No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

“The Journey to Spirit-Flesh Fusion: First station successfully generated.”

“This simulated scenario has been generated using advanced data modeling of Spirit-Flesh Fusion breakthroughs, incorporating extensive historical data and user profiling. It is highly realistic. Please consult your physician before proceeding if your Dao Heart level is below 13 or if you suffer from any of the following conditions...”

“Please confirm that you have read and agreed to the User Agreement.”

“All generated content in this scenario is the property of Heartforge Pavilion. Do not use for any commercial purposes.”

“Would you like to begin your Journey to Spirit-Flesh Fusion?”

…

Zhang Yu opened his eyes, his mind momentarily foggy.

“Who am I...?”

Gradually, he remembered. He was Zhang Yu, an employee at a Law Husk factory in Tianya City.

The factory provided room and board. Work started at 8:00 a.m. and ended at 5:00 p.m., with a one-hour lunch break.

The cafeteria served three meals a day—eggs and milk in the morning, two or three meat dishes for lunch and dinner, and snacks in the afternoon.

Zhang Yu had a habit of going to bed at 9:00 p.m. sharp, drifting off to the soft melodies of a jukebox in his dorm, and waking up refreshed at 7:00 a.m. to start a new day.

The factory followed a five-days-on, two-days-off schedule.

On his days off, Zhang Yu often went hiking in the nearby mountains or swimming—both helped bring him peace of mind.

Recently, he’d picked up a trendy new hobby: browsing the internet in the factory’s library.

However, many workers were interested in this newfangled thing, so he didn’t always get a turn.

And so, day by day, his quiet life went on. Zhang Yu’s greatest wish was to continue living like this until retirement—then to spend his twilight years peacefully on his pension, just like his father had.

This day marked the factory’s annual physical examination.

Zhang Yu lay on the surgical table, silently cycling the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique in his mind as a scalpel sliced into his abdomen. The factory’s doctors were removing the “impurities” within.

What they extracted was a mass like gnarled roots, tangled and crawling with strange tendrils.

Zhang Yu had overheard doctors calling this thing a “Spirit Root.”

Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Every year, Zhang Yu and his coworkers underwent surgeries to cut out the Spirit Roots in their bodies after their checkups.

But whether it was due to the roots’ tenacity or the surgeries being incomplete, the Spirit Roots always grew back.

Zhang Yu was thankful that the factory covered their medical bills—annual checkups, treatments, and surgeries were all free.

Just then, he heard the doctors talking nearby.

“Did you hear? Netherworld Palace’s synthetic Spirit Root tech just hit the market.”

“Yeah, I heard. Looks like our factory won’t last much longer. Can’t compete with industrialized production.”

“Do we need to shave this one?”

“Better shave it. It’s hot lately and the manager’s trying to cut the A/C budget.”

As the fur on Zhang Yu’s body began to fall away, he started to struggle.

“Why is he awake?”

“Increase the dosage.”

In a daze, pain radiated from his wounds.

He instinctively circulated the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique to resist the agony.

But over the years, his condition worsened. The doctors removed more and more of him, leaving him in constant pain, unable to sleep.

To rest at all, he had no choice but to keep cycling his technique, endlessly.

Until finally, one day, even in his dreams, his mind continued cultivating the technique unconsciously. Only then did he find brief respite from the pain—enough to sleep.

…

“Damn it…”

Zhang Yu pulled off the Spiritual Realm Mask, the memory of the experience still vivid in his mind, his expression strange.

“So I was a Demon-Kin in a Spirit Root breeding facility, constantly harvested... because of the pain, I cycled the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique day and night, until I literally cultivated myself into Spirit-Flesh Fusion?”

Suppressing his roiling emotions, Zhang Yu focused on recalling the sensation—how the technique had become second nature through relentless suffering.

“I think I’ve got a bit of the feel for it…”

“But it doesn’t seem like I’ve made any real progress?”

Fu Ji looked at him and said, “With Heart Techniques like this, the sensation is often ambiguous—blurry even.”

“Don’t overthink it. The more you obsess, the more it’ll mess with your flow. Just follow the process. When the time comes, it’ll happen naturally.”

Zhang Yu had heard the same thing in his Dao Heart class. He understood the principle, but after revisiting that painful simulation, he couldn’t help pondering.

“That factory… seems like the old Kunxu, back before the internet was common and Spirit Roots were still farmed.”

“The company must’ve collected data on Demon-Kin who reached Spirit-Flesh Fusion in those facilities and used that as one of the references to generate the simulation.”

“But the problem is…” Zhang Yu frowned slightly. “The Sacrificial Oxheart Technique I broke through with in the simulation wasn’t the complete version I have in my mind.”

“What if I just can’t break through?”

“Forget it. Heartforge Pavilion says if I fail, I can apply for a refund. Might as well keep trying.”

Clearing his mind, Zhang Yu headed to Floor 667 to start his shift.

On the worksite, Formless Golems zipped around, twisting, cutting, and assembling rebar.

Zhang Yu, at the moment, hadn’t activated Mana Pulse Flowing Stream but was using the University Saint Body, continuing his cultivation of the Expert-Grade Breathing Technique.

Even so, the nearby inspector Ying Xin was stunned as she watched.

“Two months since I last saw him, and this kid’s work efficiency’s jumped so much?”

“He’s maintaining a humanoid form purely with Martial Qi—his conduction rate, mana reserves, and recovery speed have all improved drastically.”

“Could he actually become top of the class?”

Then she shook her head instinctively. “No way. Ji Yuanshu has way too much money. No one in our class can surpass him.”

…

In a 100-square-meter suite on the 450th floor.

Ji Yuanshu’s EyeNet flashed with a Luck Monitoring alert.

His odds of victory had shifted again—Zhang Yu’s win rate had risen ever so slightly.

Ji Yuanshu traced the change to its source and immediately saw Zhang Yu’s recent work performance.

“Not bad.”

“For a typical Civil Engineering student, you’ve done quite well.”

“But still, if all you think about is improving on a construction site, you’ll never break free.”

“The difference between us... is one of dimensions.”

…

The next day after school, Zhang Yu began his second Journey to Spirit-Flesh Fusion.

As his eyes opened, memories of this new identity flooded in.

He was Zhang Yu from Jingshui County, one of the “Four Princes of Jingshui” who monopolized the county’s seed, water, farm machinery, and banking businesses.

Zhang Yu owned the county’s largest medicinal herb fields, with hundreds of Demon-Kin slaves under his control.

His first daily joy was watching those slaves toil diligently in his endless fields.

The second joy was hunting.

One day, during a hunt, he was outdone and mocked by another rich young lord.

Frustrated, Zhang Yu returned home and bought a magical artifact from a traveling merchant.

It was said to prolong life, sharpen senses, and enhance agility. A city-made health artifact, extremely popular in urban circles.

Whether by coincidence or fate, he dominated the next hunt and earned the top spot.

From then on, he became a firm believer, buying more and more until his room was filled with them.

Years passed. Zhang Yu’s health deteriorated. A physical exam revealed his organs had been completely permeated by Zone 18 Miasma.

In the following months, his body wasted away. To prevent further corrosion, his organs, eyes, and limbs were removed one after another.

To endure the agony, he practiced the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique day and night, just to forget the pain.

Whenever he was ready to give up, his family’s voices kept him going.

“Zhang Yu! Look, this is Dad’s remittance. Everyone’s sending money for your treatment. Hang in there!”

“Son, can you feel it? The whole family’s savings are flowing into you! Don’t underestimate the power of our family bonds!”

“Don’t give up, bro! After spending so much on treatment, are you really just going to die? You’ll waste all that money!”

Watching the fluctuating bank transfers, Zhang Yu felt as if countless hands from his family were pushing him back from the brink of death.

Not just family—countless doctors’ hands were also pulling him back to the living.

But it hurt so damn much.

Zhang Yu felt like his blood, flesh, and bones had turned to sludge. A single thought consumed him: Maybe it’s better to die.

“How’s the patient?”

“No hope.”

“Keep sustaining him. His family’s paying a fortune. The whole hospital’s running on him. Keep him going as long as possible.”

“This Zone 18 Miasma case is rare. Who knew the damage would be this severe?”

“Make sure to record every detail until death. The data’ll sell well to the companies…”

In the unending pain, Zhang Yu could no longer see or hear.

In the darkness, he had only one refuge—endlessly cycling the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique, begging to forget the pain and never wake up screaming again.

…

“Goddamn…”

Zhang Yu tore off the Spiritual Realm Mask, phantom pain still echoing through his body.

“Too damn painful.”

“Is it because I practice the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique that they keep giving me simulations like this?”

“Are all the upcoming Spirit-Flesh Fusion journeys going to be like this?”

“Is there no normal way to break through with this damn technique?”

Despite the swirling doubts, Zhang Yu forced himself to suppress them, trying to recall the moment of breakthrough from the simulation.

The white ox in his mind seemed more agile than before—but the signs of Spirit-Flesh Fusion still hadn’t emerged.

Just then, Zhang Yu received a message from Tu Lishan.

Tu Lishan: Ji Yuanshu joined the team, and Ma Xuan replaced you with a sub?

Zhang Yu: Yes.

Zhang Yu knew Tu Lishan had been the one to recommend him to Ma Xuan’s competition team. Now that Tu had heard the news, it was only natural he’d ask.

But Tu Lishan wasn’t here to defend him—he just wanted confirmation.

As he read Zhang Yu’s reply, Tu mused silently, “Ma Xuan is from Director Gao’s faction. Director Gao’s always stayed neutral between our sides. So is this just Ma acting for the competition’s sake—or is Director Gao making a move?”

Meanwhile, back at the dorms, a figure suddenly burst through the door and rushed to Zhang Yu’s side.

“Zhang Yu, let’s hurry.”

Le Mulan entered briskly, plopping down right in front of him.