumors, or trusted their own judgment, lambasted these market veterans mercilessly.

Some investors dug up these veterans’ own holdings, discovering that while they spread doom and gloom, they were quietly increasing their positions. The market became a chaotic battlefield: many scrambled to buy more while openly posting kill orders, swearing vengeance against certain individuals, promising to settle scores in this life or the next.

In the midst of this chaos, all the well-known retail investors who bet against Liancheng Reed Grain ended up badly, except for the legendary Huang, whose fame was sealed in the battle over Yibin Paper Company just days before. Not only did he bet against Liancheng Reed Grain, he boldly published screenshots of his short positions, a true pioneer who matched words with action. From then on, Huang’s reputation as the “Reverse Oracle” soared sky-high. Countless people praised him, saying he was rich and generous, helping both the poor and the wealthy. Many fans posted full order screenshots on his virtual personal account. Every time he made a post, within seconds, people would rush in, going all-in without even reading.

Looking back, they really did strike it rich. Some die-hard fans even claimed they wanted to gift him a mansion inside the third ring of Deep City—the headquarters of Deep News Group. Thankfully, it was only talk; otherwise, Huang would have achieved financial freedom and disappeared from the market forever.

In this bizarre and almost mystical atmosphere, the brewing sector, led by Liancheng Reed Grain and supported by other liquor companies, soared above all others, standing out as the undisputed champion. Compared to ten days ago, Liancheng Reed Grain’s stock price had launched from 41.21 points, increasing by 610%. Many had changed their tune, now forcefully analyzing the market from every angle to find convincing reasons for the rise.

For example: after long, stable development, although Yuanxing’s population hadn’t grown obviously in the short term, social productivity had reached a bottleneck, society was more stable, and a population surge was imminent. As citizens accumulated wealth, more people could afford top-tier luxury goods priced at hundreds of contribution points per bottle. Therefore, with Liancheng Reed Grain’s flagship profit margin, its stock price was entirely sustainable. At under three hundred points per share, it hadn’t reached the ceiling yet; this takeoff was merely a prelude to further ascent.

Ren Zhong read countless posts from the forum’s wild crowd, then searched for related news in the daily headlines. After a long while, he sighed deeply. Human nature truly was terrifying. Even someone as calm as he was secretly hoping for Liancheng Reed Grain to keep rising.

With the current price per share, even a 5% increase would net him dozens of points per share, earning him hundreds more. It had already risen so much, would a bit more be too much to ask? He began to wonder: aside from needing to buy a level-four wristwatch, he had no major expenses for now—should he wait and see how the afternoon went?

After nine fifteen in the morning, prices would dip a little, but not dramatically; maybe another surge would come this afternoon. Wouldn’t it be a shame to miss out? Could this round double and double again? His soon-to-be-recovered twenty thousand points might become forty thousand, or even a hundred thousand!

He started to waver on whether to cash out today. He was truly shaken. Adrenaline rushed through him. His heart raced. He found every possible reason to convince himself.

Liancheng Reed Grain was a blue-chip stock, involving massive funds—not like small caps such as Ansheng Bio, so there was no reason for a dramatic crash. With holdings widely dispersed among millions of investors, many had recently entered at high prices, risking everything. If it plunged, how many would be ruined? Even if it dropped, it would probably be a slow decline; setting a 5% stop-loss would suffice. He wouldn’t lose much, would he?

...

In this terrifying inner struggle, at nine fifteen, Ren Zhong gritted his teeth and placed a sell order, cashing out at a peak increase of 611.96%, selling at 293.4 per share. As the transaction completed, the sleeping Ren Zhong shuddered, startling Chen Hanyu, whose thigh was his pillow.

Ren Zhong’s excitement and turmoil rivaled the joy he felt when his team first challenged and defeated the Blade Mantis. Yet now, his heart was mostly empty, an emptiness that threatened to swallow him. He struggled mightily to resist the urge to re-enter at 291.5 per share.

What ultimately pushed him to sell and resist temptation was his deep understanding of Yuanxing human nature. Those who controlled Liancheng Reed Grain were not ordinary capital, nor ordinary people. Such individuals cared nothing for the lives of those beneath them, neither outcasts nor citizens.

...

At ten thirty in the morning, Ren Zhong—sleeping on Chen Hanyu’s lap—suddenly opened his eyes wide and sat up abruptly. In the process, his face brushed across two peaks, catching a faint scent of laundry detergent.

Chen Hanyu’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she glanced at him nervously and shyly. But she saw in Ren Zhong’s eyes a look of utter shock.

“Mr. Ren, what’s wrong?” she asked, blushing.

Ren Zhong exhaled deeply, forced a bitter smile, wiped cold sweat from his forehead, and replied dismissively, “Nothing.” He placed a hand over his heart, controlling its pounding beat. He was still shaken but secretly delighted—he had indeed dodged a bullet.

From nine fifteen onward, Liancheng Reed Grain’s price merely wavered, dipping slightly with small fluctuations. But at nine thirty, a huge number of sell orders suddenly appeared at around 180 per share, without warning. This was simply irrational, inexplicable—a plunge had begun.

Those sell orders were quickly absorbed. Then, offers at 160 appeared, also absorbed but more slowly. Around ten, offers at 100 appeared and weren’t absorbed even after half an hour. Now, the sell side was flooded with offers around 100, but the buy side was empty.

In just an hour and forty-five minutes, Liancheng Reed Grain was locked at around 100, halved and halved again. Everyone was trapped.

Afterward, it kept falling, down to 80; only at ten fifteen did buying begin to trickle in. The dust had settled.

The forum was first silent as death. Then, from ten twenty onward, posts covered in blood began to appear.

There were outcasts from small towns, weeping as they confessed to squandering a decade’s savings of their parents, wives, and children, then taking their own lives in despair. Citizens in cities, staring at their accounts forcibly liquidated into the negative, were hopeless—not only had they lost all their contribution points, their credit points had plummeted into the red. They and their families lost their citizenship.

Some citizens, now in debt to loan sharks, were sending their twelve- or thirteen-year-old daughters to the creditor’s home.

There were also scavenger team captains among the outcasts, who charged desperately at level-five Ruin Beasts. All their equipment had been pledged to the Arson Bank; if they failed to kill the beast by the next day, they would lose everything. Their three wives and seven or eight children would surely be tormented by enemies. Fight or die—so they died.

After reading hundreds of these posts, which were rising rapidly, Ren Zhong deeply realized that the stock market in a harsh society was ten or a hundred times more dangerous than in a stable one—a sea of invisible blood.

Both frightened and excited, Ren Zhong checked his account statement:

“Sold 100 shares of Liancheng Reed Grain Liquor Company, received 29,273.86 contribution points, paid 58.68 in stamp tax, paid 7.33 commission. Account balance: 30,989.27 points.”

He was wealthy now. Though not particularly happy, he was indeed rich.

His body felt drained, just as when he escaped the White Bone Valley days before. He wiped sweat from his face, feeling relief at surviving disaster.

“Mr. Ren… did you just have a nightmare?” Chen Hanyu suddenly gasped, her face full of fright.

Ren Zhong, now calm, intended to go along with her suggestion. But he keenly noticed something odd in her expression. Even Zheng Tian, driving up front, slammed the brakes and turned around, “Mr. Ren, don’t joke like that!” Wen Lei, Bai Feng, and Ou Youning were all similarly tense.

Ren Zhong vaguely understood. He shook his head, “No nightmare. I just accidentally experienced a horror movie in the internet through my wristwatch—it was quite well made.”

“Phew!” The other five in the car exhaled deeply.

Chen Hanyu patted her chest, “That scared me.”

“Haha, look at you all nervous. It’s fine, I’ll keep sleeping. Wake me at noon.”

Closing his eyes, Ren Zhong mused, is the first symptom of sudden death from disrupted biological rhythms nightmares? That’s a reasonable rule. But I won’t have nightmares, because this planet is already a real nightmare for me. All I want is to shatter it.

After a busy day, the team returned early to the small town after five in the afternoon.

Changing outfits was like switching blades. Today’s harvest was good, even though Ren Zhong was less enthusiastic, the team still earned 300 points in total. Ren Zhong, who contributed most in the afternoon fight against a level-three Ruin Beast, refused 60% of the bonus, insisting on only 40%, taking 120 points.

Back at the courtyard, everyone strongly urged Ren Zhong to rest well. Wen Lei was even assigned as his personal bodyguard and caretaker, not allowing him near the training ground for any strenuous activity.

Ren Zhong got a taste of “pampering.” No matter what he wanted, Wen Lei was quicker than a rabbit, not letting him get up.

If he wanted tea, he just had to open his mouth, and a cup loaded with warm tea and a straw was brought to his lips. If he wanted to watch projection television, Wen Lei had already tuned it to the finance channel.

Yes, Zheng Tian had splurged on satellite TV, also buying a decent projection set and a pair of barely functional Roamer speakers from the supply store.

If he wanted to fart… Well, Wen Lei couldn’t help with that.

If not for Bei Lihui arriving near six as Lin Wang’s representative to invite Ren Zhong to dinner, Wen Lei might have driven him insane.

Delicious Fresh Restaurant, located at the heart of the wealthy district inside Spark Town’s white walls, usually served only citizens with pure natural food, small with seven or eight tables, no different from a private kitchen. Among outcasts, only professional teams could occasionally afford to dine there.

In a corner of the restaurant’s hall, Ren Zhong, beaming, toasted and chatted happily with Lin Wang, Bei Lihui, and two female members of other professional teams. The atmosphere was friendly, as if old friends reunited.

Especially the sultry and fiery Pan Fenglian sitting next to Ren Zhong, half her body pressed against his shoulder. She was the demolition expert of her team, apparently just passed the level-four title exam. Dressed in red leather, with a deep neckline and obvious cleavage.

The other woman, Sima Wan, seemed to be a level-four disassembler, less attractive and less enthusiastic, but still wore a faint smile.

Lin Wang, having seen through Ren Zhong’s mundane nature after the incident with Ju Qingmeng, tailored tonight’s setup accordingly. Ren Zhong now found himself in a bind—he knew Lin Wang had a certain “persona” of him in mind. This was the weakness he deliberately revealed to Lin Wang, letting her think he was easily controlled.

Therefore, he didn’t want to overturn this persona now. But Pan Fenglian was truly bold, hard to handle. After just two cups of fruit wine, she was already acting tipsy and clinging to him, her hands not at all well-behaved, her acting crude and direct.

Lin Wang sat opposite, smiling and urging more drinks, insisting that although professionals should avoid alcohol, this was low-strength fruit wine and wouldn’t matter.

Ren Zhong was finding it hard to fend off. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy for himself and Pan Fenglian. Back in his doctoral days, he’d dealt with entrepreneurs and faced similar scenes. Then, he only had to put on his aloof scholar act, and those with ulterior motives would politely back off—no drinks, no people pushed at him. He was then desireless and fearless.

But now, he faced Lin Wang, who could kill him like slaughtering a chicken. The more warmly he smiled, the more alert he was inside. For his own safety and that of Zheng Tian’s team, he had to keep exposing his weaknesses, further lulling Lin Wang.

So tonight…

Ren Zhong felt a chill in his heart.

I have walked upright and clear for years, will I finally fall to Pan Fenglian, a wild and reckless woman obviously dependent on Lin Wang?

Just as Pan Fenglian’s claws were about to reach forbidden territory, Ren Zhong’s eyes lit up—a savior appeared!

After a whole day’s toil in the underground lab, Sun Miao, the worker, pushed open the doors of Delicious Fresh, swaggering in step by step.

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