No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

1:00 a.m.

Having wrapped up his security shift, Zhang Yu squeezed into the metro, then switched to a bus headed for his rented place in the outskirts.

As for why the subway and bus were still packed at this hour—it was simply because 1:00 a.m. marked the start of Songyang City’s late-night rush hour. Plenty of people were either getting off work or heading to it.

Once home, he took a shower and glanced at his bank balance, wondering if he could finally afford an air conditioner.

After all, having 8,300 in savings suddenly made this month feel far more comfortable.

But then he remembered—two weeks from now, a new month would begin, and with it came a 15,000 yuan Cultivation Loan payment. That thought made him frown again.

His mind drifted back to what Bai Zhenzhen had told him.

”The school contract, huh?” he muttered.

If signing that contract could get him a decent monthly stipend, he wouldn’t have to worry about the loan for now.

Still, Zhang Yu knew there was no point in overthinking it. Whether it was his performance before the Celestial Martial Diagram or the school contract, it all ultimately hinged on his own talent and strength.With that in mind, he took out a dose of Neural Filler he’d bought from the stationery shop by the school gate and downed it.

Then he sat cross-legged on the bed and began circulating the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique, drawing wisps of Spiritual Energy from the heavens and earth into his body.

Although he’d switched his Feathered Tome’s specialization to the Heavenly Martial Heart-Forging Technique earlier for the Celestial Martial Diagram trial, and couldn’t switch it back for another 24 hours, that didn’t matter much. His Dao Heart wasn’t yet Level 3, so he couldn’t even cultivate the Heavenly Martial Heart-Forging Technique properly yet.

Besides, the upcoming Spell Tournament required him to boost his Mana.

Even though he couldn’t rapidly improve the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique today, the fact that it was already Level 4 meant it would still boost his Mana effectively.

And so the rest of the night passed as Zhang Yu silently breathed in and out, absorbing Spiritual Energy.

…

The next morning.

The moment Zhang Yu stepped into the classroom, he sensed something was off.

Normally, most students at Songyang High were laser-focused on their own study and cultivation. Few paid any attention to their ordinary classmates.

It wasn’t unusual for two people in the same class to go months without exchanging a word.

Zhang Yu was used to slipping into class unnoticed. Only someone like Zhao Tianxing would assume everyone was watching him every time he walked in.

But today was different. As Zhang Yu walked in, he could clearly feel classmates sneaking glances at him.

Right after he sat down, Zhou Tianyi patted him on the shoulder and said, “Word’s out—you’re the one the Gold Core Cultivator wants to take as a disciple.”

“Sounds like someone from that group you went to the art exhibit with—Qian Shen and the others—leaked it in the class chat.”

It was common knowledge that school was one of the fastest places for rumors to spread.

At a top-tier pressure-cooker like Songyang High, where every student had a phone and most had no time for romance, gossip traveled at lightning speed.

Not only was the news out, even a photo of Zhang Yu in his security guard uniform had made the rounds.

Zhang Yu chuckled.

“So they’ve started talking about me, huh? That’s Songyang Speed for you. Let ’em keep talking.”

In these grim, grind-heavy days of forced cultivation, it was a rare bit of fun to feel others’ admiration and curiosity—even if only behind his back.

Then he sighed, realizing the headache this might bring.

Yesterday, Li Xuelian had secretly pulled him into a side meeting just to let him down gently.

Which meant that most people present didn’t actually know the Gold Core Cultivator had rejected him. They still thought, like Li Xuelian had announced on stage, that he was about to be accepted as a disciple.

“Would be kinda dumb to hop on the lectern and clarify things now, huh.”

“Forget it. Let them believe whatever they want. They’ll move on soon enough.”

Zhang Yu shut his eyes and resumed his breathing practice, continuing to draw in Spiritual Energy with the Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique.

His classmates’ chatter was nothing more than a passing amusement.

Just like he’d planned, his main focus remained improving his Mana and preparing for the city-wide Spell Tournament.

But before he could get far into breathing practice, homeroom teacher Su Haifeng called him out.

…

The last time Su Haifeng had summoned him was Zhang Yu’s third day in this world.

Back then, he still didn’t understand Songyang High or its teachers well.

He’d even mistaken Su Haifeng for a kind instructor who cared about struggling students.

Now, as he trailed behind the teacher outside the classroom, Zhang Yu could clearly feel the oppressive aura radiating from the man—this homeroom teacher of the elite demo class, and also the grade director.

Wherever Su Haifeng passed, classrooms went silent. Students sat frozen.

Qian Shen dared not move, seriously focused on his breathing.

Zhao Tianxing, who had just stood up to head to the bathroom, scrambled back into his seat and grabbed a book.

Even Bai Zhenzhen sat ramrod-straight like a schoolkid, eyes glued to her textbook.

Everyone’s nerves were taut. No one wanted Su Haifeng’s attention.

This was the infamous Su Haifeng, Grade One Director at Songyang High, the man behind the academic paper ”On the Prospects of Using Electric Shocks in High School Teaching.”

Even a dog passing by him would feel compelled to read a few pages.

Zhang Yu followed the man’s domain of academic dread into the office, where the devil himself smiled and said, “So I hear Xinghuo Zhenren wants to take you as a disciple?”

Zhang Yu had no intention of lying about joining a Gold Core Cultivator’s tutelage. That kind of bluff was too easy to debunk and would only backfire.

He answered honestly, “No. I thought Xinghuo Zhenren’s offer wasn’t good enough, so I turned it down.”

Su Haifeng’s mouth twitched.

This kid came from a broke family, hadn’t even brought a single gift in the three months since school started, and now that he’s in the spotlight, he’s suddenly got airs?

“Trying to raise your price before the contract talk?”

Typical poor kid—gets a little success and it all goes to his head.

Still, this meant negotiating the upcoming contract might not be so simple.

“Hm.” He pondered, then pulled out a document. “The school is aware of your performance at the Central Tower’s art exhibit.”

“Even though your grades slipped lately, you got chewed out by the PE teacher, haven’t been buying supplements, and even had debt collectors calling me directly… the school still values talent. We’ve decided to offer some support.”

Zhang Yu narrowed his eyes.

Classic Su Haifeng—the so-called “birth trauma” of Songyang High. First thing out of his mouth is emotional manipulation.

Zhang Yu recalled what Bai Zhenzhen had told him about the contracts and figured this must be the lead-in to negotiations.

Sure enough, Su Haifeng placed the document in front of him and said, “This is a student aid contract prepared just for you. It’s far better than the previous poverty support program. Have a look and let me know if you’ve got questions.”

Zhang Yu skimmed through it. The school would transfer him 10,000 yuan monthly—repayable, but with lower interest than market loans.

The catch? No matter what university he got into, or even if he didn’t, he’d be contractually bound to work for ten years at a company under the school’s education group.

Songyang High was a subsidiary of the Wanxing Education Group, which itself belonged to the Wanfa Sect—one of the Ten Great Academies.

In other words, signing meant a ten-year indenture to Wanxing Education Group.

Also, when it came time to apply for college, Songyang High would have the final say over which university and major he could choose.

“Ten grand a month for this kind of slave contract?”

Even without seeing other students’ contracts, Zhang Yu could tell this was a lowball offer.

He set the document down, frowning. “Teacher, this is way too low. I made 800 yuan an hour doing security at the Central Tower.”

“Temp jobs aren’t sustainable,” Su Haifeng replied, dismissing the idea before pivoting. “I admit the contract’s terms are a bit lacking, but there’s a reason for that.”

“After all, the Celestial Martial Diagram trial—what exactly did it test? What were the criteria? The quality of all candidates? The school had no firsthand insight into any of that. You didn’t even complete the technique during the test.”

“Meanwhile, your scores have clearly dropped this month.”

“Academic performance is still the core metric here. Six subjects, 700 points—our evaluation system is more Dao-correct, more rational, and frankly, more respected by our school board. The contract process reflects that.”

Zhang Yu’s frown deepened. Su Haifeng wasn’t wrong.

At Songyang High, grades still ruled above all.

Aside from Zhang Yu himself, no one at the school understood how difficult or powerful the Heavenly Martial Heart-Forging Technique really was—especially since it required a Level 3 Dao Heart.

And since he had no license to teach the technique, nor any authority to endorse it, no one would believe his claims about it.

Zhang Yu said, “There’s no way I’m signing that contract.”

Su Haifeng smiled faintly, clearly thinking: Time to raise the bid?

He said calmly, “No need to rush. I’m your homeroom teacher. I can try to get you a better deal.”

Zhang Yu replied, “Can you offer me the same terms as Bai Zhenzhen?”

Su Haifeng didn’t answer directly. Instead, he just chuckled—a chuckle loaded with implications.

Then he said, “I’m not in charge of Bai Zhenzhen’s contract. But I can tell you this—she’s the year’s top scorer with 650 points. What’s your score?”

Zhang Yu: “So if I take the top spot, everything’s negotiable?”

Staring at Zhang Yu’s serious expression, Su Haifeng smiled and took the contract back. “How well you do depends on your ability.”

“Contract tiers are based on performance. While there’s room for nuance, in the end, we only have four levels—A, B, C, and D.”

“Your next monthly exam is in two weeks. If you don’t like this D-tier offer, we can renegotiate after your new scores come in.”