No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

“My future plans?”

Zhang Yu’s mind flashed with a thousand thoughts the moment Director Gao posed the question. After a brief pause, he answered, “I want to compete in the Ten Sect Tournament.”

That answer made not just Tu Lishan freeze for a second—Director Gao, too, was visibly surprised.

He had anticipated several possible responses from Zhang Yu—straightforward ambitions like making money, staying on the team, or pledging loyalty to Wanfa University.

But this? This, he hadn’t expected.

In that moment, Director Gao’s gaze took on a more thoughtful depth as he mused inwardly, This kid… he’s even more ambitious than I thought.

But Gao had never been afraid of students with ambition or desire. In fact, the more driven and ambitious they were, the more likely they were to stand out.

Otherwise, if you’ve got no ambition or desire—why cultivate immortality at all? Just be a mundane mortal and spend your life idling away.

Until now, he had seen Zhang Yu as just another student gambling with his life to scrape a future together. But upon hearing this plan, he couldn’t help but regard the boy a little more seriously.

Studying Zhang Yu, Director Gao said flatly, “To compete, you’ll need to be among the top of your entire department. Right now, you’re far from it.”

“I’ll do everything I can to get there,” Zhang Yu replied calmly.

The unshaken resolve in Zhang Yu’s eyes, even under Director Gao’s penetrating scrutiny, made the latter smile faintly. Zhang Yu was turning out to be more interesting—and more promising—than he’d expected.

“Fine. Don’t say I never gave you a chance,” Director Gao said evenly. “From now on, every semester, you’ll need to join at least one construction site project. It’s both for the department and for your own training.”

“But which project you choose, that’s up to you.”

As he spoke, a series of Civil Engineering Department projects appeared as spiritual projections within Zhang Yu’s EyeNet feed.

There were battlefield fortification builds, renovations of deep-mountain graveyards, upgrades to spiritual-network data centers, expansions to the Pleasure and Harmony University amusement park, and even the construction of a flying sword laboratory…

Looking at the list, Zhang Yu’s mind began spinning with possibilities. His gaze locked onto one project as his heart surged. That’s actually an option? I have to go!

But not yet, he thought. I’ll wait until I’ve recovered my physical deficits—then I’ll go to that site and freeload properly.

Director Gao continued, “Of course, we won’t have you working for free.”

“In addition to wages, you’ll get medicinal discounts. From now on, you can buy discounted medicine directly from the Pharmacology Department.”

“Some experimental drugs that aren’t sold on the market will also gradually become available to you.”

As he spoke, a file containing a medication purchase list and contact details for the Pharmacology Department appeared in Zhang Yu’s EyeNet inbox.

Director Gao paused slightly, as if weighing his next words, then added, “Starting today, this student suite on the 318th floor is temporarily yours.”

Details about the 318th-floor suite—its address, current state, and access permissions—were transmitted to Zhang Yu.

It was a 15-square-meter upper-level suite with a living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. With a 6-meter ceiling, it came with ample spiritual energy and data supply each month. The dormitory level also offered laundry, cleaning, training rooms, and lab facilities—all pay-per-use.

Director Gao added, “I’ve also granted you access to the anti-gravity transit corridor. You can use it freely now.”

Zhang Yu knew the central anti-gravity corridor was a high-speed vertical transit system spanning all of Wanfa University City. It could get you to any floor in seconds.

The new suite and the transit pass would clearly make his life and cultivation far more convenient, saving him a ton of time.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Director Gao had one final offer.

“If you manage to become the top student in your freshman class this semester,” he said, “I’ll take you as my registered disciple.”

Tu Lishan was stunned. Wait… Director Gao never said anything about that before. Was this spontaneous?

A Nascent Soul cultivator’s disciple—even just a registered one—was a dream countless students yearned for.

In Tu Lishan’s eyes, with all these benefits and opportunities suddenly laid out, how could Zhang Yu not be driven to cultivate like his life depended on it?

But the very next moment, Tu Lishan’s internal alarm bells rang. No, something’s off. Director Gao probably doesn’t expect Zhang Yu to actually beat Ji Yuanshu and take first place.

He’s just dangling the bait—that disciple offer—as motivation, to keep Zhang Yu pushing forward without rest.

Still, the fact that Director Gao would even paint such a vision for Zhang Yu proved how highly he regarded him. Most students wouldn’t even get a chance to be “strung along.”

Watching Zhang Yu’s shifting expressions, Director Gao gave him a pat on the shoulder and smiled. “Don’t get too worked up. If I’ve promised you something, I’ll make it happen. All you need to do is give it your all.”

But in Zhang Yu’s heart, another concern surfaced: Shit… if I do too well in Civil Engineering, will they block my transfer to the Artifact Refinement Department later? What if they force me to take him as my master? I don’t want to spend my whole life on construction sites!

Looking at Director Gao’s smile, Zhang Yu asked one last thing. “Can I live in the new suite with my current roommates?”

That was a trivial matter to Director Gao. He replied casually, “It’s your suite now. Do as you please.”

Leaving the Civil Engineering building, Zhang Yu suddenly realized—this entire agreement hadn’t involved any contract signing at all.

Fu Ji giggled. “To someone like that, signing a contract… that’d just be a shackle. Without one, he has all the means to hold you to your word. But if he chooses not to uphold his end, you’ve got nothing on him.”

Zhang Yu took a deep breath. I have to keep climbing—get stronger, get richer. There’s no turning back now.

He sent news of the new suite to his dorm group chat.

Yu Xinghan: Fifteen-square-meter luxury suite?!

Le Mulan: Way closer to the classrooms!

Zhang Pianpian: This upper-level suite includes a ton of monthly data, too.

That very night, Zhang Yu moved into the 318th-floor suite along with Yu Xinghan, Le Mulan, and Zhang Pianpian.

From five square meters to fifteen, the difference was night and day. Standing in the new place, Zhang Yu felt his muscles could finally relax, his limbs at last able to stretch out a bit.

He forwarded the discounted medicine list to Le Mulan. “Can you check which ones are a good deal—and which ones would suit me?”

Just then, someone tagged him in the Foundation Class group chat.

Ji Yuanshu?

…

Wanfa University City.

Inside a 100-square-meter suite on the 450th floor.

Ji Yuanshu’s consciousness returned from the depths of the Spiritual Realm, wrapping up a one-on-one finance course.

Though officially a Civil Engineering student this semester, Ji Yuanshu had paid little mind to its core curriculum. His real focus had been on finance.

After all, by design, Civil Engineering was just a temporary stop. The Finance Department was where his true future lay.

And it was the finance prodigies—not his Civil Engineering peers—who would be his real rivals going forward.

As long as he kept the top spot in his class secure, the rest of his attention was better spent preparing for the financial battleground ahead.

At that moment, a message popped up in his EyeNet—it was from his mentor, Vice Director Lin of the Civil Engineering Department.

Director Lin: What’s going on? You’re only 26 points ahead of second place this time?

Sensing the frustration in his mentor’s words, Ji Yuanshu quickly replied: Spent a lot of time on Finance Department coursework.

Director Lin: So what—you’re telling me studying finance made your grades worse than just studying civil engineering?

Director Lin: Is that what I told you to do?

Ji Yuanshu didn’t respond directly. Instead, his mind drifted to something his mentor once told him.

“Yuanshu, Civil Engineering… is like scraping leftovers out of a muddy pit.”

“If you’re just doing construction work without tapping into finance, you’ll spend your whole life eating dirt.”

“Even if you cash in during university wars, all you’ll get is scraps.”

“Only by harnessing destiny, backed by the momentum of mankind itself, can you reach even higher.”

The memory flickered by.

Then another message came.

Director Lin: This year, I don’t care what year they’re in. We crush them. Drive their stock value into the ground.

Director Lin: Use everything you’ve learned in finance.

Director Lin: I want you ahead of second place by at least 100 points in the final freshman ranking.

Ji Yuanshu didn’t refuse.

He understood that in the internal power struggle within the Civil Engineering Department, he was but a piece on the board. He had no right to decline.

Besides—he believed he could do it.

“I’ve already grasped the basics of destiny-based techniques from the Finance Department.”

“In that case, time to test them out.”

He glanced at the current class rankings. With a tap of his finger, the Finance Department’s destiny-divination service bloomed in his EyeNet.

Zhang Yu and Gongshu Jin’s rankings, grades, spending records, debt history, work hours, class performance, health reports, addresses, income, and savings—all appeared at once.

Next came predictions on their interests, personalities, potential, lifespan—every metric laid bare.

Ji Yuanshu murmured, “Based on the final destiny forecast, neither of them stand a chance against me.”

Then the rest of the class’s data rolled in, aiding his analysis of each one’s trajectory.

“To the vast majority of people, victory is already mine.”

“Public sentiment and the tides of fate are in my hands.”

Having confirmed the grand trend, Ji Yuanshu knew his next step: guide the masses, and harness their destiny.