No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

The stationery store outside Songyang High was always stocked with everything a student might need.

From pens and notebooks to more… specialized goods.

Behind the counter stood a massive glass cabinet, reminiscent of a pharmacy. It was packed with everything from tranquilizers and stimulants to concentration enhancers—any kind of pill a high schooler might crave.

Zhang Yu leaned on the counter and asked, “Boss, got any neural filler?”

The shopkeeper didn’t even look up from his phone. “You want the expensive kind or the cheap kind?”

“I’m a student. Can’t you give me the expensive one for cheap?” Zhang Yu grinned.

That finally got the shopkeeper to glance up and size him up.

Unbothered, Zhang Yu added, “I’m ranked tenth in Class 1, first year. Bit of a campus celebrity. If your product works on me, my classmates will be lining up.”

The shopkeeper curled his lip but pulled a box from the cabinet. “Purplecloud’s neural filler. Guaranteed to let you get by on twenty minutes of sleep a day. Five hundred per box. I’ll give it to you for four eighty.”

Zhang Yu picked it up and examined it. “No freebies?”The shopkeeper frowned but threw in a few painkillers. “Here. Complimentary.”

Zhang Yu chuckled, stuffed the pills into his pocket, and said, “Thanks, boss. As for the neural filler… maybe I don’t want it after all?”

The shopkeeper’s face immediately darkened.

Zhang Yu quickly scanned the QR code beside the counter. “Kidding! Just messing around. I’ll pay right now.”

He grabbed the neural filler, though it made his heart ache a little.

Four eighty. For a week’s supply. That left his account with only seventeen hundred and change.

Still, Zhang Yu believed it was worth it.

He’d already decided to enter the Law Battle. That meant giving it his all—no sleep for the next week. Full-on cultivation of the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique.

“Heh. I’m aiming way higher than just the top ten.”

…

Meanwhile, Zhao Tianxing had followed him into the store and watched him buy the pills.

“Was that really neural filler?” he muttered to himself.

He trailed Zhang Yu down the street, trying to keep his distance. But when he turned a corner, he was startled to see Zhang Yu standing there, waiting.

“Uh… hey, Zhang Yu,” Zhao said awkwardly. “What a coincidence. You take this road too?”

“Why are you following me?” Zhang Yu asked bluntly.

Zhao scratched his head. “Following you? Nah, I always go this way after school.”

“Really? You’re over two meters tall, weigh more than three hundred pounds. I spotted you the moment you left the cafeteria.”

Zhang Yu frowned. “What do you want?”

Of course, Zhao Tianxing couldn’t admit that PE teacher Wang Hai had told him to shadow Zhang Yu and investigate his supply channels.

So he scratched his head again and said, sheepishly, “I think you’re really impressive. I wanted to tag along and learn from you.”

Zhang Yu looked at the hulking eighteen-year-old acting all shy and thought, “Seriously? Is your social game stuck in elementary school?”

After a moment, he said, “Sure, but only if you buy me fried chicken.”

A chill ran through his body. The countdown in his head pulsed louder.

He waved and started walking. “Let’s talk on the way.”

Zhao trailed behind, worried. “You’re gonna eat fried chicken? That’s a body-refining taboo. Teacher Wang said we shouldn’t. Can we make it chicken breast?”

“Relax. You’re not eating it. You’re just buying it for me.” Zhang Yu wiped some drool from his mouth.

He hadn’t tasted fried chicken since arriving in this world. His meals had all been pitifully bland health packs from the school cafeteria.

Weeks of nonstop cultivation had left him no time to relax—and certainly no budget for luxuries.

But now that fried chicken was on the table, his mood lifted. His stress eased just a bit.

Zhao followed him onto the subway, off the subway, and all the way to a fried chicken joint.

“This far for one store?” Zhao asked. “Must be amazing.”

“It’s just on the way,” Zhang Yu said.

But the moment he stepped inside, the countdown in his head screamed again.

He turned to Zhao and said, “Get me a combo. I’ll wait here.”

Then he sat cross-legged and began meditating.

Zhao scratched his head. He had no idea what was going on.

Later, he watched Zhang Yu munch happily on a drumstick. And felt more confused than ever.

“This guy’s disciplined enough to meditate in line… but still eats fried chicken? What a weirdo.”

What happened next only deepened Zhao’s confusion.

Zhang Yu didn’t go to cram school. Didn’t buy more pills. He went to a public square to look for a gig.

“You’re getting a part-time job?” Zhao asked.

Zhang Yu rubbed his belly, found a clean spot to sit, and said, “Fried chicken doesn’t come with conversation. I’m gonna cultivate and wait for work. Do whatever you want.”

Then he began breathing exercises right there in the square.

Zhao stared. “Here?”

He looked at the dirty puddles, the blasting music from a barbershop across the street, the sketchy crowd of job-seekers…

“Here?” he repeated.

But Zhang Yu was already fully immersed in the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique, ignoring him completely.

Zhao squatted beside him and watched closely. He really was meditating.

“Why here of all places? Just killing time while waiting for work?”

Half an hour passed. Zhang Yu didn’t move.

An hour. Still as a statue.

Over two hours later, Zhao had stopped meditating and was running through the Body-Refining Thirty-Six Forms.

Zhang Yu didn’t scratch, blink, or fidget. His breath didn’t even waver.

Zhao was awestruck.

“Such intense focus… No wonder his zero-distraction rate holds for days.”

“But without a spirit root, without a high-spirit-energy environment, and without any enhancers… is this kind of low-efficiency breathing really worth it?”

Still, Zhang Yu’s focus paid off—the progress on his Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique ticked up to Level 4 (12/80).

Just then, a van rolled into the square.

They were recruiting security staff.

Zhang Yu figured he didn’t stand a chance against the older folks here.

But then he heard the recruiter say they wanted someone young, with a good build and a clean look. Had to be easy on the eyes.

Zhang Yu’s eyes flew open. He strode up with confidence.

“How about me?”

The recruiter’s eyes lit up. “Great, great! You’re perfect!”

But instead of shaking Zhang Yu’s hand, he brushed past and grabbed Zhao’s.

“Good build, clean face!”

“This chest!”

“This waist!”

“This back!”

He clapped Zhao all over and raved, “Perfect proportions! Still green, but full of potential. This kind of physique takes brutal training, strict routines, elite guidance, and heavy use of supplements and injections. No way this was built casually!”

“You’re hired! Eight hundred an hour. Come with me.”

Zhang Yu stood frozen, stunned.

His sleek muscles, refined features, and otherworldly charm… all lost to a muscle-bound meathead?

“Boss, what about me? I’m good too!”

The recruiter glanced over and shook his head. “Too scrawny.”

“Not reassuring as a guard. You’d block half as many flying swords.”

Zhao stammered, “Actually, I wasn’t planning to—”

Zhang Yu quickly cut in. “We’re sworn brothers! We go into every job together, one or many, always as a pair!”

The recruiter squinted at both of them.

“Alright. You get four hundred an hour. Four hours total. Deal?”

Zhang Yu nodded furiously. “Deal! Deal! Deal!”

He dragged Zhao toward the van.

“I’m not here to work,” Zhao said awkwardly. “And if I get home too late, my mom’ll worry. I should go explain—”

Zhang Yu interrupted, “Didn’t you say you wanted to talk to me? Come do this gig and we can talk all you want.”

Zhao thought of Wang Hai’s assignment and reluctantly agreed. “I’ll just call my mom first.”

The van drove them into the city. On the way, the driver explained their job.

“Ms. Li Xuelian is hosting an art exhibit in the Sky Hall on the 999th floor. Security’s already tight.”

“But Ms. Li isn’t happy with how her inner guards look. Says it ruins the viewing experience. So we’re bringing in some fresh-faced young guns.”

“When you get there, change into the uniform and follow the team leader’s instructions.”

“And remember—do not, under any circumstances, offend Ms. Li.”

Zhang Yu asked, “She must be rich, huh?”

“Rich?” The driver snorted. “She’s the daughter of a real Gold Core Cultivator!”