No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Before Wang Yin even finished speaking, his semi-automated Chantless Spellcasting activated. Beams of divine light and auspicious energy descended from the sky, pouring into his body.

But in the very next instant, the Divine Power Network trembled violently. Wang Yin felt his connection to it snap, and the semi-automated Talisman Book he had been using immediately ceased functioning.

The eight-layered divine radiance hovering behind his head flickered like a faulty neon light, then slowly faded away.

The massive dragon formed of violent wind, coiled beneath his feet, twisted briefly before dispersing into scattered gusts, sending sand and dust flying across heaven and earth.

Without the support of the wind dragon, Wang Yin—who had been floating in the sky—plummeted like a falling star.

The wind whipped at his face, the ground rushed up in his vision, yet there wasn't a trace of panic on Wang Yin's face. He simply crossed his arms, letting himself fall faster and faster.

At the same time, he thought to himself, “The opposing Righteous Gods must have temporarily locked down our Divine Power Network.”

But Wang Yin knew such interference wouldn’t last long. His side’s Righteous Gods were surely working to restore the connection, and it wouldn’t be long before his semi-automated Talisman Book started working again.

Besides...

“Even without sigils, without divine support—so what?” Seeing Zhang Yu rocketing toward him, Wang Yin sneered. “You think just because I’m cut off from the network, you can fight me?”

With a thunderous boom, Zhang Yu leapt into the air, his Formless Cloud Qi surging wildly around him. The roar of dragon and elephant echoed as he struck with his palm.

The sheer force of the blow seemed to suck the air from the surroundings. Fierce gales burst outward, sweeping up dust and debris.

Wang Yin made no effort to dodge. In midair, he drew his fist seal, bent his elbow, and with a resounding crash, punched straight at Zhang Yu’s incoming palm.

Logically, Wang Yin had no footing mid-fall while Zhang Yu had launched himself from the ground with full momentum, clearly holding the advantage.

Yet at the moment of impact, the clash released explosive waves of pressure. Zhang Yu felt every bone in his body creak as if crushed repeatedly by shockwaves.

His body paused in midair for a split second, then crashed back to the ground, leaving a crater.

But Zhang Yu wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t expected to defeat his opponent in one strike. That blow was just a test, taking advantage of Wang Yin’s unstable stance.

As he landed, Zhang Yu quickly assessed the data: “His physical strength surpasses mine, but his mana output isn’t significantly higher.”

On the other side, Wang Yin also landed steadily. Arms still crossed, he looked calmly at Zhang Yu and said, “You’ve improved your mana, but your body hasn’t kept up. I’m guessing your Foundation Establishment was based on a Qi Sea-type Spirit Root?”

“And now you’re thinking, since I discarded my cultivation, my remaining mana isn’t far above yours, and it’s only my physique that’s tougher? So you think we’re evenly matched?”

Zhang Yu snorted coldly. “You talk too much.”

At the same time, his Qi Sea Spirit Root surged into full operation. Spiritual energy from within a hundred meters rushed toward him, replenishing his mana at an astonishing rate.

With another deafening boom, his Formless Cloud Qi exploded outward again. The crater under his feet deepened and cracked from the shock.

White waves of qi surged from Zhang Yu’s body, flooding the battlefield.

Wang Yin let the thick fog wash over him and continued, “I gave you a chance to trade blows just to assess your market value. Whether you’re better sold chilled or frozen.”

“As for the real fight…”

From within the fog, Zhang Yu suddenly appeared, his palm surging with dragon-elephant force as he struck fiercely at Wang Yin’s back.

But Wang Yin didn’t budge. Instead, blood-colored phantoms rose around him.

Each phantom had a twisted, screaming face, howling and wailing as they blocked Zhang Yu’s palm.

With every inch Zhang Yu’s palm advanced, a dozen phantoms shattered, their exploding bloodlight condensing into layers of resistance—like thousands of layers of flesh pressed against him.

The farther his palm pushed, the more resistance he felt.

After advancing just five inches, all the momentum behind his strike was exhausted.

From behind the veil of bloodlight came Wang Yin’s voice: “You’re not even worthy of touching me.”

Zhang Yu said nothing. Another palm burst forth, filled with blasting force, but it too was stopped by the bloodlight.

Wang Yin spoke slowly. “This artifact is the Netherblood Phantom Veil. It refines living souls into phantoms to shield me.”

“Each phantom can block a peak Qi Refinement attack.”

“I purchased tens of thousands of mortal souls from the First Floor and refined them into this artifact. How long do you think you’ll need to break through?”

“You bastard…” Zhang Yu’s eyes narrowed. “This guy…”

“Is advertising?”

To Zhang Yu, narrating your artifact’s functions mid-fight—so clearly—meant only one thing: an ad.

He thought, “Is he trying to market this Netherblood Phantom Veil to First Floor buyers?”

But Wang Yin ignored him and spoke into the hidden camera on his body: “Tens of thousands of souls on the Second Floor are expensive—takes years of work to afford.”

“But on the First Floor, you can get the same number for a tenth the price.”

“And that’s not even the lowest cost. Next time, I’ll show you where on the First Floor the souls are even cheaper…”

Hearing this, Zhang Yu instantly realized—

Wang Yin wasn’t advertising an artifact—he was shooting a buying-power video, showcasing just how cheap First Floor souls and flesh were to those above.

At that thought, a deep, unnamable fury surged in Zhang Yu’s heart. The white Sacrificial Ox in his mind let out a primal roar. His Sacrificial Oxheart Technique roared to life, making his muscles and mana twitch and churn violently.

Meanwhile, Wang Yin said coldly, “Enough. This fight is over.”

The next instant, a terrifying pressure burst from his body.

“No… not pressure,” Zhang Yu’s face shifted as he sensed the subtle change. “That’s… Martial Intent?”

Having studied the Celestial Martial Heart-Forging Technique, Zhang Yu understood: Martial Intent—like Sword Intent or Blade Intent—is a martial projection of will. Cultivated through martial techniques, each form of intent grants unique powers.

His Celestial Martial Heart-Forging Technique allowed him to enter Full Focus Mode, greatly enhancing his reflexes.

But under Wang Yin’s Martial Intent, the entire battlefield’s spiritual energy became chaotic.

Especially as Wang Yin slowly formed a fist seal, as if crushing the spiritual energy within hundreds of meters into his palm.

Zhang Yu felt the surrounding spiritual energy thin dramatically, making even his Qi Sea Spirit Root struggle to absorb it.

“Martial Intent can do that?”

Zhang Yu had never seen such a domineering form of intent—one that directly disrupted the flow of spiritual energy.

What he didn’t know was that Wang Yin’s martial path consisted of two techniques: the Peerless Overlord Fist and the Imperial Heart Sutra.

These martial arts originated from an ancient emperor who forged a path of absolute domination—ruling with imperial will and tyrannical fists.

Of course, in the modern world, there were no emperors. And without an imperial heart, the techniques had long fallen into obscurity.

Until decades ago, one of the emperor’s descendants revised them—amassing vast wealth to bend cities to his will and forge an ultimate Martial Intent.

What Wang Yin now used was one move from that arsenal: Sky-Devouring Stance.

With it, his Martial Intent enveloped a radius of hundreds of meters, not just suppressing enemies but monopolizing 70% of the spiritual energy, crippling his opponent’s mana regeneration.

Though Wang Yin hadn’t mastered the full 99% energy monopoly, even 70% was enough to make Zhang Yu feel the energy go sparse and his recovery stall.

After unleashing Sky-Devouring Stance, Wang Yin drew his fist seal and punched through the air at Zhang Yu.

Peerless Overlord Fist—Spirit Surge Stance!

With his Martial Intent surging, the seized spiritual energy twisted and surged toward his attack.

As it concentrated and expanded, a thunderous blast followed.

Suddenly, Zhang Yu felt like an air bomb had exploded in front of him, his head ringing from the pressure.

As Wang Yin’s second punch followed, Zhang Yu twisted his body, surged his Formless Cloud Qi, and leapt several meters away.

Boom!

The spot he’d just occupied exploded, forming another deep crater.

Then came more thunderous detonations.

Each of Wang Yin’s punches landed like cannon fire, releasing shockwaves at every point his Martial Intent locked onto.

With punch after punch, the fog churned like a rampaging beast, scattering Zhang Yu’s white Formless Cloud Qi.

Part of it was due to Wang Yin’s terrifying Spirit Surge Stance smashing through the qi.

But the other part was Zhang Yu himself pulling back the large-scale Formless Cloud Qi and instead focusing it into concentrated defense.

Boom!

As another shockwave came flying, Zhang Yu raised both arms. Formless Cloud Qi surged. With layers of protective Techniques flowing inside him, he braced himself and took the hit head-on.

“I told you.” Wang Yin kept punching, each blow triggering another explosion that blasted Zhang Yu back again and again.

“You’re not even worthy to come near me.”