Chapter 8: Mobile Live Stream

The redemption process went even smoother than Qin Feng had anticipated.

Under the residual effect of the Lucky Halo and possible covert influence from the system, he encountered no harassment or scrutiny. The Sports Lottery Center staff, stunned, processed all procedures for him with maximum efficiency. After deducting a staggering 168 million yuan in incidental income tax, exactly 664 million yuan was deposited into his bank account.

Almost at the exact moment the tax was transferred, a resonant system alert sounded in his mind:

【Ding! Detected that the Host successfully spent 168,000,000 yuan (personal income tax), triggering the Targeted Spending Critical Hit Card (Advanced) effect!】

【Critical multiplier randomly generating… (Lucky Halo residual effect active…)】

【Congratulations, Host! Triggered 68x Critical Hit!】

【Refund amount calculation: 168,000,000 * 68 = 11,424,000,000 yuan! (Capped at 100,000,000 yuan)】

【Refunded funds of 100,000,000 yuan have been automatically deposited into the Host's bound bank card!】

One hundred million yuan!

Although capped at one hundred million due to the limit, failing to claim the terrifying eleven billion plus, this windfall still pushed Qin Feng's cash reserves to an entirely new height—over 770 million yuan!

Adding the Yunding Mansion and two supercars, his personal assets had now surpassed 800 million yuan!

In just a few days, from penniless to owning 800 million yuan in assets, the speed of this wealth explosion even struck Qin Feng as dreamlike. But he quickly calmed himself—this money would be the crucial capital to leverage a larger scheme.

Now, he held over 700 million yuan in cash, possessed lethal information about Tianhai Group, and… Zhao Kun's incriminating evidence was nearly complete.

It was time to net the catch.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Chen Yongming.

"Chen lawyer, how's the evidence collection going?"

"Mr. Qin, it's nearly complete. Bank transaction records of Zhao Kun's embezzlement, testimonies from the involved parties (already persuaded by us), and his offshore betting account details and betting logs are all clear. Additionally, we've discovered he's recently attempted to embezzle an even larger sum from another project account due to heavy losses." Chen Yongming's voice carried a hint of excitement—he clearly found the thrill of targeting a local giant intoxicating.

"Good." Qin Feng's tone was calm. "Prepare two sets of materials. One, anonymously send to Tianhai Group's supervisory board and major shareholders. The other, the more detailed version, hold it until I give the word."

"Understood!"

After hanging up, Qin Feng checked the time. Less than 24 hours remained until the Cultural Relics Bureau's announcement.

He needed a windfall—a force that could instantly amplify Tianhai Group's impending crisis and Zhao Kun's scandal to their absolute peak.

His gaze settled on the powerful new phone on his desk.

Live stream.

In this age of information overload, nothing could ignite public opinion faster than a live stream packed with drama and explosive revelations.

He logged into the most popular short-video live-streaming platform, casually registered an account, and named it—"Feng Qi."

No preview, no promotion—at 8 p. m. that evening, during prime time, Qin Feng went live.

The camera faced his study's massive floor-to-ceiling window, revealing the dazzling riverside view and city lights of Yunding Mansion—luxurious yet understated. He himself sat outside the frame, revealing only a silhouette and a pair of eyes that, in the dim light, appeared especially deep.

Initially, the livestream had only a handful of random visitors.

"Wow, this night view is insane! Where's the streamer?"

"Looks super rich—is this a flex?"

"Can you zoom in? Let's see if the streamer's hot!"

Qin Feng ignored these comments. In a voice processed by a voice modulator—deep and magnetic—he spoke slowly:

"Hello everyone, I'm 'Feng Qi.' Today's stream has no talent, no story—just a little… 'prophecy' game."

His voice carried a peculiar allure, and with this mysterious opening and setting, some viewers began to stay.

"Prophecy? Are you a charlatan?"

"What kind of prophecy? Stocks or lottery?"

"That voice… I'm hooked!"

"My first prophecy," Qin Feng said calmly, "concerns a well-known local company—Tianhai Group."

Tianhai Group was highly known in the city; the comments exploded instantly.

"Tianhai? The real estate one?"

"Their playboy son's pretty famous—a spoiled brat."

"What are you predicting about them? Stock surge?"

"I predict," Qin Feng paused, emphasizing his words, "that by tomorrow afternoon at the latest, Tianhai Group will receive a massive negative blow—a revelation capable of shaking the foundation of its core projects and possibly triggering a severe liquidity crisis."

His words triggered an immediate surge in comments.

"Real or fake? Do you have insider info?"

"You're spreading rumors—that's illegal, bro!"

"Tianhai Group's too powerful to collapse that easily!"

"Waiting for you to get roasted!"

Qin Feng offered no defense. He continued: "This is just the appetizer. My second prophecy concerns Tianhai Group's heir, Zhao Kun."

Mentioning Zhao Kun sparked even more activity—the playboy was notoriously well-known locally.

"Zhao Kun? The guy who drives supercars and chases girls?"

"What'd he do now? Run someone over?"

"Spill it, streamer! I've got my peanuts and chair ready!"

"I predict," Qin Feng's voice carried a chill, "that this Zhao heir doesn't merely live lavishly and squander recklessly—he's also suspected of repeatedly embezzling massive sums from his family's company for personal indulgence, and… participating in offshore illegal online sports betting, losing enormous amounts."

Boom!

The comments exploded!

"Holy shit! Embezzlement? Betting?"

"If true, he's done for!"

"Proof? This is just hearsay!"

"Are you declaring war on Tianhai Group?"

"Thrilling! Followed!"

The number of viewers in the live stream surged—from dozens to hundreds, then to thousands... Every element—the mysterious host, the luxurious backdrop, and the shocking accusations against local major corporations and second-generation heirs—was a viral highlight.

Qin Feng watched the rising popularity and rolling comments, knowing the timing was right.

"I know many will say I have no evidence," he said calmly. "Evidence? I certainly have it. But it's not the time to reveal it yet."

He shifted tone: "Whether this 'prediction' game comes true will be decided tomorrow. If my prediction comes true..." He paused deliberately, building suspense, "I will give away ten 'consolation prizes' in this live stream—each worth ten thousand yuan in cash."

"And," he added, "I will decide, based on circumstances, whether to release those... interesting pieces of evidence."

Ten prizes of ten thousand yuan each! That's one million yuan!

The comments went wild! Gifts, likes, and shares flooded the screen instantly! The number of viewers skyrocketed past fifty thousand, then one hundred thousand... and kept surging!

"Boss is generous!"

"Prophet! I believe you!"

"Waiting for tomorrow's drama + prize draw!"

"Followed! Host, don't you dare disappear!"

"Tianhai Group is panicking!"

Qin Feng watched the tidal wave of public opinion on the screen, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk curling on his lips.

The east wind has risen.

He didn't need to dump the evidence now—that wouldn't deliver enough impact. He would wait until Tianhai Group's negative news was officially confirmed, until its stock price began to plummet and market panic spread, then unveil the ironclad proof of Zhao Kun's embezzlement and sports betting!

At that moment, surrounded by internal and external crises, with public outrage boiling over, Tianhai Group would face its darkest hour. Banks would call in loans, partners would hesitate, shareholders would pressure... Even if Zhao Tianhai had heavenly powers, he could not turn the tide.

And Zhao Kun? He would transform from a coveted second-generation heir into the traitor who dragged down his family—hated by all.

The live stream lasted less than half an hour. After leaving behind immense suspense and anticipation, Qin Feng ended it cleanly and decisively.

But the storm online had only just begun.

"Mysterious billionaire's live stream delivers shocking prediction targeting Tianhai Group and its crown prince!"

"One million yuan prize as proof—Will Tianhai Group collapse tomorrow?"

"Zhao Kun suspected of embezzlement and sports betting? Evidence about to be exposed?"

Various sensational headlines rapidly dominated trending topics on local forums and social media groups. Though many doubted it was a stunt, the promise of one million yuan in prizes and the host's mysterious certainty left countless people half-skeptical yet intensely eager for tomorrow.

Tianhai Group's PR department clearly detected this sudden surge of public opinion and tried contacting the platform to delete posts and suppress the buzz. But strangely, the platform—which had always been cooperative—now stalled and dodged, as if some invisible force was obstructing them (minor system intervention?).

Zhao Kun's phone calls flooded Qin Feng's line (he hadn't changed his number), filled with furious curses and threats.

Qin Feng hung up and blocked him.

He stood before the floor-to-ceiling window in his study, watching the city outside, still brightly lit.

Tomorrow, a spectacular drama will unfold here.

And he would be the sole director.

The phone screen went dark, but a storm sweeping through reality had already taken shape online—waiting only for tomorrow, when thunder would strike!