No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Zhang Yu swept his gaze over the rows of factory buildings, a sense of awe rising in his chest.

Thanks to the formidable strength and specialized skills of the Civil Engineering Department’s Foundation Establishment cultivators, the transformation was nothing short of miraculous. In just over two months, roads had been repaired, underground transport tunnels cleared, buildings erected one after another, and a multitude of Factory Protection Arrays and feng shui formations laid both inside and out.

Most of the project was already completed. With just a month left until departure, it also marked the end of the semester.

Compared to the ruins from two months ago, the current Factory Zone looked like a miniature city. Lights blazed late into the night, and the sounds of overtime echoed from every direction.

Suddenly, Zhang Yu came to a halt. A section ahead had been cordoned off.

He muttered inwardly, “Must be the Artifact Refinement Department.”

The newly built section was designated for manufacturing Law Husks, and setting up the Law Husk production line fell under their domain.

The specifics of the line—especially key facilities—were strictly handled by Artifact Refinement cultivators. Students from the Civil Engineering Department were rarely allowed to even touch them.

The core technologies involved were highly confidential. Only personnel from the Artifact Refinement Department were permitted entry.

Zhang Yu detoured around the sealed zone. As he walked, a foul stench began to permeate the air, making him frown slightly.

Ever since the Artifact Refinement Department had begun setting up the production line, odd smells would sometimes waft through the area.

According to the upperclassmen, the odors came from pollutants discharged during the operation of the Law Husk production line.

Law Husks, artifacts, pills, flying swords, puppets... every kind of factory process produced its own industrial waste—wastewater, exhaust fumes, and the like.

These byproducts were eventually categorized into 72 types, collectively known as the Seventy-Two Earthly Calamities.

When the Seventy-Two Earthly Calamities were first discovered, traces of spiritual essence and Immortal Dao power within them led to their repurposing for cultivation.

Some companies even partnered with universities to develop Techniques that absorbed the Calamities. Marketed with slogans like "Strengthen the body," "Prolong life," and "Accelerate physique refinement," they sold vast amounts of Calamities and related Techniques to cultivators.

Zhang Yu recalled the stories the upperclassmen had told him.

"But later... more and more cultivators who practiced those Techniques developed strange illnesses, even dropping dead. Then scandals erupted—labs had covered up reports on the side effects."

“The company’s leadership held a mass bow-and-apology press conference. The lawsuit’s been dragging on for nearly eighty years—and still no verdict.”

Zhang Yu mused, “Considering the lifespan of those corporate executives, they could keep the case running for another few centuries easy.”

Fu Ji giggled. “Classic Kunxu Corp playbook. First, deny everything. Then apologize and say an investigation is needed. By the time the whole process wraps up and they’re ready to ‘compensate,’ oh no—the plaintiffs have all died of old age. A few years later, they claim it never happened…”

Zhang Yu said, “You sound like an expert.”

Fu Ji replied, “It’s not like I haven’t recruited corporate employees as believers before. I’ve seen this routine so many times. Trying to make a company pay up? You’d have better luck blowing up their headquarters.”

As they talked, Zhang Yu made his way to a grove on the edge of the Factory Zone.

With his blood and qi surging and his mana circulating, he began a session of body refinement.

With every punch and kick, martial force billowed, muscle and sinew bulged, mana and flesh fused together into a single explosive flow. Every move burst with the combined power of spirit and physique.

As his physical strength grew during the Foundation Establishment stage, Zhang Yu’s mana and body had become more and more integrated, indistinguishable from each other when he moved.

An hour passed. With a final expansion and contraction of his muscles, Zhang Yu stood steaming, white mist rising from his entire body—and a faint smile on his lips.

The tenth and final Technique of the Earth-Wood Saint Body had reached Level 20.

Ultimate – Earth-Wood Saint Body (10/10): The graver the injury, the closer to death, the stronger the effects of the Basic and Advanced stages. Work every day like it’s your last.

Zhang Yu’s gaze sharpened as he read the final effect. He summarized mentally, “So... the more I’m on the brink of death, the stronger the first two levels become.”

And what were those first two levels?

His eyes drifted to the Chain Diagram.

Basic: Drastically enhanced resistance to shock, dust, poison, noise, pressure, cancer, radiation, pollution, high heat, low temperatures, blunt force, slashing, piercing, and hunger.

Advanced: Greatly reduced lifespan consumption when operating Techniques, eating, or taking medicine during the Foundation Establishment stage.

Zhang Yu thought, “So the more injured I am, the tougher I become, and the less my lifespan drains. Which means... the closer I am to dying, the harder I am to kill.”

“Faster death equals slower death?”

He pondered the implications, especially how this could be leveraged to his advantage.

With practiced control, he deactivated the hyperactive body state induced by the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique.

Then he marched straight back to the site and resumed work.

But this time, as Zhang Yu used Techniques like the War Demon Life-Draining Technique and Limitless Cloud Hands, he made no effort to heal himself.

Not just during work—he even suppressed his body’s natural regeneration when eating or taking pills.

Visibly, his condition declined. He grew more fatigued by the day. His muscles, blood, and stamina deteriorated, and strands of gray began appearing at his temples.

But in contrast, he felt the resistances granted by the Earth-Wood Saint Body growing ever stronger. Environmental stresses no longer fazed him. Lifespan losses from using Techniques or consuming medicine shrank to almost nothing.

One day, he downed a massive handful of Lifespan-Debt Insight Powder, stirred together with Bloodburst Berserker Pills, and swallowed it all in one gulp.

Thanks to this regimen of binge-dosing, combined with the Earth-Wood Saint Body’s resilience, Zhang Yu had developed an acute sense of how medicine impacted his lifespan.

He could feel the forced surge of blood and mana within him, accelerating his breathing and body refinement.

And he could sense something being consumed—deep in his flesh. A thinning thread representing his lifespan.

Days passed.

Zhang Yu’s complexion turned black at the temples. His insides were ravaged by pills and Techniques, a body riddled with holes.

But in this shattered state, he discovered that lifespan-draining drugs now barely dented his vitality.

Even Techniques like the War Demon Life-Draining Technique and Limitless Cloud Hands could hardly hurt him anymore.

With each passing day, a balance formed in his body—a paradoxical harmony between destruction and resistance, forged by the Earth-Wood Saint Body.

Sensing this, Zhang Yu upped his dosage. He had to seize this rare period of free, all-you-can-eat access to push himself as far as possible.

Previously, relying on the University Saint Body and hyper-metabolism, he could already tolerate quite a bit of lifespan damage.

Now, with the Earth-Wood Saint Body in play, he could gobble down lethal pills by the handful—for almost no cost.

But to outsiders, Zhang Yu’s condition looked terrifying.

Fu Ji begged, “Stop it, Zhang Yu! If you keep this up, you’re gonna drop out of university—get demoted to community college and end up soul-cultivating with Zhao Tianxing in Fengdu Tech!”

Watching him shovel pills like a madman, Fu Ji grew frantic. “What the hell did these pharma companies put in that batch? What kind of addictive crap did they engineer this time?!”

…

In their room.

Che Yufei stared at Zhang Yu’s pale face and finally asked, “How much are you getting paid per day?”

Zhang Yu replied offhandedly, “Around 0.13 spirit coins, give or take?”

Che Yufei frowned. “Seriously? Just 0.13 a day? Is this really worth it?”

He checked on Zhang Yu every evening now, half-expecting the next glance to reveal a corpse—an ex-colleague turned material source.

Zhang Yu responded calmly, “It’s not about the money. I just figured I’d treat myself during this rare all-you-can-eat window.”

Che Yufei was stunned. He’d seen countless cultivation maniacs since high school, each more obsessed than the last. But Zhang Yu’s brand of madness left a fresh imprint in his mind.

Ruffling his white hair, Che Yufei finally sighed, “You can’t convert lifespan into power like this. This is suicide.”

“Your body hasn’t even started aging yet, and you’re already falling apart.”

“Look at me.”

He gestured to his white hair and beard. “Doctors say I’ve got at least ten years left. Which means I’ll definitely graduate from university.”

“And among the sixth-year Civil Engineering students, I’m aging the fastest. Know what that means?”

“It means I’ve got the highest return rate on lifespan investment. I’ll graduate alive and having squeezed out my full potential. That’s called ‘healthy cultivation.’”

“Wanna know my secret?”

“Two things: moderation and consistency.”

“One massage per day. One lifespan-burning pill per day, max. No overtime longer than 24 hours.”

“Stick to these three rules, and you’ll be like me—turn lifespan into cultivation and still live to see graduation.”

“Then just get a job, earn money, and buy back your years.”

Che Yufei really didn’t want Zhang Yu to drop dead. Talented Foundation cultivators in the Civil Engineering Department were rare. Lose one, and the seniors’ workload would spike.

Zhang Yu thanked him for the kind advice… then promptly ordered two more rounds of pills.

Che Yufei could only shake his head. “This guy… must owe a mountain of debt.”