No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

From the mouth of the Formless Spirit General, the Goldfilament Jade Disk fired a searing Solar Flame Mana beam, striking Ping Han’s head in an instant.

The next moment, the Formless Spirit General’s body of swirling sand turned like thousands of twisted steel rods, driven by surging Martial Qi from within, delivering a mighty palm toward Ping Han.

This strike didn’t just carry Zhang Yu’s own strength—it unleashed the full force of the Nine Heavens Cloudstride Force, releasing all twenty strikes’ worth of power Zhang Yu had built up in his clash with Ping Han in one explosive blow.

With the boost of the Martial Saint Body, the attack’s power was not only stacked but refined through subtle control, consolidating into a single devastating palm strike. The Formless Spirit General’s hand exploded forward with overwhelming force.

And just as the solar beam dissipated, Ping Han looked up—only to be met with that all-engulfing palm.

The terrifying palm force compressed the air itself, pressing against Ping Han’s face. A suffocating pressure surged in his chest, as if the air had solidified.

With a thunderous scream of tearing wind, the Formless Spirit General’s palm seemed poised to blast a hole through the very heavens.

Boom!

As Ping Han’s blade-formed Martial Qi collided with the Formless Spirit General’s strike, a shockwave erupted, blasting sand into the sky.

The Formless Spirit General’s arm instantly shattered, disintegrating into a cloud of dust.Ping Han, meanwhile, was sent flying like a bolt of black lightning, crashing hard into the earth.

Crackling impacts echoed as Ping Han smashed through battlefield craters, bouncing and breaking through layer after layer of soil.

On Zhang Yu’s side, his palm seals shifted, and with Small Threefold Harmony, he manipulated the sand once more, reassembling the Formless Spirit General’s shattered arm.

At the same time, three streaks of golden liquid armor—formed from three Taiyi Liquid Gold Pills—shot out and merged into the General’s body like molten metal, quickly spreading across its surface.

In the blink of an eye, the Formless Spirit General’s front was plated in gold armor.

But just as Zhang Yu completed this, the earth rumbled in the distance—Ping Han, who had just been smashed underground, burst out again like a black bolt of lightning.

Zhang Yu’s eyes scanned Ping Han’s still-pristine armor.

“Tough bastard,” he muttered to himself.

“Regular attacks clearly can’t crack that turtle shell.”

Zhang Yu had anticipated that Ping Han’s combat armor would be tough, but the sheer durability and resistance it displayed still caught him off guard.

“Money really does make you powerful.”

His ocular implants kept scanning the armor, analyzing its structure.

He knew this kind of armor was heavily reinforced—resistant to extreme heat, cold, impact, slashing, Martial Qi, and Dao Techniques alike.

Techniques like Magnetic Meridian-Severing Hand, which targeted Law Husks, wouldn’t work through such thick armor.

Zhang Yu thought grimly, I need a stronger, more precise attack.

Just then—clang!—Ping Han’s jade-green scythe of blade-formed Martial Qi clashed with the Formless Spirit General’s arm.

Ping Han sneered. “You think this big guy can stop me?”

Martial Qi burst from beneath his feet as he landed on the General’s arm and sprinted toward Zhang Yu along it.

Zhang Yu clasped his hands and growled, “Ping Han! You talk too damn much!”

With a chain of explosive cracks, the Formless Spirit General’s body rippled—multiple golden arms, wrapped in Taiyi Liquid Gold, surged outward like spears, shooting toward Ping Han.

Ping Han’s scythe spun like a storm, slicing through the golden palms one by one. It was like he was severing streams of golden floodwater, spraying molten energy everywhere.

“Too weak! Too weak! Too weak, Zhang Yu!”

The two of them clashed across the General’s arms, head, chest, and back in a chaotic dance of offense and evasion.

Ping Han let out a triumphant howl. “All that garbage you’re wearing—does it even add up to 100 spirit coins?”

“You call this a battle? On that kind of budget?”

The entire battlefield became Zhang Yu’s weapon, with golden palm prints raining down on Ping Han from every direction.

But Ping Han only laughed louder, shredding every palm print like a walking shredder, tearing the Formless Spirit General apart piece by piece.

Amid the rolling combat, Zhang Yu fought while repairing the General, sneering coldly: “You think the money you made flipping coins is really yours?”

Ping Han snorted. “I earned it with guts! With insight! With vision! Why wouldn’t it be mine?”

Zhang Yu wrapped his Martial Qi around Ping Han’s scythe, trying to disrupt his attacks.

“I might not be as rich as you,” he said, “but I can still beat you.”

Ping Han slashed again, roaring, “You think you can win while being poorer than me?”

“You’re f*cking dreaming!”

“The poor are meant to submit. To lose. You don’t stand a chance against this move—fueled by my savings!”

With a furious roar, Ping Han ignited with blinding brilliance, rising like a star in the sky.

“Humanity’s Torrent! Wash the world clean!”

From behind him erupted countless projections—charts of coin prices, trading data, bullish reports, the voices, messages, and war cries of countless crypto investors…

In an instant, every inch of the atmosphere was filled with data about Nectar Coins. Spectacular projections blazed across the battlefield like a flood of divine light ripping through the Spiritual Realm.

Each 0.1 second saw tens of thousands of shifts—countless stars flickering with financial data.

The overwhelming special effects of the Humanity’s Torrent caused audience members’ ocular implants to overload. Screens froze.

Even those with high-end implants felt their brains buckling under the data surge, unable to make out the battlefield anymore.

Inferior models like Fierce Tiger short-circuited, crashed, and rebooted.

“So… so rich! I can’t see anything anymore!”

“He’s so rich! Ping Han is insanely rich! I can’t even look at him from across the Spiritual Realm!”

“What terrifying pressure! I can’t even watch the battle anymore!”

At the center of the battlefield, Zhang Yu felt his vision dim, his mind overloaded by a flood of information in an instant.

As his figure slumped into the Formless Spirit General, Ping Han stepped forward and declared, “It’s over, Zhang Yu.”

The overwhelming pressure faded. The radiant projections dispersed. Ping Han’s spending stopped burning through his bank account.

His blade scythed downward, chopping the General’s body into pieces.

Boom. Both arms of the Formless Spirit General were severed, flying across the field.

“Zhang Yu, let me teach you something.”

“In this world, the poor don’t even count as people.”

His scythe flashed, breaking incoming palm prints and destroying half the General’s body.

“I broke and rebuilt myself nine times, climbed out of poverty into wealth—that’s the only reason I barely qualified as human.”

“You’ve got a long way to go.”

Boom!

The Formless Spirit General shattered completely, revealing Zhang Yu within.

By now, the audience’s implants had recovered. The air was filled with floating text projections.

“Bankrupt him! BANKRUPT HIM! Cut him down! Make him PAY!”

All the text coalesced into two giant characters: Bankruptcy.

Hatred flooded the arena, aimed at the one who dared short Nectar Coin—Zhang Yu.

Just as Ping Han raised his scythe to end it—

Zhang Yu brought his hands together and said calmly, “Ping Han, didn’t you want to know how I’d beat you?”

“This is the move that does it.”

In the next instant, all the broken pieces of the Formless Spirit General—scattered across the field—came alive, each surging with powerful Martial Qi.

Zhang Yu’s ocular implants flared as dozens of points lit up on Ping Han’s body.

These were weak points—painstakingly identified by Zhang Yu through the Appraisal Technique, after analyzing Ping Han’s armor and Law Husk structure.

The scattered fragments, empowered by Small Threefold Harmony and Formless Cloud Qi, transformed into a barrage of palm strikes from all directions.

The broken pieces had landed in strategic spots, leaving no blind angles—completely sealing Ping Han’s movement.

And within each palm strike was embedded the power from Ping Han’s previous twenty attacks—redirected against him.

Nine Heavens Cloudstride, Thousand Hands Saint Martial!

Under the combined onslaught of both Zhang Yu and Ping Han’s own power, Ping Han was crushed in an instant—blasted straight into the ground.