No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Zhang Yu had been startled when he first saw the complex Mana Circulation Diagram.

But after trying it out for real, he realized—it was way simpler than the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique he practiced every day.

Compared to the full-body mana circulation system built by the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique, this path of converting mana into sharp Sword Aura was practically elementary.

And Zhang Yu had already pushed the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique to Level 10, repeating it countless times.

Practicing this now felt like a college student doing mental math against kids on a speed-calculation app—effortless.

So, following the projection’s circulation diagram, he guided mana to his right arm and, with a little trial and error, felt a sharp surge of energy shoot from his fingertip.

It barely counted as Sword Aura, no stronger than a utility knife, but it still thrilled him.

“Ah-Zhen, look! I did it!”

Bai Zhenzhen: Dumb shrimp-head Zhang Yu! Steamed goose heart!

Ms. Yan immediately turned to look and exclaimed, “You’ve practiced this before?”When Zhang Yu shook his head, she sighed in admiration. “Seems you’ve got a real talent for this.”

After noticing his talent, Ms. Yan became even more dedicated to her teaching.

She went over the basics of other Mana Transformation types—heat, cold, electricity—and was amazed to see Zhang Yu grasp each one quickly, nodding in approval repeatedly.

“That’s all for today. Go home and practice a lot.”

“Don’t forget, same time tomorrow and the day after. I’ll give you two more make-up classes.”

“I’ll teach you mana neutralization and mana intrusion next.”

Watching Zhang Yu’s back as he left, Ms. Yan thought to herself, “Kid, you’d better stomp those eight who skipped my make-up classes into the ground during the Law Tournament.”

As for placing in the tournament? Making it to the top ten to earn prize money and bonus points for university interviews?

Ms. Yan didn’t dare to hope that far.

If this were an athletic competition, Songyang High might have some edge.

Sure, tournament results and the college entrance exam were two separate things, but at least Songyang High had produced the city’s top athletic scorer before. It had always been known for sports.

But when it came to any competition besides sports, it was basically the private playground of the city’s top three schools. Their real opponents were only each other. Even other elite public schools in Songyang City rarely made a dent.

Ms. Yan’s best-case scenario was for Zhang Yu to outscore the other nine students from Songyang High, especially those who didn’t attend her make-up classes—so they’d regret it and come begging her for tutoring after the tournament.

…

Meanwhile, after leaving the classroom, Zhang Yu received a message from Zhou Chechen agreeing to continue the existing loan contract—meaning he’d keep making monthly payments.

Zhou Chechen had already bought Zhang Yu’s 700,000 Cultivation Loan and become his new creditor. Out of goodwill, he had said Zhang Yu could take it easy on the repayments.

Over the past few days, Zhang Yu had brought up the loan a few times in their chats. Zhou Chechen had declined at first, but eventually gave in and said he understood Zhang Yu’s desire to be debt-free.

“He agreed?”

Zhang Yu winced as he transferred the month’s payment of 15,000. It hurt, but he didn’t want Bai Zhenzhen’s warning to come true—he couldn’t afford to leave any legal handle open that could be used against him.

Especially since once the rich found out he was aiming to break through their blockade and get into one of the Ten Great Academies, a single overdue payment could be fatal.

And with the 15,000 payment, plus 3,000 for the make-up classes, his savings dropped to just over 43,000.

“Damn, money just evaporates.”

“Hope this Law Tournament earns me a good haul.”

…

Elsewhere.

While Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen were heading to their make-up class with Ms. Yan…

Liang Qin, just returning from the restroom, noticed Zhang Yu’s empty seat and frowned.

He searched the whole floor but found no trace of him.

“Wasn’t he just in class? Where the hell did he go?”

“Is he dodging me on purpose?”

“Just because he got lucky and became a Gold Core Cultivator, he’s acting all high and mighty?”

“If it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t be much better than me…”

Fuming, Liang Qin stepped out of the stairwell—and received a phone call.

The person on the other end asked something, and he replied vaguely, “Yeah, he already went home.”

“Nothing happened today.”

“Ever since he became a Gold Core Cultivator, he’s been acting like a paranoid freak, guarding his secrets like he’s afraid someone will steal his test answers.”

“I know. I’ll keep watching him. Don’t forget the money.”

After hanging up, Liang Qin looked distracted—until a bank transfer notification lit up his phone. Then, he smiled.

The truth was, he was especially broke lately.

Though almost everyone at Songyang High—students and teachers alike—was strapped for cash…

Liang Qin’s situation was worse.

His family had once been fairly well-off. They didn’t live downtown, but at least they weren’t in the suburbs. Their apartment sat on the city’s edge.

His mom was a stay-at-home wife; his dad a low-level office worker. Providing for him was tough, but not desperate.

That changed a month into high school.

Maybe it was the academic pressure, the constant decline in his grades, the suffocating aura of gifted peers, or the casual displays of wealth from rich kids… or maybe just the brutal strictness of the teachers.

Liang Qin wasn’t sure why, but the straight-A student he’d always been suddenly couldn’t concentrate in class.

He’d zone out halfway through Breathing Techniques, swipe through his phone instead of finishing Body Refining, daydream during talisman lessons…

He’d grown sick of studying.

And at Songyang High, getting sick of school was a death sentence.

Just imagining the consequences made it hard to breathe, which made things worse.

That was when a chance acquaintance—a second-year student—offered him an escape.

“Try this platform,” the upperclassman said.

Liang Qin hesitated. “Is this gambling with mana?”

The other shrugged. “A little wager to keep things spicy. If you win, relax for a few days. If you lose, it just adds pressure to push harder.”

He patted Liang Qin on the shoulder. “I was the same at first. This helped me loosen up.”

“Don’t worry. Geniuses like us who got into this school—we’ve got willpower to spare.”

“Just don’t get addicted. Use it to blow off some steam and maybe earn some mana on the side…”

Remembering his lifelong self-discipline, Liang Qin gave it a try.

The platform let you deposit money and gamble for mana.

If you won, you could collect mana through Hosting Roots trained by others.

If you lost, you had to either lend out your own Hosting Root to train someone else’s mana, or repay in cash.

He lost his first bet.

And his second.

Just when he thought the platform was a scam, he won his third bet—netting 0.3 mana.

He still remembered that rush—cashing out and extracting 0.3 mana from a Hosting Root the platform sent.

That sudden mana spike? Unforgettable.

After that, he gambled now and then.

At first, it worked just like the upperclassman had said.

A win gave him a mana cushion, saving him a whole session of Breathing Techniques and letting him relax.

A loss pushed him to work harder, motivated by shame.

“Yeah,” he thought during month two, “as long as I control myself, this platform isn’t bad at all…”

But now, four months in?

Regret. Regret. Regret.

He’d secretly used his parents’ credit cards. He was drowning in debt.

He often woke up in terror, afraid someone would barge in and rip out his Dantian, organs, or flesh to collect.

But here he was, outside the school gates, staring at a new transfer of 500 yuan—and his fingers itched again.

A moment later, the money was gone. He clenched his fists in despair, overwhelmed with regret.

“No worries,” he told himself. “I’ll stick close to Zhang Yu tomorrow and get paid again.”

“Next time, I’ll quit as soon as I win 300.”

“If I just use sheer willpower to fight off greed, I can pay off the debt bit by bit…”

He walked home, repeating his plan to patch up his mistakes.

…

In a Songyang High faculty office—

Su Haifeng watched a man hang up a call. “So Liang Qin was your plant?”

“But that kid’s turned into a total gambling addict. Can you even trust him?”

The other man smiled faintly. “He’s just keeping an eye on Zhang Yu. A throwaway piece, really—just making use of garbage. I never expected him to get results.”

Su Haifeng shook his head. “Zhang Yu already talked with the Student Council. He’ll probably sign the contract after the next monthly exam. You still won’t let go?”

The man replied coldly, “I was the one who got him into this school. Things may not have gone how I planned, but I won’t let go so easily.”

“Relax. I’ve already confirmed it—he and the Student Council will sign after the next exam.”

“I’ll handle everything before then.”

…

In the days that followed, Zhang Yu happily cultivated the Soul-Stabilizing Oxheart Technique, feeling the slow but steady rise of his Dao Heart level.

He still attended classes normally.

He also practiced the techniques he learned from Ms. Yan now and then, preparing for the Law Tournament.

In the blink of an eye, over ten days passed—and the tournament day finally arrived.

Thanks to the relentless drive of the Level 10 Soul-Stabilizing Oxheart Technique, Zhang Yu’s Dao Heart reached Level 2 (42%).

He figured he could probably reach Level 3 by the next monthly exam.

As for his mana, it had steadily risen through the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique and now sat at 15.4.

This mana spike once again shocked his classmates. But since his physical strength hadn’t changed much, they figured he’d focused entirely on mana refining and spirit cultivation—probably preparing to go all-in for the Law Tournament.

Outside Songyang High that day—

Ms. Yan gathered Zhang Yu, Bai Zhenzhen, Qian Shen, He Dayou, and others onto the bus headed to the first-year Law Tournament venue in Songyang City.