No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

On the battlefield, Gongshu Jin tore through the chaos with unyielding momentum, charging forward through blasts of thunder and flame without so much as a pause.

He carried Ying Xin on his left shoulder, Zhang Yu on his right, had Yu Xinghan clinging to his chest, and Li Xiao strapped to his back.

No matter how torn and bloodied they were, no matter how grievous their injuries—or even if they had stopped breathing entirely—he never considered setting them down.

Because he knew: survival on the battlefield depended on mutual reliance.

“In a crisis-ridden battlefield, Civil Engineering students are the best life-saving artifacts.”

“Thank you for protecting me.”

The Artifact Spirit gave a slight nod. “Calm and decisive, swift in action. Even amidst mortal danger, you displayed no panic whatsoever. That’s a level of willpower befitting your Dao Heart.”

“He can be recommended for next semester’s Spiritual Realm Competition.”

…

Zhang Yu strolled the streets, basking in the high of sudden riches.

With over a thousand spirit coins in his account, he didn’t splurge—he simply displayed his balance on his forehead, which immediately earned him waves of “friendships” and gift showers from all directions.

He dodged every scam that followed with composure and ease.

The Artifact Spirit recorded: “Even in the face of sudden wealth, his core remains stable. Self-control: excellent…”

Reviewing Zhang Yu’s scores, the Artifact Spirit commented flatly, “As expected, his Dao Heart surpasses even Gongshu Jin’s. He’s on par with Ji Yuanshu now.”

…

During the mana exam—

Students were being tested on their mana strength, mana quality, and their Qi conduction efficiency.

Each time numbers appeared, the crowd would erupt in gasps.

Li Mingbo, as the mana instructor, naturally reviewed the results with curiosity.

Through his EyeNet interface, he viewed all students sorted by social strata.

Predictably, students’ scores correlated with their floor level.

“Based on completed data: first is Ji Yuanshu from the sixth floor, second is Gongshu Jin from the fourth floor, third is Ying Xin, fourth…”

Suddenly, his gaze froze.

One name shot up the chart like a rocket, surpassing fourth-floor Gongshu Jin and landing right beside sixth-floor Ji Yuanshu.

“Zhang Yu.”

“From the first floor.”

Li Mingbo remembered that name. A kid who always sat in the last row with two other first-floor students.

“Last semester, he could barely keep up with Gongshu Jin in mana performance. This semester he’s matching Ji Yuanshu?”

Li Mingbo was visibly stunned. “A first-floor student caught up to someone from the sixth floor?”

…

During the physical strength exam—

In a storm of stunned gazes, two figures clashed like twin bolts of lightning. They weaved and dashed through a complex simulated battlefield, neither able to lose the other.

One of them was Zhang Yu.

His vital essence surged like molten magma. The War Demon Life-Draining Technique surged to its limit, giving him a full 1.5-level boost in physical stats—raising his body strength to a staggering 17.38.

Powered by this berserk force, he moved faster than ever before. Even wearing a full suit of Grade-20 Spiritsteel felt featherlight.

At the same time, he multitasked: maneuvering his body while directing several Formless Golems. With assistance from Three-Eyed Divine Sight and Time-Wrecking Demon Pupil, he blocked every attack from the simulation arena.

Yet despite all that, he still couldn’t catch up to Ji Yuanshu.

“Damn… he’s fast.”

“He’s loaded with too many acceleration-type Law Husks.”

“Looks like this round, I still can’t beat him.”

But Zhang Yu didn’t mind. Speed had never been his forte. His current agility was brute-forced purely by stats—by sheer, hard-earned base values.

He thought to himself, “Victory’ll come during the Construction Exam. I’ve spent the whole semester refining my fieldwork. That’s my edge.”

He’d already looked into it: the Civil Engineering Department’s final exam was the hardest one of the year—also the one with the highest weight toward final ranking.

Meanwhile, behind Zhang Yu and Ji Yuanshu, Gongshu Jin tore through the air, Qi streaming across his streamlined frame.

Even with all four of his Law Husks swapped for movement-boosting gear, he could only watch as the other two pulled further and further ahead. He couldn’t even see their ranking indicators anymore.

His eyes were full of frustration. “No way… How is the gap even bigger now?!”

He’d maxed out loans, burned spirit coins, and customized Law Husk sets for mana cultivation, physical training, and each specific exam.

He’d scheduled his entire semester down to the second, wasting not a single moment.

“Why?! Why can’t I catch up?!”

“How much did they spend?!”

…

As the exams rolled on, Ji Yuanshu and Zhang Yu became the twin poles of attention within the class.

Each round of the test—every instance where Zhang Yu caught up to Ji Yuanshu, or ran just behind—drove home one truth: the fight for freshman valedictorian came down to these two.

From what most could see…

Ying Xin offered her take: “Ji Yuanshu likely has the edge.”

“He had a 27-point lead over Zhang Yu at the end of last semester.”

“Even if the gap isn’t growing much this time, it’s still hard for Zhang Yu to pull ahead.”

Yu Xinghan glanced at the speed trial where Zhang Yu once again failed to surpass Ji Yuanshu and exhaled in relief. “Thank goodness. Zhang Yu didn’t overtake him.”

“Scared the crap outta me—I thought he might really take first.”

Yu Xinghan couldn’t even imagine what it’d feel like if Zhang Yu defeated Ji Yuanshu and left him even further behind.

That would hurt more than watching a buddy activate the Time-Wrecking Demon Pupil.

Meanwhile, the teachers—who had access to backend data—had a clearer view of the scoreboard.

Tu Lishan watched each event’s score roll in, tracking both students’ composite stats.

He muttered to himself while calculating, “Unbelievable. Zhang Yu’s base stats are already nearly even with Ji Yuanshu?”

“Utterly absurd.”

But then again, considering the number of pills Zhang Yu took this semester, it was a miracle he was still alive.

“His physique’s even tougher than he claimed. Definitely worth special training.”

“Shame though—if he were from a higher stratum, even second floor, he might’ve overtaken Ji Yuanshu in this exam.”

And what Tu Lishan observed, Ji Yuanshu also sensed.

He glanced at the Fate Monitoring panel. His projected win rate kept rising—making him feel the title of class valedictorian was already within reach.

But to him, beating Zhang Yu was expected.

After all, the Fate Monitor always showed Zhang Yu’s odds of winning as pathetically low.

What mattered wasn’t whether he won—but whether he should invest more now.

He still hadn’t hit the 100-point lead his master demanded.

“Others fear, I get greedy.”

Remembering the Finance Department’s golden motto, Ji Yuanshu made up his mind.

“This is the moment—when Zhang Yu, Gongshu Jin, and the rest of the class are cowed by my sheer dominance.”

He knew how rare Fate Points were, especially for freshmen like himself.

“This is the time to solidify momentum. Use that momentum to gather Fate, boost my position as class first, and lay groundwork for future Dao Techniques.”

“And if I boost my power further—even if I don’t clear 100 points, every extra bit counts.”

He immediately @ed both Zhang Yu and Gongshu Jin in the class group chat:

Ji Yuanshu: “Gentlemen, in the final exams—use your full strength. I’d like to enjoy this to the fullest.”

The moment he posted that message, strands of Fate trickled in from all directions.

Every single classmate’s belief in his victory fed into it.

After today’s endless string of exams, he was like a general with a flawless war record. With each victory, he anchored the concept of “inevitability” in their hearts.

That’s how you gather hearts. That’s how you accumulate Fate.

Within his Sea of Consciousness, a copper-coin Artifact gently vibrated, suppressing and absorbing the Fate that poured in—converting it into buffs across his entire stat panel.

“The Dao of Fate,” he murmured, “is about riding momentum…”

“Then stoking that momentum through spectacle, pressure, hype—and directing the masses.”

“Use cultivation to build momentum; let momentum feed back into cultivation.”

“In a closed loop of power and perception—until eventually…”

“You become the momentum itself.”

And Ji Yuanshu believed that in this moment—seizing class first—he had already become unstoppable.

As for backlash from a Fate collapse?

He didn’t consider it possible.

Because up until the last exam, he still led Zhang Yu and Gongshu Jin in composite score.

“They have no chance left.”

“In the final event—I’ll get even more points.”

…

Inside the Simulation Worksite—

All Foundation students assembled for the last test of the day.

Tu Lishan stood before them and announced, “To better simulate real-world conditions and fairly test practical abilities, we’ve reformed the exams since last year.”

“Today, all Civil Engineering practical exams are merged into one—testing blueprint interpretation, materials knowledge, construction surveying… and your full-field building capabilities.”

“Because practical skills are what matter most in our department.”

“Today is the moment of truth. Let’s see what you’ve learned this year.”

With that, the students’ EyeNets received sets of blueprints.

Tu Lishan pointed to the left side of the simulated site. “To your left is the full list of available building materials.”

“You’ll have thirty minutes to select and transport what you need.”

“To your right are your assigned construction zones.”

“After the thirty minutes, you may no longer leave your zone.”

“Then, you’ll have three hours to build based on your blueprint.”

“After three hours—stop construction, no exceptions.”

“Your projects will be scored based on completion percentage.”

“Then, they’ll be subjected to ten waves of simulated damage.”

“Your structure’s performance during those ten waves will determine your final exam score.”