"Sorry, I'm not involved in that kind of work," replied Ryan.
"Oh, I figured as much. Your userna doesn't look like it's from a guild or a company,"
The Emperor responded bluntly. "That's a new strear, right? She seems pretty good. You've got your eyes on her, haven't you?"
Ryan admitted it straightforwardly. "Actually, she's my girlfriend. She wanted to have a bit of fun, so I decided to support her."
"I thought so. No one's money just falls from the sky. Normally, who would randomly spend that much on gifts?" The Emperor replied candidly.
"Spending 300,000 on a small-ti female strear just for fun isn't normal. Usually, a few tens of thousands or maybe a hundred thousand would be enough to make you lose interest."
"But since she's your girlfriend, I won't go any further."
Appreciating how frank and straightforward the Emperor was, Ryan replied, "I was just ssing around—don't take it too seriously."
"ssing around and throwing away 300,000? I've t plenty of big spenders, but none as generous as you."
"Brother Poor Guy, take in! Don't set the bar too high on the gender requirents!" the Emperor joked.
After so casual conversation, the Emperor said, "Poor Guy, I noticed from your profile that you're from Brisbane too. Why not join our group?"
"What group?" Ryan asked curiously.
"A max-level big shots group," the Emperor explained. "It's mostly for young people from Brisbane, though we do have mbers from other places who share similar interests. We've got people from all over the country."
"The requirent to join is that your TikTok account must be at least level 50. We don't accept older folks either!"
[Author: There is really a gifter level system in tiktok]
"The group is full of people who are a bit childish, kind of nerdy, but overall pretty decent."
"To be honest, we're not fans of those agencies or guilds that manipulate the gifting system, so everyone in the group uses personal accounts."
Ryan joked, "Emperor bro, aren't you worried I might scam you?"
"Not a chance," the Emperor replied confidently.
"There are a few guild owners with private accounts in our group. It's pretty easy to verify things. Those big accounts are just tools for them to lure small strears into signing contracts."
"The group is mostly about chatting and having fun," the Emperor added.
"Of course, if there's an opportunity for business collaboration and making money together, that's even better."
Ryan hesitated for a mont and said, "I checked, my account is only level 49."
The Emperor replied confidently, "That doesn't matter. On the first day of registering your account, you gifted so many items. Everyone in the group knows it's only a matter of ti before you hit the max level."
"Be decisive. Just say yes!!"
Ryan readily agreed and was promptly added to a chat group with over a hundred mbers.
The Emperor introduced, "Brothers, inspection complete. Let's give a warm welco to our new brother, Poor Guy."
Imdiately, the group erupted with enthusiasm. Strangely enough, all their cartoon avatars started spamming amusing and quirky emojis.
"Poor Guy is here! He is mighty! Please sponsor !"
"Poor Guy has arrived! A fresh and tender newcor awaits your care..."
"Welco, Brother. Ignore those idiots above; they're just being silly."
"Poor Guy, newcors have to send gifts!"
"Hello, everyone. I'm Poor Guy. Please forgive if I make any mistakes."
Seeing how enthusiastic everyone was, Ryan, who had long been weighed down by life, found his more open and lighthearted side erging.
"Wow, you're way too formal. How old are you?"
"Yeah, don't act like so old fogey. I don't want soone in the group who reminds of my dad."
As soon as that person spoke, the Emperor imdiately transferred him an amount that made everyone do a double take—1 Dollar.
At first, Ryan thought he must have read it wrong. In a group of top-tier spenders, gifting just 1 Dollar seed absurd.
But before he could react, the recipient claid it imdiately and dramatically responded:
"Thank you, Emperor, for the massive 1 Dollar. Emperor, please lie down and let lick your shoes..."
"Emperor, turn around... I'll lick... I'll peck..."
"Emperor, I'm ready finish in my mouth..."
Damn, are these rich people always this casual? As a top-tier broke man, Ryan was genuinely shocked by how ridiculous and silly the atmosphere was.
While Ryan was still dumbfounded, the Emperor spoke up in the group:
"Poor Guy, about half of the group mbers are from Brisbane, but we also have brothers from all over the country."
"There are only three rules for this group:
1. No advertising unless it's for your own business.
2. Business discussions are fine, but no borrowing money. If you lend money and get scamd, that's on you.
3. Feel free to chat, but no attacking family mbers or insulting others!"
These three rules sounded like a moral code of conduct. As soone from the bottom rung of society, Ryan actually felt a rare sense of warmth from them.
"Wait a second! After all this talk, why hasn't Poor Guy sent out gifts for the new arrival?"
"Hold on, isn't this a max-level boss group? I checked Poor Guy's account—it's only level 49!"
"Tsk, who's the idiot that changed the group na? Reaching max level requires at least 2 million spare cash. Who has that kind of money just lying around?"
"It used to be minimum level 45, but because of all the riffraff joining, they raised the bar. Now level 50 is good enough."
"But Poor Guy isn't level 50 yet!"
"You sure talk a lot of crap. Poor Guy will hit level 50 in no ti, and max level? That's just a matter of ti."
This wasn't exactly flattery, given the group's na, though only about ten people in it were truly at max level.
So were secondary accounts owned by guild and agency bosses. Among the rest, only two or three, including the Emperor, were genuinely maxed out. That's why he held such influence in the group.
Ding! A notification popped up.
The group na was instantly changed by the Emperor from "Max-Level Boss Group" to "Morons and Dimwits Gathering Spot."
It was proof that, as the saying goes, n don't need their own psychological studies—n's psychology is essentially child psychology. The new group na was as juvenile as it gets.
"Holy crap, I love this na! I'm a doctor, and I'll be responsible for curing all of you!"
"Get lost, you bastard. I'm broke and down on my luck. If I had money, I'd definitely send you to the best psychiatric hospital."
"Ah, paying respects and showing filial piety, huh?"
"Screw you! Trying to take advantage of ? When you die, I'll scatter your ashes in the n's restroom."
"Wow, bro, that's low. Old bastard dream is to have his ashes scattered in the ladies' restroom..."
"I can make his dream co true. Isn't his wish to scatter his ashes in a university ladies' restroom? The senior university here actually has a nice environnt."
"Look at this—club owners are just shaless. They claim their employees are all college students, but the stretch marks tell the truth. Ask them which school they're from, and they say, 'driving school.'"
"I think we should send Old bastard to the hospital. Being ugly is a kind of illness, isn't it? Otherwise, why would they have costic surgery hospitals?"
The group chat was buzzing with activity, the comnts outrageous enough to put college group chats to sha. It was hard to believe these were wealthy individuals.
"Alright, back to the main topic."
"Main topic, my foot! What are you, prepping for the exam's again?"
"Exactly! Main topic, huh? Are we talking Marxist-Leninist ideology or IELTS and TOEFL?"
A gift appeared in the chat and was instantly snatched up. The speed was ridiculous, as if they were sitting atop a cell tower.
Ryan clicked in to see that it was only 10 dollars split among five people. Damn it—an amount so miserly it was borderline insulting!
"Long live the Ancestor! Ancestor, lie down, and I'll lick your boots properly!"
"Exactly! Even if you were to pass away, I'd still be honored to desecrate your corpse!"
Ryan finally realized the speaker's nickna was "Rebel Emperor," clearly a cheeky play on the title. This must be soone familiar to the group in real life.
Rebel Emperor: "Scram! Let's talk business. The group rules were already set: newcors must be at least Level 50. What do you all think about this Emperor punk breaking the rules?"
"Rebel Emperor, sir, I've been sick of this Emperor punk for a long ti. I suggest we skin him alive and execute him."
"Rebel Emperor, that's too cruel! I humbly suggest we just pull his pants down and flick his little bird for an hour."
The Emperor, annoyed but resigned, finally spoke up: "Poor Guy's strength—he'll hit Level 50 in no ti. It's just one level. You guys just love nitpicking. How long has it been since we had a new mber?"
Imdiately, the Emperor sent out a gifts. Ryan still didn't manage to grab one, but when he checked the amount, he couldn't help but laugh—it was still just 10 dollars.
The luckiest person this ti was the "Rebel Emperor," who imdiately changed his na to "Crown Prince."
"Father, thank you for your generous 3.39 dollars. Your son will buy noodles tomorrow morning and make sure to add an egg."
"If Father doesn't mind so taboo, your son can wash his backside right now."
The Emperor snorted and retorted, "That hole of yours is already in shambles. I'm not the least bit interested."
The world of the wealthy turned out to be so childish yet entertaining. Ryan couldn't hold back and burst into laughter.
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