No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Spiritual Realm.

Inside the Artifact Refinement Department’s classroom.

Unlike the Civil Engineering Department, many of the Artifact Refinement Department’s courses were accelerated within the Spiritual Realm classrooms.

This allowed students to learn far more efficiently—but it also meant paying far higher tuition fees.

Of course, for those capable of studying in the Artifact Refinement Department, tuition was the least of their expenses.

That day’s Mana Conduction class had just ended when Zhang Yu stood up inside the Spiritual Realm classroom and walked toward the instructor.

The instructor for this course was Realman Jiujian. A graduate of Wanfa University’s Artifact Refinement doctoral program who had successfully remained as faculty, he was just past fifty and already considered remarkably accomplished for his age.

Like most teachers and students in the Artifact Refinement Department, Realman Jiujian judged people first by their Law Husks.

After all, on the path of artifact refinement, wealth was everything. To him, wealth was the most essential indicator of talent.

And for students of the department, the best way to gauge someone’s wealth was to look at their Law Husk.To make his job easier, he noted every student’s details and had them displayed through his ocular husks—allowing him to manage his students more efficiently in both the real and spiritual worlds.

For instance, the students before him now.

The class’s top student, Su Yunni, was fully equipped with the premium model of Myriad Artisans Sect’s products. In Realman Jiujian’s eyes, her body gleamed faint purple—a sign of a small elite. Whether for lab chores or company projects, such a student was a reliable workhorse—valuable and efficient.

Then there was Ziyun Zhen, ranked fourth in class, whose Law Husk was also from Myriad Artisans Sect but all standard editions. In Realman Jiujian’s view, she shone faint blue—mediocre, but diligent and suitable for the dirtiest, riskiest jobs.

Students who secretly used a few secondhand or mid-range components were rare in a single class.

To Realman Jiujian, they appeared green—a category he saw as consumables. Their main contribution to the refinement industry was the tuition and purchases they made before inevitably failing out.

As for those with entirely low-end Law Husks—or none at all aside from their ocular husks—such people could only be found outside the Artifact Refinement Department.

They appeared in his sight as dark gray or black. The cheaper their total Law Husk value, the darker they looked.

The university city was full of such people, and their numbers only grew with every passing year, driving their value ever lower.

In Realman Jiujian’s eyes, these blackened figures were little better than ambulatory garbage—the only difference being that dumping them in a landfill would incur a fine.

Sometimes, he even admitted that Netherworld University handled this better: they regularly “cleaned up” low-end populations in the city, preventing the garbage from wandering loose.

It was like pouring disinfectant into a river—keeping the “human price index” stable so the poor didn’t become too cheap, allowing them to live with a veneer of dignity.

At that moment, as Zhang Yu approached, a large mass of shadowy gray appeared in Jiujian’s eyes.

“Zhang Yu?”

The teacher’s mind instantly recalled the name—a transfer student from the Civil Engineering Department, whose only Law Husk was a four-year-old ocular pair. Yet despite that, Zhang Yu had made a strong impression.

By Jiujian’s classification standards, Zhang Yu should have been garbage.

But by the Artifact Refinement Department’s logic—and judging from his grades—he was very much human.

Thus, Zhang Yu became an anomaly, a mysterious species in Jiujian’s mental taxonomy.

Zhang Yu said, “Teacher, I’d like to request a leave of absence.”

Jiujian raised a brow. “Why?”

“I plan to build a prototype of the Heaven-Sun Radiance Divine Machine. I’ll need time in the lab to study and accumulate the necessary technical knowledge.”

Zhang Yu genuinely didn’t want to waste time attending more classes. He had long since mastered the material—both theoretically and through practice.

And building the Heaven-Sun Radiance prototype was indeed his next goal. It was, in his mind, the perfect excuse—just like Civil Engineering students requesting leave to gain on-site experience.

Jiujian frowned. “You want to make the Heaven-Sun Radiance prototype? Ambition is good, but artifact refinement requires steady progress. Mana Conduction is foundational—you’d better finish this course first…”

A student who’d transferred from Civil Engineering just two months ago claiming to build a military-grade prototype? Nonsense. If he approved that, he’d look like an idiot.

Zhang Yu had anticipated this and promptly transmitted the data for a defensive artifact he had refined—the Yin-Yang Dual Polarity Shield.

He knew talk was useless; only results spoke.

The shield could switch between Fire Shield and Cold Shield modes and had been further optimized by Zhang Yu—perfect proof of his grasp of mana conduction principles.

At first, Jiujian barely glanced at the data, but his expression soon changed. The more he read, the more impressed he became.

“This… you refined this yourself?”

The Yin-Yang Dual Polarity Shield was of a quality expected from senior students, and its mana transmission metrics were outstanding.

Jiujian finally smiled. “Very well. Are you working on any current projects? Interested in joining my lab?”

In his vision, Zhang Yu’s gray aura now glowed faint purple—elevated to the status of a profitable, dependable workhorse.

“I don’t have time lately,” Zhang Yu declined. From Ye Xingli, he’d already learned how things worked.

Joining a teacher’s lab meant being driven relentlessly under the guise of “guidance,” often for miserable pay—less than hauling waste at a construction site.

Zhang Yu had his own cultivation plans and income sources. To him, Jiujian’s “mentorship” wasn’t worth the price.

Jiujian nodded with a grin. “Fine. My door’s always open if you change your mind.”

On the far side of the classroom, most students had long dispersed.

Ziyun Zhen, however, had deliberately stayed behind to eavesdrop on their exchange.

Seeing Jiujian’s respect toward Zhang Yu, she was secretly shocked. “Zhang Yu… he’s getting stronger and stronger.”

Ever since she became Ye Xingli’s assistant, she often saw Zhang Yu cultivating artifact refinement techniques in the lab—and mastering one after another.

He’d explained it as the influence of his Nascent Soul Law Husk, which had made her eyes burn with envy.

“I can dual cultivate too! I can change gender!” she muttered in frustration.

Unfortunately, even after testing, she hadn’t been chosen by a Nascent Soul Law Husk.

Meanwhile, Zhang Yu’s growing skill drew more clients and more fame among Artifact Refinement students.

Still, she thought to herself, “He’s only a junior and already planning to make the Heaven-Sun Radiance prototype? That’s too big a step.”

She didn’t believe in his success.

“Whatever technique the Nascent Soul Law Husk passes down depends on luck. How could it conveniently fit the Heaven-Sun Radiance’s design?”

“Just got lucky and now he thinks he’s a genius?”

As Zhang Yu continued requesting leave from various instructors, news of his plan to build the prototype spread across the department, further enhancing his reputation.

…

Inside the lab.

Ye Xingli unfurled the Vacuum Cataclysm Diagram with a flick of her wrist.

Within the sealed space it projected, airflow, temperature, humidity, spiritual energy, and gravity all shifted under her control, forming the precise environment she needed.

On the test bench, an artifact slowly disassembled itself, revealing its intricate inner structure.

Across the lab, Zhang Yu suddenly frowned during cultivation. “Such a sharp, acrid odor… that’s fiendish qi?”

Ye Xingli nodded. “A factory’s using this artifact to purify Earthfiend Qi—but it malfunctioned, causing a leak.”

“The leak itself wasn’t serious—until it reached the city’s lower water pipes. The contamination caused a stir.”

“Fortunately, the factory manager was quick-witted—he mixed in his own sewage, claimed it was just a wastewater leak, and ended up charging the poor who drank it a sanitation fee instead of paying compensation.”

Zhang Yu’s heart sank once again. In Kunxu, being poor meant that even when fed filth, you still had to pay for the privilege.

As Ye Xingli adjusted the Vacuum Cataclysm Diagram, she privately messaged him: I heard you’re taking leave to prepare for the Heaven-Sun Radiance prototype? Still not giving up?

Zhang Yu replied: No. I’m confident.

Seeing his resolve, Ye Xingli didn’t argue further but added: If you’re serious, you’d better find out who else plans to attempt the Heaven-Sun Radiance in the coming years.

Officially it’s never stated, but the number of military licenses per model each year is fixed. For something like the Heaven-Sun Radiance Divine Machine, only one license is issued per academic year.

So people usually register their intent early to avoid conflicts.

By the way, Jin Jun—he’s the one preparing the Heaven-Sun Radiance prototype for next year’s cycle. He’s a friend of mine. You can consult him if needed.

Zhang Yu pondered silently. “Next academic year?”

“It’s almost June now. In three months, the new term begins—and I’ll be a senior.”

“Everyone probably thinks my project will take years to finish.”

“But judging by my current progress… I’ll have the prototype ready by next year.”

“That means Jin Jun and I are direct competitors.”

“If he gets the military license first, I’ll have to wait until my fifth year…”

…

Inside a Spiritual Realm abode.

Jin Jun checked his Golden Core Simulation Score: 158,312.

Reviewing it daily, watching his steady growth—this was his long-standing habit.

Then his Spiritual Realm projection shimmered, transforming into a towering, three-meter-tall figure clad entirely in golden Law Husks.

Parameters flickered across the armor’s surface, displaying the powerful specifications of the components he’d refined and upgraded himself.

As the wielder of the military-grade technique Void Artifact Codex, his artifact refinement prowess far surpassed that of most students in the department.

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