Chapter 178: Forward this koi fish, and good luck will come!

Chapter 178 Repost This Koi Fish, and Good Luck Will Come Your Way!

Though the cost had been anticipated, it was far worse than expected.

"This kind of luck costs you your life."

By now, everyone understood this perfectly well.

"This stroke of luck doesn’t consume their lifespan but rather concentrates all their future fortune into this period, letting them come out unharmed no matter what they encounter."

"Once their luck runs out, any misfortune they face will cost them their lives. No matter how long they live, it won’t save them."

"Who would’ve thought that mindlessly reposting a koi fish pic could lead to such an outcome?!"

Koi fish pics?

Immediately, people recalled the countless koi fish images they’d seen online. Someone blurted out, "You mean those posts like 'Repost this koi fish, and good luck will come your way'?"

"Could it be that a koi fish image has turned into a yokai?"

"And it actually grants the wishes of netizens—only its power is limited, so it has to cut corners like this to achieve its goals?"

"Or worse, is it doing this on purpose to boost its cultivation?"

The more they thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

"Not just Mao Ziqi and others—even ordinary people, when they see such images online, instinctively hit ‘repost.’ Even for psychological comfort."

"After all, it’s a symbol of good fortune. No harm in reposting."

"And that’s how they fall into the trap?"

"A system designed to leech fortune deliberately uses koi fish memes to screen targets. This way, even if someone suspects something’s wrong, initial investigations would focus on the memes rather than the system itself, giving it ample time to slip away undetected."

"Once the koi fish memes are exposed, it can simply switch to another medium—like sharing ‘God of Wealth’ memes for prosperity, or ‘Wenchang Dijun’ memes for academic success and exam victories. The web’s flooded with those."

"It doesn’t even need to be divine imagery. Sometimes, a photo of a pair of lotus blooms on one stem, a thousand-year-old ginkgo tree shedding golden leaves, or even a breathtaking peony in full bloom—Tianlanxing netizens would repost them, wishing for wealth and prosperity."

"They’ll repost anything that looks lucky. Finding a new medium is all too easy."

"And if it’s worried about being discovered again, that’s no problem either. It could create accounts posing as fortune-tellers or feng shui masters, posting online fortune-telling threads, offering guidance, or even luck-changing services."

"That way, it can still farm luck."

"So that’s how the ‘good luck’ comes about. But aside from a few exceptions, do ordinary people really encounter so much misfortune?"

"How could they? If that were the case, society would be in chaos."

"Only in times of turmoil would life be so unbearable, with people constantly facing disasters, dogged by constant bad luck."

Yet, though Tianlanxing has external threats and frequent doomsday crises looming, its domestic situation remains stable. The country isn’t just thriving—it’s leveling up.

And that’s an understatement.

Just look at the game-changing transformations Tianlanxing has undergone in recent years—not for the worse, but for the better.

This is unprecedented in thousands of years. Tianlanxing has seized this opportunity, and now, it’s no exaggeration to call it a golden age.

In times of peace and prosperity, how could people in their normal lives possibly face such misfortunes?

Sure, an extremely unlucky few are understandable, but for so many to experience it—there’s gotta be something fishy going on.

"When it rains, it pours."

"A rope breaks where it’s thinnest; bad luck hunts down the unlucky."

"Sure, those sayings exist, but truly unfortunate people are still a rare few."

"Especially if the system hadn’t been in such a hurry, cramming all this bad luck into a month or six, but instead spread them out over a lifetime."

"It could’ve actually pulled it off."

"But if it did that, how could it get the biggest payoff?"

"The reason Mao Ziqi and others faced back-to-back misfortunes was entirely the system’s doing. It can manipulate people’s fortunes, hoarding all their good luck upfront—naturally, it can also control their bad luck, piling them into one big disaster."

"Most small strokes of bad luck don’t really wreck your life."

"Typical everyday annoyances might just mean a reading app crashing while enjoying a novel, so you can’t keep reading."

"Or halfway home from work, suddenly realizing the keys were left at the office, forcing you to backtrack."

"Stuff like this is frustrating but doesn’t really mess up your day."

"But if these hit all at once, they become a full-blown disaster."

"And full-blown disasters, of course, correspond to major problems."

"Take Mao Ziqi—for example, if the system hadn’t interfered, her mother might still have been diagnosed with an illness during a checkup. But it wouldn’t have been terminal right from the start, needing a med-pod to stand a chance."

"They would’ve caught it early, even at the first signs of illness."

"After all, every household now has a treatment device. Some diseases might be too much for it, but detecting whether you’re sick? No sweat."

"Many early-stage illnesses don’t even need a medical pod—the treatment device’s got it covered."

"Oh right!" Mao Ziqi smacked her forehead. "I totally forgot—" "My mom checks herself with the treatment device every few days—fix what’s wrong, keep her healthy otherwise."

"No way it’d get bad enough to be incurable."

"Don’t tell me the checkup showed nothing, only for the illness to spiral out of control by the next one. Three or four days apart—what sickness goes from zero to deadly that quick?"

"Even sudden illnesses give warnings; people just don’t notice or take them seriously."

"But with treatment devices around, that’s even less likely to happen."

Nobody’s more scared of dying than our folks, nor do they value health more.

Just among those Mao Ziqi knows, many share her mother’s habit. Even those who find checkups every few days excessive still schedule regular health screenings.

The severe and terminal cases lining up at hospitals? Mostly from before treatment devices became household staples. Or those who, after buying one, discovered a serious condition and rushed to the hospital for life-saving care.

Beyond these, barely any new cases pop up.

Medical resources on Tianlanxing were once stretched thin, but these past two years, there’s even been a surplus.

After the Spiritual Resurgence, many doctors and nurses switched to pill-making.

Medical schools are still operating today, not only to preserve tradition but also because people have discovered that those with medical training have a higher success rate when transitioning to alchemical cultivation and tend to have better intuition for pill refinement.

There was a genius doctor in his thirties who had already become renowned in the field. Before the advent of healing tech and med-pods, there was even a surgery that only he could perform—no other doctor could manage it.

This doctor wasn’t especially gifted in cultivation, but precisely because of his medical expertise and unique insights in this area, his progress matched his peers and even made him one of the top alchemists on Tianlanxing.

Rumor has it that he has already been recruited by the government for covert training.

With such an example, people remain very enthusiastic about studying medicine.

Mastery bordering on the Dao—in the face of this, innate talent sometimes isn’t all that important.

"And then there’s Mao Ziqi’s stagnant cultivation progress, where her rash push for a breakthrough almost ended in catastrophe. If the system hadn’t intervened, things probably wouldn’t have deteriorated to that extent."

"Even if she didn’t realize something was wrong herself, there are plenty of high-level cultivators in the building. Everyone lives in the same place, running into each other constantly—surely someone would have warned her?"

Mao Ziqi suddenly realized—yes, even if others hadn’t noticed, would Sheng Qingquan really have missed it?

And if Sheng Qingquan had reminded her, she would’ve treated it with utmost seriousness.

"Most importantly, I saw her in the elevator just yesterday. Her energy showed no signs of agitation—she seemed quite stable, clearly not anxious herself."

"I thought she was just unaware of her own agitation."

Mao Ziqi herself hadn’t been too worried about her stagnant cultivation.

After all, it hadn’t even been two weeks. Compared to others, her cultivation speed was already quite fast.

If she still hadn’t made progress after half a year, then it would be time to worry—but not now.

Besides, there were so many experts living upstairs. If things really got bad, she could swallow her embarrassment, bring some gifts, cash in some contribution credits, and ask for guidance. That would still be better than forcing a breakthrough blindly.

There was no way it should have escalated to the point of self-injury.

"Under normal circumstances, she should have been warned at the earliest red flags. After realizing the issue, she would have patiently honed her skills and eventually achieved a smooth breakthrough."

"It shouldn’t have nearly led to self-destruction."

"As for the incident where the clerk accidentally grabbed her pills—while the probability was low, it wasn’t impossible."

"After all, she really was a bit careless in this matter."

"But however much the pills looked like chocolate candies, their scent couldn’t possibly be the same."

"Given Mao Ziqi’s current level of skill in pill refining, there’s no way she could produce pills with fully masked medicinal scents."

"Whether the pills were a failed batch or a successful one, whether they had a strange fragrance or a foul odor, the scent would have been impossible to miss. There’s no way it could have been overlooked."

"The clerk should have realized something was wrong the moment they opened the stasis bag. They would have put the pills back instead of continuing to treat them as chocolate candies."

"Most importantly, pills contain spiritual essence."

"That’s obvious at a glance. There’s no way to miss it."

"If the customer had noticed but let greed take over, pretending not to know and drinking it anyway—would the clerk really be unaware of the coffee shop’s usual standards?"

"It’s not some luxury spirit-food eatery. How could an ordinary coffee shop sell a spiritual-essence-infused drink at such a low price?"

"If the clerk had drunk that coffee themselves instead of handing it to a customer, it would have been more plausible."

"But even so, that contaminated coffee still ended up in the customer's hands. If you say there’s no issue with that, no one in their right mind would believe it."

Exactly!

She hadn’t thought much about it before, too preoccupied with worry. But now, with a clear mind, the flaws were glaringly obvious. Mao Ziqi had a sudden realization.

Moreover, she considered herself quite vigilant. If she encountered a string of misfortunes, she would definitely suspect Doomsday and promptly seek help from the staff. There’s no way she’d stay silent.

Even if she didn’t speak up, there’s no reason the staff wouldn’t know.

The authorities had always kept a certain level of surveillance on them.

With such changes occurring, logically, the authorities should be the first to know and intervene to investigate.

The way it played out in the original story was likely a manifestation of her being cursed with misfortune.

"But because the misfortunes came in rapid succession, many things happened without warning, and the situation spiraled out of control."

"To the point where Mao Ziqi was hit by one disaster after another. But luck also concentrated. So every time she faced misfortune, she miraculously pulled through each time."

"In reality, only a portion of that luck was spent on Mao Ziqi. The bulk was hoarded by the system. Once the system drained all their luck, when misfortune struck again, they naturally couldn’t withstand it."

So that’s how it was!

Though she now understood what was going on, the immediate priority was still to track down this system.

A staff member opened their phone, and a koi fish image popped up on the screen.

"Repost this koi for instant good luck!"

No telling if the system’s already here.

If it’s already here, maybe he could offer to bait it. This is a great opportunity to score credit!

"There’s no mention of when the system appears."

Sheng Qingquan pored over the book intently.

"But the ending does describe the system’s fate. It was wiped out completely."

"Good riddance!" Mama Mao cursed bitterly, feeling somewhat relieved.

"However, this system’s actions were operated entirely online. Does it have some built-in restriction?"

"If that’s the case..."

Sheng Qingquan had an idea.

Smoking it out was effective, but also a huge gamble.

Even if the staff were itching for credit, considering their own safety, they wouldn’t take this step unless absolutely necessary.

After all, having worked alongside Sheng Qingquan for so long, they’d already racked up enough accolades. There was no need to go all out.

Unless there were no other options—then why not cash in?

Seeing Sheng Qingquan’s confidence, the staff relaxed a little and remembered: the internet was Sheng Qingquan’s domain.

He had once picked up hacking skills. Time to put those skills to work.

True to form, over the next few days, Sheng Qingquan and the authorities worked independently.

The staff closely monitored Mao Ziqi's situation. The moment she showed signs of trouble, they would protect her while immediately reporting it.

Meanwhile, Sheng Qingquan set up camp in the digital world.

He dove into the digital realm, where the scenery along the data highway constantly shifted. Sometimes, it changed thousands of times in a millisecond—blink-and-you'll-miss-it fast. If viewed with the naked eye, it would be impossible to keep up.

But now, Sheng Qingquan navigated it like second nature, without the slightest strain.

He caught every digital blip.

Ever since acquiring this skill, he had exposed tons of shady business.

The dark web crowd surely still existed in secret, but they had gone deep underground. As a result, their scale was forced to shrink, and their user base tanked significantly.

Ordinary people were no longer in danger of wandering in.

Things were quiet.

Occasionally, someone would fly off the handle, but Sheng Qingquan checked their past public posts. Clearly, that was just how they rolled—not influenced by anything.

Suddenly, Sheng Qingquan's gaze fixed on a painting on the left side of the corridor.

He had initially assumed that since the system resided online, it would be well-hidden, requiring meticulous effort to uncover its traces.

Then, he could follow the clues.

But to his surprise, the system’s tech chops—how should he put it—weren’t lacking. On the contrary, they were exceptionally good.

If a real hacking expert were here, they’d probably smoke their keyboard without finding anything.

But Sheng Qingquan was different. His hacking skills defied normal logic.

To him, the system’s anomaly stuck out like a sore thumb—so out of place that it was impossible to miss.

Sheng Qingquan reached out and touched the painting. His figure vanished, only to reappear moments later in a new corridor.

He walked forward.

Soon, he spotted a safehouse up ahead.

Sheng Qingquan kicked the door open: "Hello, here to bring the heat!"

The system had just settled in and hadn’t yet done its recon. It didn’t understand the hidden meaning behind those words.

But the contrast between the polite greeting and the violent act of kicking down the door—could this intruder be friendly?

The system immediately tried to flee into the network, but Sheng Qingquan grabbed it and scrubbed it from existence, leaving not even a trace of data behind.

Yet, no digital loot popped up.

Unfazed, Sheng Qingquan nuked the system’s home base and erased all data completely.

Not just the residence—even the backups hidden in corners got wiped off the map.

This time, the digital loot appeared.

"I thought there’d be more backups." Boom. Now, Sheng Qingquan was actually caught off guard.

He had mentally prepared himself to search the entire internet.

Though given how conspicuous the other party was, other online backups would have been easy to find anyway.

Unexpectedly, it was resolved so easily.

Seems like they hadn’t had time to make multiple backups. Good thing he acted quickly.

With the matter settled, Sheng Qingquan returned to the corridor and eventually emerged from his own home computer.

Along with him came the collectible gift.

“The ability to control luck?”

Though he had long considered the possibility of gaining this ability, Sheng Qingquan hadn’t gotten his hopes up, as his imperial jade seal already had the effect of regulating luck.

But upon actually obtaining this ability, he realized that while both involved controlling luck, there was a difference.

The jade seal only worked on Azure Starians. This ability, however, could be used even on non-Azure Starians—it had much wider applications.

“For example, manipulating an enemy’s luck to make all their bad luck hit at once.”

“In such a case, even if I don’t lift another finger, the other party would probably die.”

“Like killing without leaving a trace.”

“And if paired with a skill that lowers intelligence…”

Before Sheng Qingquan could finish, the staff members gasped.

“That’s cold!”

Not a criticism, but praise.

One staff member even said enviously, “I wish I could be that ruthless. No matter how much I plan ahead, when it comes to the critical moment against an enemy, I blank out.”

“If I had reactions that quick, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt in that last mission.”

At least I could’ve gotten away unharmed.

“When people face calamity, if they keep their head, that’s fine—they can at least try to save themselves, with a fighting chance.”

“Even if the odds of success are slim, sometimes it’s just that coincidental, and they manage to survive.”

“But if they panic at that moment? Then it’s over. Even if there was a chance to survive in that desperate situation, the opportunity is fleeting. If they don’t seize it then, trying to grasp it later becomes next to impossible.”

“And if they merely miss the chance, that’s still not the worst outcome.”

“What’s truly terrifying is when some smart guy has a sudden stroke of inspiration, convinced they’ve taken the best possible action to save themselves.”

“Only to come to their senses and realize—oh no, things have gotten even worse.”

“What was once a one-in-a-hundred chance to live has now become no chance at all.”

“As the saying goes, no matter how hard a villain schemes, it can't compete with a fool's bright idea.”

“Unfortunately, this skill is most effective when the difference in power isn’t too large. If the disparity is too great, it’s impossible to bring all someone's bad luck together into one moment.”

“It just can’t work as well.”

"But even if it's just ten years, or even one year's worth of misfortune concentrated into a single moment, it can still sway the battle at a critical juncture. Coupled with my own actions, the end result remains the same—victory is still assured."

So Sheng Qingquan wasn’t disappointed.

"Especially since, apart from misfortune, I can also harness good luck."

"Inflicting misfortune on an enemy is a blatant targeting. If I want to be more subtle and avoid drawing suspicion, wielding good luck right can also be deadly."

"It’s the ideal assassination tactic."

"Draining someone’s lifetime of luck into a short burst makes them incredibly fortunate for a while—like they’re blessed. But once it wears off, their luck runs out, and without that protection, even the smallest incident..."

"A small accident could wreck them, or even kill them outright."

"Even if they don’t die immediately, over time, a series of such small misfortunes piling up..."

Sheng Qingquan doubted anyone would live through it.

"I spoke too soon!" someone reflected seriously. "Now *that’s* cold-blooded!"

"Even though this is exactly the method that system used against the Azure Starians, I totally missed it until Sheng Qingquan pointed it out."

"Am I hopeless, or should I go buy a copy of *The Art of Ruthlessness* to study?" The staff member dramatically wailed, leaning on a colleague, who shoved them off with a grimace.

"Good fortune can also be used on yourself."

Wait—how would that work?

Everyone recoiled. Being ruthless to enemies was one thing—going soft on enemies screws you over.

In a fight, no holds barred. But was it really necessary to be this harsh on *yourself*?

"Just exercise moderation."

"If the enemy is overwhelmingly strong and no tactic can secure victory, then cashing in some luck might not win the fight, but at least escape would be possible."

"As long as you don’t drain all your future luck at once, avoid overdrawing too severely, the consequences are manageable. At worst, you’ll just have a rough patch—lay low and ride it out."

If that’s the case, then it’s feasible.

After all, without doing this, you’d be dead meat.

Dead men don’t get futures.

Compared to total annihilation, a rough patch isn't an unacceptable price.

"This is just like the Felix Felicis potion in *Harry Potter*!" Someone had always felt the concept of manipulating good fortune was familiar, and now it all made sense.