No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Zhang Yu could tell at a glance that the flying swords floating on the field were nothing like the toy swords his original body once owned as a child. These were clearly not things you could mess around with casually.

While the crowd voiced their dissatisfaction, the host remained unbothered as he finished reading the sponsor’s tagline and began announcing the rules for the first round.

The flying swords floating in midair were a product from Nine Heavens Flying Sword, a manufacturer of civilian-grade mana swords.

They boasted that there was no need to learn any Sword Control Techniques, no requirement for Dao Heart level—anyone could operate them using only changes in their mana output. The test was purely about how well one could control the flying sword with mana.

The sword sheath acted like a remote and mana transmitter. Depending on the frequency, type, and intensity of the mana input, it allowed for varied control of the sword.

The round’s challenge was for contestants to use these flying swords to hit signal plates darting through the air. The faster and more accurate the hits, the higher the score.

This round, just like the upcoming second and third rounds, had a maximum score of 100 points.

The final ranking for the Law Tournament would be based on the total score from all three rounds.

Once the flying sword user manuals were handed out, students were given half an hour to study them.

Behind the team from White Dragon High School, a middle-aged man in athletic wear smiled and said, “So this round’s testing mana control, huh? Not too ridiculous, at least. I was worried they’d make us learn Sword Control Techniques on the spot.”This man was Han Xingye, White Dragon High’s competition coach.

Unlike Songyang High, where mana teachers doubled as competition advisors, White Dragon High had dedicated staff just for that.

Upon hearing Han Xingye speak, Song Hailong casually ran a hand through his spiky hair and said, “This is our first competition this year.”

“Coach, take a look around and let us know who to watch out for—especially Purple Cloud and Red Tower. Let’s see how strong their cohort is.”

White Dragon High, Purple Cloud High, and Red Tower High were the top three schools in Songyang City. Barring surprises, their students would be the ones competing against each other over the next three years.

Han Xingye nodded readily—not just because of Song Hailong’s solid performance, but because of his undeniable status as a rich heir.

This young man was the golden boy of one of Songyang’s prestigious families, a top performer in the family’s KPI rankings. He was the ace of his generation.

Han Xingye tapped and swiped his Feathered Tome several times. A surge of mana later, he activated the Heavenly Eye Sigil.

The Heavenly Eye Sigil was a way to request an evaluation from the All-Knowing Deity under the Ministry of the Masses.

It produced a generalized score based on a person’s bank savings, assets, school records, job performance, family background—essentially a blurry composite of everything.

If blurry wasn’t good enough and you wanted more detail? Well, you’d need a higher Faith Level and deeper pockets.

In short: the clearer the evaluation, the more it cost.

Han Xingye only dared to skim the surface now—he didn’t want to go bankrupt just by taking a glance. That sort of thing had happened in Kunxu before.

As he activated the sigil, golden motes of light gathered in his eyes.

When he looked across the venue, text began to appear above each person’s head.

“Not worth mentioning, not worth mentioning, not worth mentioning, not worth mentioning, not worth mentioning...”

“Not worth mentioning, not worth mentioning, bankrupt gambling addict, not worth mentioning...”

“Not worth mentioning, ice-jade beauty (expand details), not worth mentioning...”

“Hm?”

His gaze sharpened. A girl from Purple Cloud High had climbed into the spectator stands.

“That’s Le Mulan from Purple Cloud, right? What’s she doing up there? Studying the signal plates?”

As he looked closer, her floating label expanded:

Ice-Jade Beauty | Pill Buff | High Caste | Purple Cloud Loyalist | Untouchable Goddess

Han Xingye, a veteran Heaven-Eye user, quickly pieced together the meaning of those vague descriptors.

“A girl with a rare physique, high pill compatibility, strong academic performance, fiercely loyal to Purple Cloud, and—overall—a high-quality rich kid.”

“Pills? Physique?”

He sent a few keywords over to Song Hailong, then resumed scanning the field.

As Han Xingye kept “gazing upon” the students, the competition began.

There were eighteen sub-arenas, with each round drawing eighteen students to simultaneously control flying swords and shoot at signal plates.

Under the Heavenly Eye Sigil, most students from regular schools were “not worth mentioning.” They fumbled around with the flying swords, barely managing to hit one or two plates. Judges gave out 10s or 20s generously.

“Looks like none of them have handled flying swords before.”

Han Xingye knew that even if the round was technically about mana control, hands-on experience made a big difference.

The ability to judge spatial depth, speed, accuracy—all of that mattered. Even with strong mana control, someone handling a flying sword for the first time would struggle.

For elite schools like theirs, flying swords weren’t anything special.

All ten students from White Dragon had at least four or five swords at home.

Song Hailong’s family? He had an entire sword vault filled with hundreds of them.

Soon, more “Rare” and “Elite” labels began popping up—star students from regular schools or top-performers from prestigious ones.

“Thirty or forty points would be impressive for them,” Han muttered. “If not for the Nine Heavens sword being such quality gear, they’d be lucky to hit anything.”

That got him thinking—maybe he should buy one himself.

Then, a new label caught his eye amid the usual tags.

Pure-Born Score Slave

He glanced at the student’s uniform—Songyang High.

Qian Shen took a deep breath and gripped the sword sheath.

The moment he poured mana into it, the sword whooshed out.

This sword had no hilt—just a razor-edged blade that shot skyward like a streak of silver light.

Qian Shen had practiced a few times with his grandfather’s flying sword.

Following tips from his tutor, he adjusted his mana rhythm to guide the blade as it struck target after target.

Score: 72

“Not bad,” Qian Shen murmured, exhaling. “Should be good enough.”

Han Xingye glanced at the score and shook his head.

“Sigh… Songyang used to be a flagship school. The students just keep getting worse.”

“They’re too stuck in their ways—refuse to adopt Purple Cloud’s caste scoring system or our school’s low-score slave structure. No innovation, and now they’re falling behind the times.”

He kept scanning. Suddenly, a new label stood out:

Son of Heaven Diligence

A Purple Cloud student, Lian Tianji, stepped onto the field and unleashed his flying sword—bam, 90 points in a flash.

“Yep, that’s Lian Tianji. Most attuned to the Heaven-Diligence Heart Technique in their year.”

Soon, more notable students emerged.

One from Songyang was labeled “School Board’s Son”—scored 78.

Le Mulan hit the stage and instantly smashed the top score with a jaw-dropping 95, drawing gasps from the crowd.

Then, something—or someone—else caught Han Xingye’s attention.

Sword Freak (expand details)

“A Songyang student?”

He narrowed his eyes at Bai Zhenzhen.

Normally, expandable tags meant complex backgrounds or rare talent. He didn’t expect to see one from Songyang.

Her label unfurled:

Sword Freak | Fist Freak | Palm Freak | Blade Freak | Spear Freak | Pill Freak | Score Tyrant | Loan Slave | Credit Card Slave | Dao Techniques Are Useless Theorist | Songyang Hater | She’s Very Poor...

Han Xingye was stunned.

He’d never been shocked by a Songyang student before—until now. Her “attributes” were so convoluted it was genuinely mind-boggling.

But his surprise faded fast when he saw her score: 34.

“No idea what’s with that tag wall, but judging by the score, she’s not worth mentioning.”

Then Song Hailong took the stage—and took off his towering hair.

Zhang Yu gaped. “What the—he’s bald in high school?”

Bai Zhenzhen returned, looking glum. “That’s not hair. That’s an External Spirit Root.”

“External Spirit Root?” Zhang Yu blinked. He’d heard of them before but never seen one in person.

“That’s not like those outdated models we had in school. This is plug-and-play, hot-swappable. Yuzi, remember this—this is what I want for my birthday.”

Zhang Yu patted her shoulder. “Can’t afford an External Spirit Root. But I can get you a bald head and a wig.”

She rolled her eyes but kept staring at the wig on Song Hailong’s chair, visibly weighing the odds of stealing it.

One glance around at the students and teachers, and she sighed in defeat.

On the field, Song Hailong smiled as he felt his mana flowing effortlessly.

People installed Spirit Roots to amplify their mana output?

That was a poor man’s mindset.

He’d installed his to train his control, using the intense mana surges during breathing and refinement to sharpen his precision.

Weaklings feared being overwhelmed. For a strong cultivator like him, this was the perfect training tool.

He gripped the sheath, channeled mana—

The sword flew like lightning.

Han Xingye watched, satisfied, as his student tore through the air, racking up 100 points in seconds—now the highest score.

“100 only because that’s the max.”

“With Hailong’s deep reserves, precise control, and familiarity, the only limit was the scoreboard.”

Meanwhile, back in the rest area, Teacher Yan kept glancing at Bai Zhenzhen.

“She only started practicing for the Law Tournament recently, right? That’s a fast improvement. Is it talent—or luck?”

But in her eyes, Bai Zhenzhen’s mana aptitude still couldn’t compare to Zhang Yu’s.

Soon enough, it was Zhang Yu’s turn.

He stepped forward and gripped the sheath. As his mana slowly flowed in, he could feel the sword begin to tremble.

Back in the rest area, he’d been strategizing how to score as high as possible.

It was like having working hands and then being told, “Oh? Good finger control? Let’s see you use an excavator to open a soda bottle.”

An unfair, lopsided game where the rich had every advantage.

He cursed silently.

“These flying swords feel more like drones or FPV flyers. No matter how good your mana control is, if you’ve never handled one before, you’re bound to fumble.”

Trying to guide the blade to strike those palm-sized signal plates flying through the air was absurdly hard.

“So I can’t use it the normal way…”