No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

The underground mausoleum operated as a major mana production facility, with corpses constantly moving in and out.

As the corpses aged and became unusable during the mana extraction process, how to dispose of them became an important issue.

Zhang Pianpian explained, “The ones with some residual value are used for blind box draws or sold on the secondhand organ market. That’s one outlet.”

“The rest, those that are completely degraded and have no further value, are ground into bone powder and sold as waste.”

“Bone powder gets used in making Law Husks, casting Dao Techniques, or laying down Arrays.”

“Some people even buy it for calcium supplements—it’s cheaper than medicine...”

She picked up a brick of flour from the ground and added, “Perfect. We’ll just move this flour out as bone powder.”

A short while later, Yu Xinghan and Le Mulan stayed behind to tidy and stage the scene under Zhang Pianpian’s direction.

Zhang Yu slung a large crate of flour over his back and prepared to leave the hideout.

But before departing, he watched a video feed in his EyeNet, showing a man whose muscular contours he gradually mimicked until his appearance fully matched.

This was the disguise Zhang Pianpian had chosen for him—a transport worker who regularly handled bone powder deliveries at Huolongyuan Mana Production Co., Ltd.

For Zhang Yu, changing appearances was no challenge.

Back in his freshman year, he’d already mastered controlling his muscles to alter his facial structure. With further training under Xinghuo Zhenren, he could now mimic another person’s appearance in seconds.

Meanwhile, Zhang Pianpian activated another sigil for him.

Concealment Sigil—Activate!

This time, the Concealment Sigil she used was far more powerful than before.

As her palm passed slowly over Zhang Yu’s body, his data in others’ EyeNet displays—including name, background, and ratings—all morphed into that of the transport worker.

“This sigil will hold for around ten minutes,” Zhang Pianpian instructed. “Make the most of it.”

Carrying the crate of flour, Zhang Yu stepped out of the hideout, more nervous than he had been during the gang fight earlier.

He drew a deep breath and focused on the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique in his mind. As echoes of a white ox’s roar rang in his ears, his anxiety gradually faded.

His journey went smoothly—until he reached the front gate, where a security guard called out, “What are you carrying?”

Zhang Yu turned and instantly stiffened. The one questioning him was none other than Sheng Jie from Xiandu.

They had last crossed paths on the top-level construction site.

“Is he rotating shifts here now?” Zhang Yu wondered, surprised but keeping a calm expression.

“Bone powder,” he answered flatly.

As a cemetery guard, Sheng Jie carried an innate sense of authority. Looking at the bone powder transporter before him, he asked haughtily, “What’s it for?”

“Selling it for calcium supplements,” Zhang Yu replied.

Sheng Jie nodded. “Open it up. Let me see.”

Zhang Yu lowered the crate and opened it in front of him.

“Is this really bone powder?” Sheng Jie frowned. “Not smuggling flour, are you?”

Without waiting, he plunged a hand into the powder. “I’ll have to taste it.”

Zhang Yu held his breath as Sheng Jie scooped up a fistful and swallowed it.

He licked his lips, then frowned. “This taste… pig demon?”

Then he laughed. “Good selection.”

“Go on.”

Zhang Yu exhaled quietly, recalling Zhang Pianpian’s earlier warning:

“According to my intel, the guards at the cemetery gates are used to freeloading. Every shipment of bone powder gets tasted.”

Luckily, Zhang Pianpian had anticipated this and layered real bone powder on top for inspection.

After leaving Huolongyuan, Zhang Yu encountered no further obstacles.

Following Zhang Pianpian’s directions, he reached a room on the 45th floor and dropped off the crate of flour.

Looking around at the empty room, he thought, “So this is the stash my sister secured in advance?”

He then returned via the underground path and regrouped with Zhang Pianpian and the others.

By this point, the operation was nearly complete.

Zhang Pianpian explained, “The flour’s out, but it won’t be liquidated right away.”

“Once things settle down, I’ll find a way to offload it.”

“Finding buyers and laundering the funds will take time. Expect it to be two to three months before the money hits your accounts.”

Yu Xinghan and Le Mulan nodded in understanding, already daydreaming of their payday.

Seeing their excitement, Zhang Pianpian reminded them, “No one outside can know about this.”

“So keep your cool. No smug smiles. Don’t mention it even in private.”

“And avoid any large, unplanned expenses. Stay frugal. Act like nothing happened.”

Soon after, at Zhang Pianpian’s signal, a patrol team arrived.

The officer in charge saw the piles of flour bricks and the rich fields of Earth Qi Wheat in the grow room and was thrilled, showering Zhang Pianpian with praise.

Zhang Yu, Yu Xinghan, and Le Mulan were hailed as heroic citizens and taken in for questioning.

With Zhang Pianpian smoothing things over—and the patrol eager to wrap up and claim credit—the follow-up was clean and painless. After a brief commendation, the three were released.

Before they left, the patrol promised each of them a one–Spirit Coin reward, to be credited in a few days.

Back at the dorm, the trio finally let themselves relax.

They shared a glance—and burst out laughing.

Yu Xinghan thought, “Ninety Spirit Coin… damn. I’d have to go years without food or sleep to earn that much normally.”

“Even if it’s split four ways, it’s still huge.”

“Fortunes come from windfalls, not wages.”

Le Mulan mused, “With this money, I should have a strong rank when I transfer to the Foundation Establishment Class next semester.”

Meanwhile, Zhang Yu was already browsing gear on an EyeNet storefront. “What should I spend the Spirit Coin on?”

Thanks to Wang Yin’s earlier support, he still had 26 Spirit Coin saved up.

Add the flour profits due in 2–3 months, and he could be looking at 40–50 Spirit Coin total.

But even so, he sighed, “No matter how risky the hustle, scams still make more money. And even that doesn’t beat the pocket change of a rich kid like Wang Yin.”

He found himself missing Director Wang—and the ease of streaming.

“No matter how hard the poor grind, it doesn’t match what the rich make legally.”

Fu Ji chimed in at his lament. “Of course not. Robbery is bottom-tier. It doesn’t hold a candle to fraud. You think slinging flour’s lucrative? Scams blow it out of the water. Why else would gangs focus on scamming?”

“Fraud is the fast lane on the Immortal Path. Once I’ve rebuilt more power, we’ll start our own cons. You’ll see what real money looks like.”

“And between you and me—if it weren’t so convenient and if Zhang Pianpian weren’t covering us, I’d never have let you take this job.”

Zhang Yu shook his head. He had a feeling Fu Ji was scamming him right now.

Still, he put that aside and returned to planning how to spend his Spirit Coin.

With such a hefty windfall coming, he dared to dream about things he’d never considered before.

Like the Spirit-Flesh Fusion Journey at Heartforge Pavilion—30 Spirit Coin, guaranteed results or your money back.

That technique allowed one to maintain technique circulation even when unconscious—keeping a sliver of spirit alight in the Sea of Consciousness.

It was the prerequisite for cultivating a Secondary Heart Technique after reaching level 15 Dao Heart.

As Teacher Feng Jiu had said, Spirit-Flesh Fusion required relentless practice—or a shortcut like Heartforge Pavilion’s course.

Zhang Yu’s Dao Heart level was nearing 15, and he had originally expected to grind through it on his own.

Some Foundation Establishment students didn’t reach this stage until level 20.

“If I can spend Spirit Coin to shortcut it, I will.”

Still, it was a 30-Spirit Coin splurge, and he didn’t have that much yet.

So for now, Zhang Yu planned to try breaking through on his own. “If I still haven’t fused by the time the Spirit Coin comes in, I’ll make a trip to Heartforge Pavilion.”

That night, the three stayed in their dorm, deliberately avoiding extra shifts or side gigs.

They remembered Zhang Pianpian’s warning—not to draw attention.

By dawn, they had all adjusted their emotions. No more signs of elation.

When Zhang Pianpian returned to the dorm, Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up as he glanced at her chest.

Noticing his look, she sighed. “Thanks to your sharp eyes at the construction site—and my own groundwork—I’ll probably be promoted to deputy squad leader next month.”

“You might not realize it, but this means a lot to me.”

Zhang Yu smiled. “You’ve done so much for me. I’m truly happy I could return the favor.”

But his real focus was on the Dao Seed glowing faintly on her chest.

In the past, he’d occasionally sensed her Dao Seed, but only fleetingly and unclearly.

He’d been able to make out that it was called the Supreme Talisman—but knew nothing about how to activate it or what it did.

Now, though, maybe because of the mission, or their deepening bond… he could feel it clearly, just like with Yu Xinghan and Le Mulan.

When he focused on it, he began to receive a strange, wordless flow of insight.

That insight gradually coalesced into something understandable.

“To activate the Supreme Talisman… it requires 50 Spirit Coin?”

Zhang Yu stared at her blankly. That requirement was both absurdly easy and impossibly hard—trivial for the rich, yet crushing for the poor.

Noticing his stare, Zhang Pianpian asked, “What is it?”

Zhang Yu asked, “Jie… Senior Sister, are you short on money?”