Chapter 85: The Little Stock God Appears—Let Your Shares Rot in Your Hands

“Come and take a look, don’t miss out as you pass by!”
“A blind box with a 300% cashback—the most thrilling and exclusive gameplay, sincerely inviting everyone to come and experience!”
“The world’s strongest blind box…”
Chanting mainland-style slogans in Cantonese sounded rather comical, but as long as it caught the eye of passersby at first glance, half the battle was won.

The increased investment from Xu Kuangdao and his people attracted more guests, setting the stage perfectly for Zhang Tianfeng to reap the rewards. Near noon, the first batch of urgent goods was just delivered to the warehouse when Chen Wuyan suddenly received a report from his staff.

“Boss, something big is happening at the mall behind us. You should go take a look.”

Chen Wuyan’s heart skipped a beat; he tossed aside his phone and ran to the window at the back. From his vantage point, he could see the entrance to the mall, where Zhang Tianfeng’s personal poster dominated the entire entryway.

“Experience the latest blind box gameplay with the Patriotic Young Stock God and win a 400,000 yuan Crown sedan.”

“Participate for a chance to receive guidance from the Patriotic Young Stock God.”

A crowd had already gathered at the mall entrance, with lively discussions so intense that even several blocks away, Chen Yuanhua could catch fragments of their conversation.

Talks of the Young Stock God’s sudden appearance, speculations about a surging stock market, praises for him standing atop the gambling world and inventing such innovative games—every sort of discussion emerged, except any doubts about the winning odds.

“This kid’s really going all out—he’s even put up a 400,000 yuan car!”
Chen Yuanhua slammed his fist against the wall and growled in frustration.

The gap was immediately apparent.

He and Xu Kuangdao’s joint stall saw their crowd rapidly dwindling, while over at the mall, more and more people gathered, forcing even the Hong Kong police to come out and maintain order.

“Damn! Was the news I saw earlier really true?” Xu Kuangdao, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, stood dumbfounded nearby.

He remembered the first time he came to Tangwan Town to investigate Zhang Tianfeng, hearing stories about the Young Stock God. He’d assumed they were partly fabricated and hadn’t taken them seriously.

Now, it seemed he’d overlooked something fatal.

“You knew about this news—why didn’t you tell me beforehand?” Chen Yuanhua asked, barely containing his anger.

Xu Kuangdao’s temper flared as well. “Weren’t you also digging for information on Zhang Tianfeng? You claimed the Chen family’s intelligence network was more complete than mine—so how did you miss this?”

“All right, enough arguing. Let’s figure out how to keep the guests. We just invested several hundred thousand this morning—you don’t want that money to go to waste, do you?”

“No kidding!” Xu Kuangdao gritted his teeth. “First drop the prices, try to stabilize the guests. I’ll send some local punks to block the passage and make those guests take a detour!”

If this were the coastal region or in Deep City, Xu Kuangdao was confident Zhang Tianfeng wouldn’t dare show his face even once.

But in Hong Kong, all he could do was try his hardest to contain the situation.

Yet he grossly underestimated Zhang Tianfeng’s reputation among Hong Kong stock investors.

After the battle at Trading Hall 8.2, Zhang Tianfeng had single-handedly outperformed dozens of seasoned analysts and predicted that the Hong Kong stock index would continue to rise throughout August.

Now, with mid-August upon them, the index had indeed dipped occasionally, but always rebounded quickly. Compared to previous months, the Hong Kong stock index had risen by 30%. Investors who bought in at low points were making fortunes, while those trapped at high points followed Zhang Tianfeng’s every word. Some even secretly kept his portrait in their homes.

Hong Kong investors firmly believed Zhang Tianfeng was sent by the government to rescue the market.

Whenever he appeared, the index would surge.

As long as he was around, Hong Kong stocks would never fall into the abyss again!

The news spread rapidly, and frenzied investors flocked from all directions, using every possible means of transport.

In the underground passage leading to the mall, a group of punks with dyed hair and tattoos huddled together, discussing their plan. These were the thugs Xu Kuangdao had hired to block the way.

Their leader was a middle-aged man with a scar on his face—half bald, with a dragon tattoo on his scalp, long hair on the other side, known among the gang as “Half-Dragon.”

He’d served time, and upon release, resumed his life with the gangs, intimidating newbies with his seniority, and playing the role of a small boss on his street.

“Listen up! Your job is to mess around with your buddies, pretend to fight, and scare off the passersby.”

“Let me be clear—no real hits. If anyone gets hurt, I don’t have money for your medical bills.”

“Come on, Dragon, I saw some mainland guy giving you money just now.”

“You don’t know a thing. Doesn’t the gang need funds to keep going?” Half-Dragon glared at him and barked, “Follow orders, and after we’re done, I’ll take you all for a foot massage.”

That made the younger ones smile—nothing more fun than a foot massage.

The street was packed, almost impassable. Hearing the iron gate open, Half-Dragon flicked away his cigarette and said, “Showtime—let’s get to work!”

The boys split into two groups, grabbing various props to act out their scene.

Bang! The iron gate slammed against the wall, the crisp sound immediately drowned by the thunderous footsteps.

A wave of bodies surged into the passage, filling it in an instant.

Seeing the mass of dark figures ahead, Half-Dragon swallowed hard, nervous—why were there so many? Wasn’t it supposed to be just a few hundred?

Before he could speak, a fat, bald man stepped forward and shouted, “You punks—are you fighting or not? If not, make way. I need to get through.”

“You fat pig, I’ll fight if I want, and won’t if I don’t. What’s it to you?”

“Half-Dragon, is this how you teach your boys?”

Several sharp gazes landed on Half-Dragon; he realized there were several respected underworld bosses in the crowd—men he knew and admired.

What was going on? This crowd had drawn out even those old bosses who’d long since retired!

Wait—Half-Dragon remembered these big shots had all taken up stock trading, claiming it was more exciting than gang fights. Could it be…

Smack!

A palm the size of a fan landed on Half-Dragon’s head, knocking him to the ground.

“The youngsters these days really have no manners. Just wait till I finish seeing the Young Stock God—then I’ll deal with you!”

With that, the crowd surged forward. The punks who had been shouting moments before pressed themselves flat against the walls, not daring to move.

What could they do? Their boss had been floored with a single slap—they were in trouble!

Meanwhile, above ground, every roadblock Xu Kuangdao set up—car accidents, arguments, fallen trees—was overcome by the fervent investors.

He failed to keep even a single one of those crazed stock traders; every guest at his stall vanished.

Not a single one remained.