No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Though the arena looked empty, the Spiritual Realm and livestreams had gathered a torrent of spectators’ thoughts from all corners.

Su Yanyang was watching too, murmuring to himself, “A clash between the twin prodigies of the Coin Dao—this’ll come down to who has more money. One way or another, it’ll drive another buying spree of Nectar Coins.”

He then glanced at Ji Yuanshu standing beside Ping Han and thought, “No wonder he wants to transfer into the finance department. That guy’s got a serious gambling streak.”

Just then, Su Yanyang heard the exchange between Zhang Yu and Ping Han. Zhang Yu once again denied trading Nectar Coins, which made Su Yanyang squint in suspicion.

“Is he telling the truth, or just bluffing?”

Behind Ping Han, Ji Yuanshu and the other four teammates stood in a cluster.

Watching Ping Han square off against Zhang Yu, Ji Yuanshu had actually considered quitting the team back when Ping Han joined.

But he quickly came to a realization: “It doesn’t matter who wins this match.”

“Both sides bought Nectar Coins. No matter who wins, the hype around Nectar Coins at Wanfa University is going to explode.”

Once he understood that, the first thing Ji Yuanshu did was throw in his last remaining assets, leveraging Nectar Coins at 100× margin.He’d burned through his final reserves of immortal potential—he couldn’t even afford a sub spot on any other team now.

“Doesn’t matter. As long as Nectar Coins pump hard this round, I can claw back my composite score slowly.”

“After all, there’s a tournament every year. But chances to make money like this? Not so common.”

He wasn’t alone in that mindset. Dozens—maybe hundreds—felt the same. Until Zhang Yu and Ping Han began speaking…

Zhang Yu had been frustrated by the swirling rumors for days.

“Who the hell started saying I’m trading Nectar Coins? That I went 100× leverage?”

Thinking of Director Gao’s request, Zhang Yu simply raised his voice and shouted:

“Nectar Coin’s value is unstable. It relies too much on market confidence and is overly concentrated in the hands of Pleasure and Harmony University—it’s easily manipulated.”

“This kind of high-risk investment? I wouldn’t touch it.”

“Ping Han, if you’ve made some money, I suggest you cash out now. Don’t go bankrupt again.”

“Nectar Coin’s been rising for too long. The risk is only growing.”

Even before Ping Han could answer, the Spiritual Realm had exploded.

Someone instantly paid to project scrolling comments above Zhang Yu’s head:

“You didn’t warn us when Nectar Coin was bouncing all over for years, and now that we’re finally profiting, you show up screaming risk?”

“If you’re not trading coins, then shut up! Don’t talk out of your ass in fields you don’t understand!”

“This guy actually got a Military License? Wanfa University should be ashamed!”

“Seven Sentiments Coin flew to the heavens and no one said a word, but now that Nectar Coin has just started climbing, suddenly it’s a threat?”

“Zhang Yu, dare you show your positions?”

A moment ago, the viewers had been chuckling and chatting. Now the Spiritual Realm had become a typhoon of fury, hatred gathering toward Zhang Yu like a swarm of knives.

He glanced up at the hateful projections floating above his head, then at the blizzard of messages in his EyeNet feed, and simply shook his head.

Fu Ji laughed. “You’re hitting the brakes during a bull run—of course they’ll tear into you.”

Zhang Yu replied, “Doesn’t matter. Director Gao told me to give a warning, so I did. They can scream all they want—it doesn’t hurt me.”

By contrast, the moment Ping Han raised a hand, the attacks in the Spiritual Realm quieted dramatically.

Pointing one finger at the chart projected above, and another at the live price on his chestplate, Ping Han announced:

“While Zhang Yu was flapping his gums, our Nectar Coin just rose another 0.01 spirit coin.”

Cheers roared through the Spiritual Realm like thunder.

Ping Han spread his arms, embracing the empty air with supreme confidence:

“When Nectar Coin was at 0.1 spirit coins, people didn’t believe it would rise.”

“At 1 spirit coin, they said it was about to crash.”

“At 10 spirit coins, I had people telling me it was time to cash out.”

“But they were all wrong.”

“We’ve been winning, and we’ll keep on winning!”

As he spoke, the projection showing how to join his investor guidance group lit up behind him.

The cheers in the Spiritual Realm grew deafening.

Floating above Ping Han’s head, the viewer-funded projections surged forth:

“Nectar Coin to 10,000!”

“Go Ping Han! Beat that doom-caller into the dirt!”

“I want to see Zhang Yu on his knees!”

In a heartbeat, the tide had turned—support for Ping Han was as fervent as the hatred for Zhang Yu.

Soon, the verbal assaults aimed at Zhang Yu were spilling over onto his entire team.

Che Yufei, Shi Yunxiang, and the rest all watched their EyeNet feeds light up like a stormfront.

At that moment, every player felt the crowd’s anger crashing down on them.

Shi Yunxiang felt his scalp tingle. “Why’d Zhang Yu have to poke the hornet’s nest…”

Yu Xinghan swept through the message flood, narrowing his eyes. “There’s a lot of bot activity in here.”

Just then, the referee gave the signal. Both teams—previously waiting by the entrance—entered the arena.

To save costs amid the escalating intensity of matches, what used to be split into halves was now compressed into a single round.

Construction and combat began simultaneously. Victory would be determined by who built the better structure.

The moment they reached the site, Ping Han turned to Ji Yuanshu and the others and said:

“The five of you stay here and handle the building. Leave the rest to me.”

Without waiting for their reaction, he vanished in a flash and launched himself toward Zhang Yu like a meteor.

Ping Han had zero interest in teamwork. What he wanted was a one-man rout—beating Zhang Yu down, and dragging his teammates with him.

He wanted the experts, professors, and school board members to see with their own eyes: he was the one who deserved this year’s Military License for Civil Engineering.

Meanwhile, watching the group join messages flood into his investor chat, he knew this was a golden moment to promote himself and his guidance group.

“Thanks, Zhang Yu, for trashing Nectar Coin.”

“In the face of overwhelming momentum, your criticisms only add fuel to the fire—to Nectar Coin’s rise, and to mine.”

Ji Yuanshu, watching Ping Han’s departing back, could feel the spiritual tide rolling in—thick with the crowd’s support.

He marveled silently, “Just being on Ping Han’s team, I’m already soaking up a ton of fortune. If I were a true finance prodigy… or someone like Divine Lord Nectar, how much spiritual fortune would I gain every second?”

…

When Ping Han reached the center, Zhang Yu was already standing there alone.

Ping Han sneered, “Just you?”

Zhang Yu replied calmly, “Just me is enough.”

Zhang Yu understood—this was Director Gao’s intention too.

If he needed help from teammates to defeat Ping Han, what would that say about the value of his Military License?

And judging by Ping Han’s behavior, he was thinking the exact same thing.

Ping Han raised his voice for the livestream:

“Zhang Yu! They say you won the Military License exam because you killed more targets than me!”

“Well today, I’m not going to compare construction—we’ll see who can fight better!”

With that, he clapped his hands together and slammed one palm forward.

The ground erupted like a tsunami, a flood of soil surging toward Zhang Yu.

Zhang Yu’s hands shifted, responding with Small Threefold Harmony.

With a single downward strike, the onrushing tide of sand seemed to be slapped by an invisible giant. With a thunderous boom, it exploded upward, showering the arena in a storm of dust and debris.

Their clash began with a duel of Small Threefold Harmony techniques.

The earth quaked. Sand flew. Thunder echoed. At the center, it felt like two colossi were brawling, unleashing endless sandstorms and turning the battlefield into a chaos of dust and fury.

“Excellent!”

Ping Han’s voice roared through the haze as he blasted it aside.

“Not bad. I didn’t spend all that money for nothing.”

“Worth every coin.”

From the sand, beams of light pierced outward—metallic gleams streaking through the air and snapping into place on Ping Han’s body.

With a crackle and a flash, armor latched onto him like living metal.

“Armor?” Zhang Yu’s eyes narrowed. He recognized it.

Armor had existed for ages, but even in Kunxu, it was rarely seen.

It was a specialized combat artifact—too narrow in use, and irrelevant to most of Kunxu’s populace.

Ping Han’s voice rang out coldly. “Correct. This Abyssal Sky Armor was custom-made for this battle.”

Now fully encased, he stood like a titan clad in black plating. Constellation-like lights traced along the armor, aligning with his thirty-six meridian channels. With every pulse of mana inside him, the armor vented gales of martial qi.

Between its joints, sinews like dragon tendons flickered, radiating a steady heat and pressure.

Zhang Yu understood what he was seeing: a larger frame, heavier build—yes—but also deeper mana reserves, modular functions, and raw combat output that ordinary Law Husks could never match.

Ping Han exhaled. Heat waves rolled outward, warming the air around him.

Meanwhile, the price chart and projections that had hovered around Ping Han’s body were now displayed directly on the armor’s surface.

When the price—16.88—lit up once again on his chest, the crowd in the Spiritual Realm erupted into cheers.

“Zhang Yu,” Ping Han said with a cold grin, “money guides the Immortal Path. If you won’t trade coins, your ability to profit is naturally inferior—and that means your immortal potential is capped.”

“So what makes you think you can fight me?”