No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Feeling the tremor in her seat, Le Mulan didn’t scold anyone. After all, even she had just been startled by Zhang Yu’s sudden breakthrough.

“To achieve a breakthrough in the middle of combat… that’s impressive. No wonder Lian Tianji lost in a real fight.”

“But even so, the gap between him and Song Hailong is still too wide.”

A Level 5 Limitless Cloud Hands alone clearly wasn’t enough to close the gap. And sure enough, the scene unfolding on the ring was just as Le Mulan had anticipated.

Zhang Yu’s breakthrough in Limitless Cloud Hands only caught Song Hailong off guard momentarily. But once Song Hailong unleashed his Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold, combined with his superior strength and physique, he ultimately slammed Zhang Yu hard onto the ground.

“It’s over.”

Le Mulan knew well—once a fighter unfamiliar with grappling got taken down and caught in a ground clinch, they were as good as finished. Not a shred of hope remained.

But then, something completely unexpected happened.

Zhang Yu… was using the Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold on Song Hailong?

…On the ring.

Zhang Yu watched as Song Hailong repeated the Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold again and again. Then, he glanced down at the Feathered Tome, where the technique’s description shimmered into view. He realized this might be his only shot at victory—learning this martial technique right here and now.

…

Off the ring.

Le Mulan’s heart clenched. “Has he gone mad?”

“Is he seriously trying to learn a grappling technique mid-fight and use it against Song Hailong on the ground?”

She thought Zhang Yu had taken too many blows to the head. Yet, in the next few exchanges, she noticed something subtle. Zhang Yu’s grappling, though clumsy and unrefined, somehow managed to buy him precious moments at critical junctures, delaying the tide of defeat.

Especially when paired with Limitless Cloud Hands—he could redirect force, guide momentum, and struggle with increasing intensity.

“A martial arts prodigy, no doubt. The moment he came into contact with grappling, he instinctively made connections, weaving it into his own style and grasping the key to power flow.”

“But it’s still just delaying defeat…”

To Le Mulan, Zhang Yu was like someone dancing on a razor’s edge. Ground combat looked awkward, yes, but it was also extremely dangerous. If Song Hailong locked onto a joint or vital spot, the result could be snapped tendons and shattered bones—injuries that could leave one crippled.

Zhang Yu, alive and kicking one second, could be reduced to broken pulp the next under Song Hailong’s brute strength.

But then—Le Mulan suddenly shot to her feet.

On the ring, Zhang Yu’s technique abruptly shifted. What had been clumsy became sharp. What had been chaotic became fluid. He was now trading grapples with Song Hailong using the very same Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold.

“He learned it?”

“No… he’s mastered it?!”

Le Mulan wasn’t the only one stunned. Lian Tianji also stood up in shock. “He mastered an opponent’s martial technique mid-fight? That kind of talent…”

His face showed both excitement and fear.

This kind of terrifying martial aptitude—not only was it rare, but in recent years, no one had dared show it so brazenly.

Lian Tianji muttered, “Is he not afraid of bankruptcy? That’s piracy! He’s using an unlicensed technique in broad daylight!”

Meanwhile, Bai Zhenzhen suddenly snatched up Zhang Yu’s phone.

Lei Jun’s face was equally anxious and thrilled. He asked solemnly, “Do you know his password?”

Bai Zhenzhen nodded while typing rapidly. “I’ve borrowed money for Yuzi before. I know his password.”

Lei Jun reminded her, “The technique is called Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold. Just search ‘Back-Dragon…’”

Bai Zhenzhen quickly found it on the shopping site, but her face fell. Panic crept into her voice. “It’s 40,000 yuan. His balance isn’t enough!”

Just then, a notification chimed like celestial music in her ears.

Transfer received from Zhang Pianpian: 40,000 yuan.

As the digital manual and usage rights were delivered to Zhang Yu’s account, Bai Zhenzhen finally let out a breath of relief.

She and Lei Jun looked back to the ring—and it was as if a pair of dragons were wrestling across the ground.

Though Song Hailong still held the upper hand, he could never quite suppress Zhang Yu completely.

With each clash, Song Hailong began to feel it—Zhang Yu’s mastery of the technique was improving, to the point that he could intercept Song’s attacks and even begin to lock him down.

“What?!”

“His Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold… is better than mine?!”

If this had been a straight-up slugfest—punch for punch, palm for palm—even if Zhang Yu outclassed him in technique, Song Hailong might still win.

But when both were using the same grappling technique on the ground, even Song Hailong’s powerful physique wasn’t enough. If Zhang Yu managed a full lock, it would be dangerous.

Especially now—Zhang Yu’s arms surged with Level 5 Formless Cloud Qi.

Each time Song Hailong tried to grapple, Zhang Yu could redirect and disrupt him. And every time Zhang Yu made a move, Song Hailong had to burn more strength just to break free.

“Fine. I’ll just outlast him! With my physique, he’ll run out of strength first…”

They rolled and struggled across the ring, with Song Hailong forced to go all out to counter a slightly superior grappler.

Then he felt it—Zhang Yu’s power was beginning to fade.

Joy sparked in Song Hailong’s chest. “My chance to win!”

But in the very next instant, the ground beneath him seemed to vanish.

Caught up entirely in the fight, with no energy left to track his surroundings, he hadn’t even noticed—they had rolled all the way to the edge of the ring.

Then, Zhang Yu flung him out.

Bang!

With a heavy thud, Song Hailong’s feet hit the ground outside the ring. His mind was still blank.

“I lost?”

Realizing he’d landed outside the ring, a flash of fury crossed Song Hailong’s face. His muscles swelled as he prepared to charge back up and demand a rematch.

But three figures suddenly appeared in front of him.

Three referees, each placing a firm hand on his shoulders, holding him back. Gradually, Song Hailong calmed down.

He took a deep breath, looked up at Zhang Yu still standing on the platform, and slowly said, “You won.”

With that, he gave a shake of his body. “Let go of me. I’ll walk on my own.”

The referees withdrew their hands, and Song Hailong—with a face like frost—returned to White Dragon High School’s rest area.

Back on the ring, another referee had stepped up and asked Zhang Yu, “Do you have the usage rights for Song Hailong’s Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold?”

Clearly, Zhang Yu’s on-the-spot learning and use of the technique raised suspicions of pirated martial arts usage.

Just then, Bai Zhenzhen rushed over holding Zhang Yu’s phone. “He bought it! He bought the rights to use the Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold. Here’s the order confirmation.”

She showed the referee the digital receipt on the phone and also pulled out Zhang Yu’s Talisman Book, displaying the Inspectorate Department’s official stamp on it.

Seeing both the receipt and the official stamp, the referee said nothing more, giving only a warning before stepping down.

Bai Zhenzhen let out a long sigh of relief, then turned and scolded Zhang Yu. “What the hell were you thinking? Cracking martial techniques live on stage? Learning and using it on the spot? If the company had come after you, you’d have gone bankrupt!”

Zhang Yu scratched his head sheepishly. “Eh… I got caught up in the moment. All I could think about was winning.”

Then he gave her a grin. “And I figured you guys would have my back.”

Bai Zhenzhen rolled her eyes. “That move cost forty grand! If you don’t win this whole competition, you can pay it off yourself working overtime.”

Then she asked, “You hurt anywhere?”

Zhang Yu shook his head.

Though the match had been brutal, aside from some bruising, he was largely unharmed.

Mentally, though…

He kept rubbing his temples. The intense focus, the high-stakes grappling at the edge of collapse, and the frantic battle-based cultivation—it hadn’t felt like much at the time. But now that it was over, his brain felt like mush.

“Zhenzhen, help me back… I’m so dizzy.”

With a huff, Bai Zhenzhen simply scooped him up in a bridal carry and walked toward the Songyang High rest area.

As she carried him, she muttered, “We’ve invested so much in this martial arts tournament. You have to beat that bitch Le Mulan in the next round.”

Zhang Yu closed his eyes and rested, murmuring a soft “Mm.”

Bai Zhenzhen leaned down and whispered, “Let me tell you where Le Mulan’s weak spots are…”

…

Meanwhile, back at White Dragon High’s rest area, Song Hailong’s return cast a heavy cloud over the group.

The competition coach gave a dry cough and said, “Zhang Yu really is something. His numbers aren’t that high, but his martial arts talent is incredible. He keeps breaking through in battle. Definitely someone who can beat the strong while being weak on paper.”

“Sigh. Honestly, Hailong, you’re still stronger than he is overall. If it weren’t for the ring-out rule, it was just a matter of time before you had him.”

There are two classic ways to explain a loss.

One: claim you were careless.

Two: praise the opponent.

This coach clearly decided to use both.

Had it been any other student who lost, he wouldn’t have bothered. He’d have made them kneel before he said a word.

But this was his top student—wealthy, academically excellent. That changed the rules.

The rest of the students quickly chimed in.

“Yeah, Zhang Yu is tough.”

“Hailong only lost because he wasn’t watching his footing. The ring was super slippery today. No way he’d lose otherwise.”

“Who would’ve guessed the guy would break through during the fight? Or that he’d learn Back-Dragon Mountain-Toppling Hold on the spot?”

“Wait… did he even have the rights to use it? Can we get him disqualified or something?”

“The ref checked already. If they say it’s fine, it’s fine.”

The students from White Dragon High had mixed feelings about Zhang Yu.

They didn’t think he was stronger than Song Hailong—at least not on paper. His stats didn’t match up. So part of them couldn’t accept it.

But Zhang Yu had still done something none of them could: using technique and talent alone, he pulled off a miracle. And that—grudgingly—earned their respect.

Meanwhile, on a nearby stretcher, Chu Qiuhe, who’d been pretending to be unconscious, was silently rejoicing: “Yes! Keep hyping him up! Blow that Zhang Yu balloon up real big!”

The stronger Zhang Yu seemed, the more justifiable his earlier loss became.