No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

After school that day.

In the cafeteria.

Zhang Yu was eating dinner with Zhou Tianyi and Bai Zhenzhen.

Bai Zhenzhen was just as silent and frosty as usual, calmly focused on shoveling a mountain of food into her mouth without saying a word.

Zhou Tianyi glanced at Zhang Yu and said, “Your financial situation’s looking kind of rough lately.”

“That obvious?”

Zhang Yu paused, startled. Could the collection calls have already reached his classmates? If so, wouldn’t his seventy-thousand-yuan debt be exposed at school?

Zhou Tianyi glanced at Bai Zhenzhen’s extravagant meal, loaded with chicken, duck, and fish, then looked at Zhang Yu’s sad little five-yuan budget combo.

Stroking his chin, he mused, “After three months of careful observation, I’ve concluded that what someone eats in the cafeteria tells you everything about their financial state—and even their cultivation level.”

“For instance, people who eat ten jin in one sitting aren’t gonna share a table with folks who only eat three.”“They’re on completely different rungs of the campus food chain.”

“So it’s ‘cause I’m eating less, huh.” Zhang Yu let out a breath of relief. For a moment, he thought his ultra-broke status had been exposed.

He turned to look at Bai Zhenzhen, eyeing the dozen drumsticks piled in her bowl. “A-Zhen, those chicken legs look special. Mind if I try one?”

Without even lifting her head, Bai Zhenzhen replied, “Scram.”

Zhou Tianyi laughed and handed Zhang Yu a duck leg from his own bowl. “Zhenzhen had a serious workout today—probably starving. Try mine instead.”

“Brother!” Zhang Yu gave him a thumbs-up and grabbed the duck leg, gnawing on it like a man possessed.

Watching Zhang Yu devour it, Zhou Tianyi smiled. “If you’re short on money, I can lend you some.”

Zhang Yu waved him off. “No need. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Though neck-deep in soul-devouring debt, Zhang Yu wasn’t planning to borrow from classmates. Besides, no one could lend him seventy grand in one go. What he needed was a way to earn steady income and keep repaying over time.

“At the very least, I need to cover the monthly interest. Can’t let the collection agency escalate again.”

Zhang Yu knew the longer he was overdue, the more ruthless the collectors would become. They’d go from digital harassment to physical intimidation—one step nastier than the last.

“Then there’s rent, utilities, food expenses…”

The more he thought about it, the more his head throbbed.

After Zhou Tianyi left, Bai Zhenzhen suddenly spoke. “Based on the past three months of observing you and Zhou Tianyi, I’d say he treats you very well.”

Zhang Yu blinked. “You think?”

Bai Zhenzhen gave a sarcastic little laugh. “A guy smiling while handing another guy a duck leg from his own bowl—eighteen years on this planet and I’ve only seen that happen in two cases.”

“One, they’re father and son.”

“The other, well… heheheh…”

Zhang Yu raised an eyebrow. “A-Zhen, you’ve got a pretty colorful viewing history, huh?”

Bai Zhenzhen replied, “Yuzi, you don’t need to be scared. In this school, you’re the one who holds all the power in the relationship.”

She pushed her tray toward him. “Ugh, I’m stuffed. Guess I’ll let you have the leftovers, seeing as you’re my dear boy.”

“Scram.” Zhang Yu snatched the tray anyway. A quick glance revealed a neat half-portion of untouched food.

When he looked up to thank her, all he saw was Bai Zhenzhen’s retreating back.

Outside the cafeteria, Bai Zhenzhen’s gaze grew distant again. She thought to herself, “Yuzi, actually… there’s a third kind of situation that would make someone do that.”

She looked toward the cafeteria steps, where a lunch lady was emptying slop from a waste bin into a bowl—for a stray cat.

…

After leaving school, Zhang Yu began looking for ways to earn money.

“My rent is fifteen hundred, utilities are over two hundred, and my loan payments are fifteen thousand a month…”

“Ugh…”

Just thinking about it made his brain ache again.

“I’ve gotta make at least twenty thousand a month. No way a normal job can cut it.”

With a thought, the Feathered Tome unfolded before him.

Zhang Yu

Dao Heart: Level 1

Mana: 7.7

Physical Strength: 0.84

Martial Arts:

Body-Refining Thirty-Six Forms – Level 2 (17/20)

Free Combat – Level 1

High School Basic Sword Technique – Level 0

Daoist Techniques:

Basic Breathing Technique – Level 1

Basic Heart-Forging Technique – Level 1

His gaze landed on the newly added “High School Basic Sword Technique – Level 0,” and his thoughts drifted back to that morning’s martial arts class.

Martial arts class was where students learned all sorts of hand-to-hand and armed combat techniques, and 80 out of 100 points came from actual sparring.

Freshmen were required to learn one unarmed and one weapon-based combat style.

This sword technique was from today’s class—but since he hadn’t properly practiced yet, it still showed as Level 0.

Zhang Yu tested it and found that even at Level 0, the technique could be dragged around the interface like the others.

If he specialized in it, his talent would let him master and level it up quickly.

As these thoughts flew through his head, Zhang Yu stared at his attributes panel, pondering what kind of job he could do.

“I’ve just stepped onto the Immortal Path, sure—but still, I’m a legit student at Songyang High.”

A moment later, he pulled out his phone and called the tutoring center he’d once attended.

The old Zhang Yu had gotten into Songyang High thanks to help from this very place.

“Tutoring centers pay well, and I go to Songyang now—that’s a leg up, right?”

But when he called, the teacher said they were already fully staffed and suggested he try elsewhere.

So Zhang Yu started cold-calling other centers.

“Hi, I’d like to apply as a part-time tutor. I’m a freshman at Songyang High…”

“Which elementary and junior high did you attend?”

“I mean, I’m already in Songyang now!”

“Sorry, but lots of our tutors also come from top high schools. For someone like you—still in your first year—parents care a lot about your elementary and middle school background.”

Once they heard where Zhang Yu had gone to school before high school, they all stopped replying.

After five or six rejections, Zhang Yu finally understood.

“Seriously?!”

“Even tutor gigs care this much about your elementary and junior high diplomas?”

“This industry’s that competitive now?!”

It felt like his past education was a pair of ugly stamps on his forehead—making even this part-time tutoring job way harder than it should be.

He had no choice but to give up on that path for now and try his backup plan.

“Guess I’ll have to try odd jobs first.”

Zhang Yu had already looked into this kind of work during the first three months of school.

Of course, by odd jobs he didn’t mean normal gigs for ordinary people, but temp work for people on the Immortal Path.

Plenty of high school students fell into this category—not everyone came from a wealthy family. Many had to support themselves or save up to buy things they needed.

Since they didn’t have diplomas yet and had classes to attend, they usually picked up temp work whenever possible.

Zhang Yu reached out to an agent he’d bookmarked and asked if there was anything available.

“You’re a bit late today—everything’s been picked up.”

“Wanna swing by and wait? If something opens up, you can grab it on the spot.”

…

Half an hour later, Zhang Yu arrived at a small plaza.

From afar, he saw scattered figures across the square—some sitting, some lying down. Old and young, male and female. A few were just napping on the ground; others in school uniforms were seated cross-legged, meditating.

Following the address, he found a tiny job agency in a corner of the plaza.

The place looked more like a dingy real estate office. The glass was grimy and plastered with crumpled job listings.

The moment Zhang Yu opened the door, a wave of smoke hit him. He wrinkled his nose.

Behind a messy desk, a middle-aged man glanced up and said, “You the high schooler who messaged me?”

Zhang Yu nodded.

The man introduced himself as Old Wang, the agent here. He pulled out a few sheets. “Fill out the forms and I’ll add you to the roster.”

Zhang Yu looked them over—besides basic info, they asked for martial arts and Daoist techniques, levels, and school grades.

After handing it in, he asked, “How long does it usually take to get a job? What’s the pay like?”

Old Wang scratched his unkempt hair and replied offhandedly, “Even the worst jobs pay a few hundred an hour… but no telling when something’ll open up. Could be a week of nothing if luck’s bad.”

Zhang Yu’s heart leapt. “That much per hour? If that’s real, I only need two or three hours a day to cover my loan and living expenses!”

But when he heard how hard it was to land gigs, he asked, “Why?”

He emphasized, “I’m top ten in my year at a key high school—still tough for me?”

Old Wang chuckled and pointed outside. “See all those folks out there? The rest of them are high school grads.”

Zhang Yu was stunned. “Seriously? They graduated, started cultivating, and they’re still here scrambling for temp work?”

Old Wang shrugged. “Not everyone gets into college. If you don’t, you’re stuck in the Qi Refining Realm forever—can’t even reach the second floor of Kunxu. You’ll be grinding away on the first floor year after year…”

Zhang Yu still didn’t get it. “Can’t they at least get a proper job on the first floor? Why come here?”

Old Wang explained, “They have full-time jobs. No need to sleep, remember? So when the company doesn’t make ’em work overtime, they come pick up temp gigs.”

“Otherwise, how else would they pay their loans? How would they maintain their cultivation?”

His words hit Zhang Yu like a slap to the face. In his memories, high school grads—even if they didn’t make it to college—were supposed to be working comfy office jobs in downtown towers, sipping tea in the AC.

But wow—24 hours of study before graduation, 24 hours of work after. Just gets harder and harder, huh?

Old Wang looked at Zhang Yu’s form and laughed. “Oh, Songyang High, huh? We’re schoolmates—I went there too. Dropped out in senior year.”

“Dropped out?”

“Couldn’t make it into college. No point wasting more money. Took me until two years ago to finally pay off my high school loan.”

“Since we’re alumni, let me give you a bit of advice.”

“Know your limits in high school. If you think you won’t make it, get out early. Better than piling on so much debt it ruins your whole life.”

After Zhang Yu handed in the form, Old Wang told him to wait outside—he’d be notified as soon as a job came up.

Zhang Yu asked, “Can I really compete with all those high school grads for gigs?”

Old Wang said, “Don’t worry. Some jobs specifically want students still in school.”