The Food Delivery Stock God

If Heaven hadn't made me, Chen Daji, the stock market would have been shrouded in darkness for all eternity.

Idle retail traders cower, while Zhang and Meng's hot money gets barked into oblivion.

Quant algorithms are nothing but clay dolls, and institutional heavyweights crack like clay chickens.

One sword sweeps through five billion, the K-line my blade as I cleave sun and moon.

Who dares block me on my delivery scooter? At the end of every limit-up rally stands Brother Daji.