No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

In the rest area of Purple Cloud High.

Le Mulan was once again seated on the back of Lian Tianji.

Watching Bai Zhenzhen rushing toward the arena, phone in hand, trying to explain her right to use it to the referee, Le Mulan said, “Bai Zhenzhen can actually shop using Zhang Yu’s phone? She knows both his unlock and payment passwords?”

“They must be sworn companions bound by life and death.”

Seeing Zhang Yu walking slowly back to the rest area, Le Mulan patted Lian Tianji’s head. “You’re friends with that Zhang Yu, right?”

…

As soon as Zhang Yu returned to the rest area, he poured down every potion he’d bought before the match—ones that restored stamina, mana, and mental energy.

Feeling his strength quickly returning, his mind finally settled a bit.

The organizers had scheduled a thirty-minute break before the finals, which Zhang Yu deemed enough to recover eighty to ninety percent of his strength and mana.

From the side, Bai Zhenzhen asked, “Did you remember everything I told you just now?”When Zhang Yu nodded, she added, “Then I’ll stop talking. Get some rest and prep for the next round.”

Not long after Bai Zhenzhen left, Zhang Yu’s phone buzzed slightly. He glanced at it and saw that Lian Tianji had recommended him a new friend.

“Le Mulan?”

Baffled as to why Le Mulan wanted to add him, Zhang Yu still accepted the request.

Immediately, she messaged him: Let’s meet. I have something to discuss.

Zhang Yu walked out to a corridor near the arena, one with little foot traffic. There, he saw Le Mulan already waiting for him.

This academic ace from Purple Cloud High had a graceful face and an icy temperament. No matter where she went, she drew all eyes toward her.

As soon as Zhang Yu arrived, she got straight to the point. “Two hundred thousand. I’ll pay you to lose. Deal?”

Zhang Yu froze slightly. “You’re buying a tournament win?”

Le Mulan replied nonchalantly, “Wealth is power. Money is part of one’s strength. This martial arts competition is about finding the strongest. So why shouldn’t I use money to win?”

Zhang Yu snorted. “You’re not confident you can beat me?”

Le Mulan shook her head. “I just think that fighting you might cost more than two hundred thousand. So spending that amount for a guaranteed win feels like a bargain.”

Seeing Zhang Yu fall silent, Le Mulan added, “Not willing for two hundred? Fine. Four hundred thousand. But that’s my ceiling. I won’t go a cent higher.”

Zhang Yu swallowed hard. He had to admit, in that moment, the four hundred thousand Le Mulan was throwing at him hit harder than any move he’d faced in the entire tournament.

Four hundred grand—how many techniques could that buy? How long could it rent a Spirit Root for? How much cultivation equipment could he afford? How much stronger could he grow using talismans?

Zhang Yu even thought that with this money, his overall cultivation would improve far more than what he’d gain from the tournament prize—a meager fifty thousand and one Expert-Grade Martial Technique.

Because in Kunxu, if you have money, you have potential. You gain talent. You can charge forward on the Immortal Path. Even gods work for the wealthy.

Zhang Yu said, “Fine. Wire it to my QiCard.”

Le Mulan spread her fingers, and a violet-jade Talisman Book floated into her palm. “Then sign a contract with me under the witness of a Divine Official, and I’ll transfer the money immediately.”

When Zhang Yu didn’t immediately agree and instead fell silent, Le Mulan looked genuinely surprised. “You’re actually hesitating over four hundred thousand?”

She truly found it baffling.

“I heard from Lian Tianji that you once worked as a bodyguard for a few hundred bucks.”

“You poor folks fight tooth and nail every day for hundreds or thousands, yet when four hundred thousand’s right in front of you, you hesitate?”

“With your background, there’s no way you’re getting into the Ten Great Academies. Is winning this martial tournament that important?”

Her voice carried no mockery—just genuine confusion over Zhang Yu’s strange behavior.

Shaking her head, she turned to leave. “If you can’t decide right now, then I’ll be going. But until the finals begin, you can still come claim this four hundred thousand. Just know that I won’t raise the price.”

Watching her walk away, Zhang Yu messaged Zhang Pianpian: Sis, if I don’t win first place in the martial tournament and only get second, how badly does that hurt my chances of getting into the Ten Great Academies?

Zhang Pianpian: The route I arranged for you guys depends on high freshman grades and tournament performance. The better your rank, the higher your chances. First place definitely helps more than second.

Zhang Yu understood. Taking the four hundred thousand didn’t instantly disqualify him—but it would lower his chances a bit…

Just as the thought of accepting Le Mulan’s offer flickered seriously in his mind, that damned ritual started wailing inside his head again.

“Knew it.”

“You brain-dead ritual, you really don’t want me missing out on the Ten Great Academies, huh.”

Watching the four hundred thousand slip away filled Zhang Yu with a heart-wrenching pain—worse than slugging it out with Lian Tianji, worse than trading blows with Song Hailong.

“So this is what it feels like to lose a fortune…”

Immediately, Zhang Yu activated the Celestial Martial Heart-Forging Technique, severing all distracting thoughts.

Now, his heart held only one single intent:

He was going to slam that rich girl Le Mulan into the arena floor and beat the ever-loving hell out of her.

…

With the finals underway—

Le Mulan and Zhang Yu stepped onto the arena together.

The martial arts competition had reached its final stage.

Countless streaks of blue-white Sword Aura surged from Le Mulan like a tidal wave, slicing toward Zhang Yu with ferocious momentum.

Her Starry Sword Technique, once unleashed, came in endless waves, its formation strict and unyielding—like a battlefield phalanx, nearly impossible to break.

As Zhang Yu dodged left and right, blocking what he could with Formless Cloud Qi, Le Mulan felt like she was watching a panicked little rat scurry around.

“Trying to wear down my mana?”

She laughed. “You think you can?”

In the next instant, her Sword Aura erupted even more violently. Her mana surged like a mighty river, and its overwhelming flow now surpassed every other contestant present.

Just then, a female voice rang out from within her body.

“Welcome to the Purple Cloud Replaceable Core.”

“Remaining mana balance: eight million.”

Le Mulan touched her lower abdomen and looked toward Zhang Yu. “This replaceable core inside me holds mana worth eight million yuan.”

At the same time, glowing text appeared on her wrist: a number that began at eight million and ticked downward.

Clearly, as she continued to unleash mana and Sword Aura, the mana stored in her core was being depleted. But at a burn rate of only about a thousand yuan per second, she still had a long way to go.

This also meant that every second Le Mulan fought, she was literally burning a thousand yuan.

With a casual flick of her fingers, her Sword Aura howled toward Zhang Yu like a series of hurricanes. It wasn’t just impossible to approach her—he was being steadily pushed off the platform.

“If you’re worried my meridians can’t handle the mana overload, don’t be.”

“My Battle-Grade Spirit Root, ‘Mana Veins,’ is shielding all my channels, letting me maintain high output without damage.”

As she fired off Sword Aura after Sword Aura, her eight-million-yuan core seemingly inexhaustible, the audience began to stir with excitement.

This display put Song Hailong’s ten-million-yuan insurance policy to shame. His funds came from an insurance company—Le Mulan’s were cold, hard family cash.

One viewer gasped in awe, “She’s dazzling. The way she spends like money’s nothing—it’s beautiful.”

Another envied aloud, “Being rich really is the best. It’s pure bliss.”

Another came to a realization: “If you want to go far on the Immortal Path, it’s gotta be pay-to-win. I’m going home and maxing out my dad’s credit card.”

Hearing the rising noise from the stands, Le Mulan frowned slightly.

Still hurling Sword Aura, she glanced at Zhang Yu and said, “Hear that? Annoying as they are, they’re not wrong. Money is the foundation of cultivation.”

“As a poor guy, if you’d taken that forty grand, you’d have closed the gap just a little.”

“But instead, you chose to give up that chance to grow stronger.”

She looked toward Zhang Yu with a sincere curiosity. “You’re dirt poor, yet you refuse money. Why?”

It was clear—everything she’d said was building to that one question. It truly puzzled her.

Zhang Yu, seeing that earnest expression, couldn’t help but let out a small laugh of disbelief.

What the hell? Rich heiress observing the life of the poor, is that it?

He sneered. “So, forty thousand was your max offer because you think that’s all it would take to beat me?”

Le Mulan nodded. “Exactly. I ran the numbers. Your defeat is worth at most forty thousand. Any more would be wasteful.”

At that moment, the relentless Sword Aura finally broke through the Formless Cloud Qi, leaving a cut across Zhang Yu’s hand.

Zhang Yu murmured, “Then what if we include all the blood in this poor guy’s body?”

His blood dripped into the Qi, staining the Formless Cloud Qi with threads of crimson.

But rather than panic, Zhang Yu seemed ready. He flung the blood-soaked hand toward Le Mulan.

For the first time in the match, Le Mulan moved—dodging away from the flying blood.

The moment she did, a flaw appeared in her previously seamless Starry Sword Technique.

Zhang Yu shot forward like lightning, aiming to breach the layered Sword Aura and get close.

As he moved, one of Bai Zhenzhen’s tips flashed through his mind—

…

“That Le Mulan’s first weakness? She’s… kind of a clean freak.”

“My advice? Spit on her. Ideally, spit phlegm. She won’t just dodge it—she won’t even let her Sword Aura touch it.”