No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Inside the massive training hall, rows of students stood at attention, eyes fixed on the instructor before them.

The man was a burly middle-aged brute, a deep scar running across his face and a murderous aura hanging around him like a storm cloud. He was none other than Lei Jun, their Martial Techniques teacher.

Among the five major Immortal Path subjects taught in high school, Dao Heart, Mana, and Physical Education laid the foundation, while Martial Techniques and Dao Techniques were the practical applications of Immortal cultivation.

Debates over whether martial skills or Dao Techniques were stronger or more useful had raged for ages. Cultivators held wildly different views.

But Zhang Yu still remembered the outrageous statement Lei Jun made on the very first day of class.

“Martial techniques are damn useful. Dao Techniques? Useless.”

“You learn a Dao Technique, and it sucks you dry. The more you learn, the poorer you get. In the end, all your money goes to the companies. Everyone ends up broke.”

“Martial techniques, though? Cheaper, more practical. Learn enough of the cheap stuff, and you’ll be rolling in spirit stones.”

That was Lei Jun’s personal martial doctrine.

And true to form, as today’s exam proctor, Lei Jun wasn’t using a shred of Dao Technique power.His monthly combat exams always followed the same structure: students with similar scores from the previous month would draw lots and face off one-on-one.

Each pair would fight three rounds. Every round lasted three minutes. If a student was knocked out or pushed out of bounds, the round ended early.

After all three rounds, instructors would grade each student based on their performance.

The format closely resembled the Martial Techniques section of the college entrance exams—except those pitted students against Yellow-Turban Brutes instead of fellow students.

But this was just a monthly exam. No need to bring in expensive brutes. Skipping that saved the school quite a bit of money.

As Lei Jun finished explaining the rules, the giant screen above flickered to life, and names began to flash. The drawing of lots had begun.

Once the results were in, notifications popped up on every student’s phone, directing them to their assigned combat grids.

The training hall had been divided by white lines into square arenas, each about a dozen square meters. Every square was a ring.

Zhang Yu followed his assignment and stepped into Grid 12, where He Dayou was already waiting.

Seeing He Dayou greet him with a polite smile and nod, Zhang Yu nodded back in return.

“You finally showed up,” He Dayou muttered as he calmly stepped toward the center of the grid, suppressing the violent impulses surging in his chest.

To give himself a proper excuse to teach Zhang Yu a lesson, He Dayou had used his status as the school board director’s son to quietly rig the draw. Despite being ranked 3rd last month, he’d gotten Zhang Yu—who’d placed 10th—as his opponent.

It was a stretch, but technically within the rules. Their scores were close enough not to raise suspicion.

“He hasn’t improved much in anything but Mana class this month, has he? His real rank should be somewhere in the twenties or thirties by now.”

As for He Dayou himself, not only had he maintained his top-three status, but he’d also advanced his Scattered Hand to Level 2 two weeks ago—and just mastered a new Martial Technique at his prep class.

“Not that I’ll need it. Against this broke scrub, Level 2 Scattered Hand is overkill.”

“The only real question is... do I break his arm, or his leg?”

Lost in thought, He Dayou and Zhang Yu stepped to the center of the ring and took their positions, standing just over a meter apart.

He Dayou’s eyes flicked over Zhang Yu’s body, calculating the best way to deal a humiliating blow.

Outside the grid, an assistant teacher raised a phone and began recording the match.

After the exam, Lei Jun and the other Grade 10 Martial Techniques instructors would review the footage and score the fights.

“Are you both ready?” the assistant teacher asked.

Both Zhang Yu and He Dayou nodded.

“Then: Demonstration Class students Zhang Yu and He Dayou, Round One…”

“3, 2, 1—begin!”

The instant the countdown hit zero, He Dayou struck.

His right arm whipped out, faster than the eye could track, slicing toward Zhang Yu’s neck like a blade.

In his mind, he’d already mapped out Zhang Yu’s possible counters.

With wealth and time on his side, He Dayou trained in live combat daily, hiring sparring partners to sharpen his edge. He’d rehearsed every reaction a thousand times—and learned how to dismantle them.

That was the power of real combat experience.

Combined with a Level 2 Scattered Hand, He Dayou had every reason to be confident.

“Alright then… let’s go for the hand.”

He poured Mana into his palm—

BANG!

A thunderous impact exploded from his abdomen.

The next moment, his vision spun violently. A cold, unforgiving floor. Pain everywhere.

Several seconds passed before He Dayou even understood what had happened.

Zhang Yu had thrown him.

He’d been blown out of the ring in a single move.

“Did I just get one-shotted?”

His face flushed crimson. “Impossible!”

Seeing his reaction, the assistant teacher quickly replayed the footage on the spot to avoid any arguments.

Onscreen, He Dayou’s palm strike lashed out—only for Zhang Yu to duck under it and charge forward like a battering ram. He slammed into He Dayou and suplexed him clean out of bounds.

The whole exchange took less than a second. It almost looked like He Dayou had thrown himself.

Seething with embarrassment, He Dayou grit his teeth. He hadn’t even gone all out. He hadn’t used his new technique. One lapse of focus and—

“I underestimated him. I was too distracted, thinking about how to humiliate him…”

No point whining. Excuses would only make him look even more pathetic.

Taking a deep breath, he gave Zhang Yu a nod. “Nice move. Let’s keep going.”

The assistant confirmed that He Dayou was uninjured, then waved the two boys back into the ring.

Once again, they stood a meter apart, facing off.

Zhang Yu smiled, thinking to himself, “This is going to score me serious points.”

His Level 3 Scattered Hand was performing even better than expected.

He wasn’t deluded—his combat experience couldn’t match a pampered trust fund kid like He Dayou.

But his mastery of all fifteen Scattered Hand forms was absolute.

The moment He Dayou moved, Zhang Yu could tell exactly which strike was coming and where the opening would appear.

His body didn’t hesitate. It lunged forward, Mana surging through his arms, and launched the perfect counter.

“In first-year Scattered Hand duels, unless the opponent’s at Level 3 too, they’ll always be a step slower.”

“And my body’s pretty tough now too. Among the entire Grade 10 class, I might be unbeatable.”

Across from him, He Dayou’s expression had grown grim. The cocky ease from before was gone.

This time, he would focus. No distractions. He’d crush Zhang Yu with everything he had.

He would not give him even half a chance.

“Zhang Yu and He Dayou, Round Two.”

“3, 2, 1—begin!”

He Dayou erupted forward, fist brimming with Mana, aimed straight at Zhang Yu’s face.

BOOM!

Another violent impact.

Another spinning world. Another cold floor. More pain.

Dazed, He Dayou pulled himself off the ground.

He’d been one-shotted again?

Replay time.

Just as his punch launched, Zhang Yu’s foot smashed into his chest and launched him into the air.

Their movements were so fast, it looked like He Dayou had impaled himself on Zhang Yu’s outstretched foot.

Round Three.

This time, He Dayou didn’t charge. He dropped into a defensive stance, watching Zhang Yu like a hawk.

“Got cautious after getting insta-dumped twice, huh?” Zhang Yu mused.

His earlier wins came from perfectly reading He Dayou’s attacks and charging straight into the openings at just the right time, multiplying their impact.

But now that He Dayou was on guard and not charging recklessly, the same trick wouldn’t work.

No matter. Zhang Yu had other strategies.

Physically and spiritually, his recent gains put him on par with even top-tier students like He Dayou.

The rich kid wasn’t some meathead power build either—he’d gone for a balanced approach, just like Zhang Yu.

So if he wouldn’t attack, Zhang Yu would take the initiative.

He surged forward and slammed a palm strike at He Dayou’s chest.

“He’s coming!” He Dayou’s eyes lit up. He met the strike with a punch.

Another palm came. And another.

“What, the same move again?” He Dayou blocked them all, but his arms were growing numb, Mana churning in his meridians.

Zhang Yu’s attacks were shockingly fierce.

This wasn’t just technique—it was raw force. Strength of body. Depth of Mana.

His strategy was brutally simple: overpower the opponent head-on.

Level 3 Scattered Hand didn’t just bring better form mastery. It amplified the output. The same move, in Zhang Yu’s hands, carried more weight, more pressure, more pain.

He Dayou was starting to realize this—and a smile crept across his lips.

“You want to go head-to-head?”

“Fine. Let’s see who’s tougher.”

He activated his newly mastered technique—Lesser Starfall Palm. His dantian flared, and a surge of cold, piercing Mana erupted from his palm toward Zhang Yu…