No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Inside the luxurious apartment’s training room.

With the thunderous boom of surging blood and qi, Zhang Yu and Le Mulan’s bodies were tangled together. Muscles collided with muscles, producing sharp slapping sounds.

“Put more strength here…”

“Keep pushing.”

Slap!

“Raise your leg a little higher.”

Under Zhang Yu’s guidance, Le Mulan continuously adjusted her posture and movements. With today’s private lesson, she felt her martial arts had advanced again.

After all, Zhang Yu had surged from early Qi Refinement to its peak in just over a year. He not only possessed tremendous strength but also retained mental memories of numerous techniques from Level 0 to Level 10.

Add in his practical teaching experience from the shadowy tutoring world, and Zhang Yu’s instructional skills had reached an elite level.

He was confident that even among all the high-school tutors in the First Floor, he would rank near the top. Over the past few months, Le Mulan had received Zhang Yu’s tutoring almost weekly, and the improvements were evident.

As their training came to a close, Le Mulan’s chest heaved with breath, and the sweat soaking her body revealed her toned figure.

“These past few months… thank you.”

She looked at Zhang Yu, knowing she was getting an incredible deal—having such a powerhouse personally guide her, meticulously correcting the motion of every muscle.

If the students at Purple Cloud High ever found out that Zhang Yu’s fingers had traced over so many of her muscles, they’d probably kill to switch places with her—just to experience close-contact training and a surge in grades.

Grateful once more, she said, “With your help, my progress has been amazing.”

“No need to be so formal,” Zhang Yu waved her off. “You helped us a lot before. Without your apartment and tutoring fees, Ah-Zhen and I would still be sleeping under a bridge.”

“But when it comes to bodily fluids, I’ve signed a contract with Oasis Group—I can’t provide those to anyone else.”

“Still, I can help tutor you.”

Zhang Yu silently thought, “I might not be able to change Kunxu, but I can at least help the people around me.”

After chatting a bit longer, Zhang Yu headed to the shower. Meanwhile, Le Mulan walked up to his phone, thinking, “Because of that contract, I’ll never be able to buy his fluids.”

“But Zhang Yu…”

Through all those close-contact sessions, her own observations, and some discreet consultations, Le Mulan had gradually confirmed one thing… Zhang Yu was very hard.

“So he hasn’t been sterilized.”

“According to my brother, students who haven’t been sterilized are especially susceptible to hormonal influence.”

“That can be used to subtly sway them. Maybe I can get some of his materials through future training sessions…”

With that thought in mind, Le Mulan crouched beside his phone and repeatedly whispered: “Black stockings! Beautiful legs! Gravure! Curves! Contrast! Long legs! Big thunder thighs!”

“Le Mulan! Le Mulan! Le Mulan!”

After repeating the keywords several times, she figured the algorithm would have picked them up. Zhang Yu’s phone was bound to be influenced.

That night, while scrolling on his phone, Zhang Yu suddenly frowned at the popup ad for thigh-high stockings.

“Damn algorithm garbage.”

The next morning.

Bai Zhenzhen glanced at the trash can stuffed with tissues and couldn’t help commenting, “Yuzi didn’t last very long this time.”

“Has life gotten too cozy? Is his willpower slipping?”

…

After school that day, Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen rushed to the Patrol Division’s headquarters.

For the first time in months, they finally had a chance to get in touch with Zhang Pianpian again.

Though their applications had been approved a few times before, Zhang Pianpian had apparently been too busy to answer.

On the way there, Zhang Yu noticed more homeless and beggars on the streets than ever—especially elderly amputees with white hair, far more than he'd seen all year.

He knew these were people who had mortgaged their flesh just to survive. And once they did that, they couldn’t get jobs anymore—spiraling into total ruin with no way out.

Watching it all, Zhang Yu sighed inwardly. But he knew there was nothing he could do.

“Maybe my thinking’s still too old-fashioned.”

“I still haven’t fully adapted to Kunxu… I have to keep trying.”

At the Patrol Division headquarters.

When Zhang Pianpian finally appeared on-screen, Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen quickly poured out everything that had happened over the past few months.

Though they were both getting richer and their lives were improving, the shifting state of Kunxu’s First Floor made them uneasy. They hoped Zhang Pianpian, now on the Second Floor, could share some insight.

After listening, Zhang Pianpian pondered for a moment before saying, “You can take President Wang’s money.”

“But aside from job pay and endorsement fees, don’t get involved in Oasis Group’s actual business. Don’t invest in it. Don’t try to operate it…”

Zhang Yu blinked, surprised, and asked why.

Zhang Pianpian carefully chose her words. “There’s conflict among the Ten Major Sects over First Floor matters.”

“Put simply…”

“Some of the higher-ups believe the First Floor is a lost cause—especially the impoverished masses, who are now seen as a ‘useless class.’”

“Instead of letting it rot, they’re thinking of repurposing it into a giant breeding farm—a raw material supply zone.”

“Even some Immortals… seem to support this view.”

Zhang Yu’s heart sank. A sense of suffocation gripped him.

The phrase “useless class” hit like a hammer, trying to shake him awake from the comfort he’d been enjoying.

Zhang Pianpian continued, “I’m handling a lot of things here.”

“If anything comes up that you really can’t handle, contact a Righteous God.”

“It’s the one you friended.”

She seemed genuinely busy. The call ended soon after.

Walking back, Zhang Yu looked again at the disabled beggars lining the street. He felt as though he could already see what the First Floor of Kunxu was destined to become.

“It has nothing to do with me.”

“This is the way of the world.”

“I’m just a high-schooler—what can I even do?”

The realization of his own powerlessness made him clench his fists in frustration. “Why the hell can’t I adapt?”

“Zhang Yu, you’re gonna be rich someday.”

“You want wealth. You want to protect your people. You want a better life—then you’d better adapt to this goddamn Kunxu world!”

“Otherwise, what? You haven’t even reached Foundation Establishment—you’re just an ant. What can you do?”

While Zhang Yu was stewing in thought, Fu Ji suddenly spoke up. “Repeat what Zhang Pianpian said to you.”

To avoid exposure, Fu Ji had hidden herself completely before they entered the building.

Once Zhang Yu came out and reactivated her, he recounted Zhang Pianpian’s words.

Fu Ji muttered, “Hmm… she was very careful. Likely someone was monitoring the call.”

Zhang Yu’s eyes widened. “Monitoring? Someone’s targeting us?”

Fu Ji replied, “Cross-floor calls are often monitored. But the way Zhang Pianpian spoke… maybe there was more she wanted to say.”

“She said ‘some’ people up top think the First Floor is done. Not all.”

“She told you to only accept payment—don’t get tied to Oasis Group’s operations.”

“Doesn’t that suggest…” Fu Ji mused, “some higher-ups think the First Floor is useless, but others disagree?”

“There are Immortals supporting Oasis Group. But maybe others oppose them?”

“She’s warning you because Oasis Group might be caught in a larger power struggle.”

Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up. “Oasis Group, Netherworld University, Netherworld Palace… they act like a demonic sect. Maybe there’s a righteous faction in Kunxu?”

“So there might be other righteous sects that can’t tolerate these demonic acts and might intervene?”

Fu Ji shrugged. “Righteous? Demonic? If another sect intervenes, it’ll be to curb Netherworld Palace’s growing power.”

“Same reason some regions banned mortal farming and set up resentment-emission standards—because their sects suck at those Immortal Dao technologies. So they impose restrictions on others.”

“If someone does try to stop Oasis Group, it’ll be to protect their own interests.”

Zhang Yu let out a bitter laugh. “Right. That’s Kunxu. I still haven’t adapted—still clinging to naive ideals.”

Bai Zhenzhen asked, “But so far, Oasis Group hasn’t been stopped. Their plans are going well, aren’t they?”

Fu Ji thought aloud, “Maybe… it’s just not time yet.”

“With Oasis Group sweeping away countless noble clans, gathering mountains of resources, spreading the Foundation Establishment exam… what if that’s exactly what the other faction wants, so they’re just going along for now?”

Zhang Yu didn’t know if Fu Ji was right. But he etched Zhang Pianpian’s words deep into his memory.

…

In a flash, August arrived. Only one month until Zhang Yu entered senior year.

The heat blanketed all of Songyang City.

Zhang Yu’s bank account had reached a whopping 44 million.

But the price of the Heavenly Spirit Root he’d been eyeing had also shot up with the First Floor’s inflation—now 58 million.

At his current income, it was still within reach. Just a few more months of saving and he could begin Foundation Establishment.

That night, his phone rang.

The caller was Zhao Tianxing. Zhang Yu had even saved his contact with a personal note: “Everyone laughs at you, but you’re the funniest one of all.”

Seeing it made him think of Zhao Tianxing’s clown theory, and he couldn’t help but smile.

He answered, “Old Zhao, what’s up?”

But it was a stranger’s voice: “Is this Zhang Yu?”

Zhang Yu frowned. It turned out to be Zhao Tianxing’s mother.

She called because Zhao Tianxing was in trouble.

“His father lost his job and somehow got lured into gambling. He secretly mortgaged Tianxing’s body to Oasis Group…”

“I finally scraped together the money to buy it back, but Oasis said it’s already been shipped out…”

“You know their higher-ups. Could you please help? We can pay—just help us get Tianxing’s body back…”

…

1111th floor of Oasis Group.

President Wang listened to Zhang Yu’s request and casually asked, “A friend of yours?”

“No big deal. I’ll have someone check.”

Zhang Yu had braced for complications, but Wang’s easy tone brought him some relief.

“In Kunxu, you need money and power to protect yourself—and your people…”

But moments later, Wang frowned and shook his head. “No good. It’s already been sold.”

Zhang Yu blinked. “Sold?”

Wang nodded and pointed skyward. “Some demon-kin client upstairs bought a big batch of flesh as food. Your friend’s body was part of it—already shipped to the Second Floor.”

Zhang Yu quickly asked, “Can we get it back?”

Wang looked startled. “You… what?”

“Can we contact the buyer? Ask for the body back—”

Before Zhang Yu finished, the air in the room turned frigid.

Wang’s calm and kindly aura vanished—replaced by the presence of a cold, terrifying beast staring him down.

“Zhang Yu. Business is business. You want me to ask a customer to return shipped goods? What the hell are you thinking?”

Facing that icy pressure, Zhang Yu pictured Zhao Tianxing and gritted his teeth. “I’ll pay…”

Wang said flatly, “You think this is just about money? What excuse do I give for breaking my word to a client?”

“I honor every deal. Goods go out—unless they’re defective, I never take them back.”

Under that crushing weight, Zhang Yu still said, “I’ll apologize in person. He’s my best friend. I can’t watch him be eaten…”

Wang said coldly, “So what? He gets eaten. Zhao Tianxing—his file’s nothing special. What value does he have? A friend like that—let them be eaten. You should stop making friends like that.”

Then he added, “Zhang Yu, let me teach you something.”

“In this world, eating well is how you grow strong.”

“The poor suffer all their lives—only tasting bitterness.”

“If you want to be above others like me, you have to learn to eat people.”

When Zhang Yu tried to speak again, Wang snapped, “Get out!”

“Know your place.”

“You’re using my money.”

“If you don’t harm company interests, I’ll humor you.”

“But if you get in the way—get lost. Don’t show your face again.”

Zhang Yu stared, shocked. He hadn’t expected this sudden fury.

Wang snorted. “Still standing there?”

“Scram!”

A flash of gold light—and countless divine hands grabbed Zhang Yu, hurling him out of the office. Thɪs chapter is updated by NoveIＦire.net

Outside, General Manager Chi He wasn’t surprised. Though Wang usually joked with subordinates and even handed out red envelopes, if they crossed a line—especially involving the company—his wrath was swift.

Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen had been favored too long. They’d never seen it before.

Chi He walked up, patting Zhang Yu’s shoulder. “When Wang’s mad, nothing helps. Just take it. Apologize after a few days. He still likes you—he won’t stay angry forever.”

But Zhang Yu suddenly asked, “So there’s really no hope for my friend?”

Chi He hesitated, then offered a helpless smile. “Let him become a soul cultivation student.”

Outside Oasis Tower, Zhang Yu stared at his buzzing phone—it was Zhao Tianxing’s mother again.

But he didn’t know what to say anymore.

“Sorry, Old Zhao.”

Zhang Yu clenched his fists. “I… don’t think I can save you.”

At the same time, his Golden Abundance Technique slowed. Its effects began to regress.

No matter how hard he visualized the numbers in his bank account, they no longer gave him the courage or confidence they once did.

And on the way home, his phone buzzed once more.

“Gold Core Cultivator Xinghuo Zhenren has entered within 1,000 meters of your location. In the past month, he has accidentally killed 14 people and paid all fines and compensation. Please act cautiously and avoid provoking him.”