No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

“Of the Eight Divine Ministries, the very first one established by the Immortals was the Ministry of Finance and Taxation. And the first deity of that ministry was none other than the All-Born Deity of All Beings.”

“The currencies used across the many levels and sects of Kunxu were all issued by this deity.”

“It’s fair to say that among the Eight Divine Ministries, the Ministry of Finance and Taxation reigns supreme. And this All-Born Deity of All Beings can be called a god among gods, a god above gods—widely revered as the God of Wealth.”

“But later, the Ten Major Sects gradually realized that simply controlling currency issuance wasn’t enough.”

“They needed to regulate the money supply and circulation across all levels in order to truly govern Kunxu.”

“If something went wrong, it could spark a catastrophic Heavenly Calamity of Economics—triggering wave after wave of corporate wars, resulting in endless casualties, suicides, and the collapse of noble houses and powerful companies alike...”

“Even the Immortals of the Ten Major Sects weren’t infallible. In all their years ruling Kunxu, multiple economic calamities have erupted, throwing the entire realm into chaos.”

“Only those flawless True Immortals—who’d transcended the Three Loans and evaded the Five Insurances, and even had the power to mint their own currency—were ever truly untouched by such disasters. They always emerged after each crisis to restore order to Kunxu.”

“Eventually, the Immortals of the Ten Major Sects commanded the Eight Divine Officials to begin reclaiming the world’s wealth.”

At this point, Fu Ji exclaimed with admiration and longing, “Issuing money with one hand and reclaiming it with the other—controlling the profits of all thirty-six levels of Kunxu—means that the fate, fortune, and survival of countless beings rest in their hands.”Bai Zhenzhen exhaled softly after hearing Fu Ji’s long explanation.

As a high schooler, she hadn’t fully grasped every detail, but one thing was crystal clear: earning money—or more accurately, reclaiming currency—was crucial for the Righteous Gods.

Fu Ji continued, “Every Righteous God has an annual KPI: how much money they can make, or how much currency they can reclaim.”

“So just giving that sixth-rank god an opportunity to profit off the Zhou Family would already count as a significant merit for her.”

“But even a Righteous God can’t act recklessly. And she’s only a sixth-rank god.”

“That’s why our job is to give her that opportunity—to create a proper pretext. Then she’ll naturally clamp down on the Zhou Family.”

…

Hours later, while Zhang Yu and his team were still mapping out their plan, their enemies beat them to the punch.

Zhang Yu’s phone buzzed—it was a message from Yun Ni, the patrol captain of Songyang City.

Yun Ni: “Head office suddenly wants to investigate redundant personnel. If you and Bai Zhenzhen don’t want to be demoted to Divine Assistant roles, you’ll need to clock in daily starting next week.”

Zhang Yu frowned. If he had to report in every day, how would he find time to cultivate and make money?

Still, he wasn’t ready to give up the outsourced Divine Assistant title. He immediately asked, “Any way to avoid clocking in?”

Yun Ni: “No can do. They’re cracking down hard this time. I can’t shield you.”

Fu Ji, listening in, nudged, “Ask her who’s behind this.”

After further prodding, Yun Ni finally replied with a single character: “Zhou.”

Zhang Yu immediately understood. “The Zhou Family is at it again?”

“First the curriculum reform, then the extra tutoring—and now they want me to sit in an office every day?”

He could feel it: they were systematically cutting into his time for study, cultivation, and income. If it had been an average student in his place, they’d already be overwhelmed, falling behind in grades and backsliding in cultivation.

Bai Zhenzhen scowled at Yun Ni’s message. “What’s their deal? The Zhou Family won’t confront us directly—just keep playing these mind games?”

Fu Ji mused, “They’re trying to wear you down.”

Zhang Yu said, “No way I’m playing along with this. If the Zhou Family has the pull to sway the patrol department, then reporting in would only trap us in their rhythm—making it easier for them to keep targeting us.”

“We have to stick to our pace and use the information gap to counter them.”

…

The next morning, after taking an overnight train, Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen returned to school.

After activating the power of the Anti-Detection Ritual a few times for testing, Zhang Yu again sensed the same hidden camera that had been monitoring him before.

“So, the surveillance resumes the moment we return?”

But neither he nor Bai Zhenzhen showed any reaction. They went on with their regular schedule—classes, cultivation, training, and tutoring—as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop of a nearby building…

A young man was watching Zhang Yu through a surveillance camera.

He had delicate features and stood under 1.9 meters tall—considered short for a cultivator—but carried an intense, fearless aura.

His name was Yue Jincheng, a fresh recruit in the security division of Wanxing Education Group, with less than a year on the job.

When first assigned to monitor Zhang Yu, he’d been meticulous and tireless—watching every move with unwavering attention. He was eager to earn merit, get promoted, and eventually become team captain.

After all, university students from Kunxu’s second floor were now a dime a dozen. For someone like him, from the first floor, staying in the second floor was nearly impossible.

As a result, more and more graduates were forced to return home, making it harder each year to find employment in Songyang City.

Yue Jincheng deeply cherished his hard-earned job. Since joining, he had lived in the company, paid for his own meals, and even shelled out for overnight lodging fees—always staying late, always taking overtime.

When he first got the surveillance assignment, he was filled with ambition. But the more he watched Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen’s repetitive lives, the more disillusioned he became.

Over time, he found himself working slower and scrolling on his phone more.

Watching Zhang Yu train again through the lens, Yue Jincheng sighed internally, “At least you’re cultivating. Me? I just watch you do it. What am I even doing with my life?”

After a few dull hours, Yue Jincheng couldn’t help picking up the walkie-talkie. “Senior Si, we can’t just keep waiting like this.”

Across the rooftop, a woman was watching Bai Zhenzhen while listening to an audiobook.

It was Si Zhouyu—the same woman who once tailed Bai Zhenzhen during her food delivery days.

She frowned. “What are you suggesting?”

Yue Jincheng replied, “Zhang Yu or Bai Zhenzhen—either way, they’re just two high schoolers. With our abilities, we could easily snatch their phones or sneak into their dorms.”

“Then we’d finally know what secrets they’re hiding.”

Si Zhouyu shared a similar thought. She, too, believed they could easily handle the two. But as someone who hadn’t been promoted in twenty years, she also understood: no matter how tempting, disobeying company orders was never an option.

She snapped, “Leadership gave us this assignment for a reason. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Yue Jincheng glanced over at her, eyes full of disdain.

He’d already looked down on Si Zhouyu—especially after learning she only had a junior college degree. Compared to his prestigious graduation from one of the 72 Lower Academies, she was a joke.

“Her school doesn’t even deserve to be called a university.”

“I won’t waste my years like she has. In another year or two, I’ll outrank her.”

Time ticked by as the dull surveillance continued.

That night, watching Zhang Yu head toward the subway station after school, Yue Jincheng blinked in surprise. “This guy usually runs home to save money. Why’s he taking the subway today?”

He followed him onto the train, hopping between lines.

As a Qi Refining Realm peak cultivator assigned to tail a suspect, Yue Jincheng had his own methods.

With his muscles shifting and twisting, aided by spare clothing in his backpack, he could subtly alter his appearance each time he got close to Zhang Yu.

After looping through the metro lines for a while, he followed Zhang Yu to a suburban station.

Seeing Zhang Yu dash off toward the distant outskirts, Yue Jincheng perked up.

“Finally making a move?”

“Time to earn my promotion.”

Just as he considered alerting Si Zhouyu, she messaged him first.

Bai Zhenzhen had also taken the subway—heading in the same direction.

Soon, they regrouped, excitement gleaming in their eyes as they tailed Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen deeper into the suburbs.

Half an hour later, they watched the pair buy tickets to enter a Protected-Zone Breeding Facility.

Yue Jincheng frowned. “Should we go in?”

Si Zhouyu replied, “Obviously. We need to see who they’re meeting.”

Yue Jincheng winced at the prices on the entrance fee list. “The company will reimburse this, right?”

“Of course,” said Si Zhouyu.

But she secretly added, “Eventually. Hopefully Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen make it worthwhile this time.”

Yet once they entered and located the two targets, they found both had donned oxygen masks.

“Wait… Were those in the packages they received at school?” Si Zhouyu muttered. “So they planned this.”

Watching the two calmly breathing through their masks, while they themselves gulped down the facility’s pricey air, Yue Jincheng suddenly had a very bad feeling.

“Please don’t stay here too long.”

But clearly, Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen had no plans to leave anytime soon.

As the minutes ticked by, Yue Jincheng and Si Zhouyu could only trail them helplessly—while watching their expense records rise with every breath, their hearts bleeding with each yuan.