No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

Songyang High School.

Inside the classroom.

Campus life remained as tranquil as ever, and the students’ enthusiasm for studying was just as high as usual.

The Chinese teacher stood at the podium, delivering a lesson with near-invisibility, while the students below were busy with their own affairs—some throwing punches, some meditating, some taking pills, and others already engaged in actual fights… all part of their combat training.

That was just the classroom vibe at a top-tier high school.

At the start of the semester, freshmen from junior high would still behave a little reserved, but after six months, everyone had dropped their masks and revealed their true faces as hardcore cultivation nerds.

The Chinese teacher didn’t mind. Whether they were practicing martial arts, meditating, brawling, popping pills, or jabbing themselves with needles—it was all way more important than her modest language class. As long as they didn’t hit her, she had no complaints.

She knew that general studies teachers at Songyang were already considered relatively well-off. One of her classmates had transferred to teach at White Dragon High School and was now a constant cautionary tale wielded by school administrators: “If you don’t ace the entrance exam, you’ll end up like her—teaching Chinese in high school. Total failure.”

She sighed inwardly. “If it weren’t for the sect and city government’s regulations, top high schools would’ve cut general studies from the schedule entirely by now.”

Just then, she heard a phone ringing from somewhere in the classroom.That finally made her stir. She was about to remind the student, “Hey, switch your phone to vibrate during Chinese class so you don’t disturb others.”

But when she looked up, she saw the phone’s owner—Zhang Yu.

Even a lowly general studies teacher like her had heard all about this campus legend.

First-year study demon, Songyang’s resident scumbag, tainted root bearer, sugar baby… she’d heard every nickname under the sun.

Word was, he’d taken first place in yesterday’s martial arts competition. And even though he showed up two minutes late today, not a single soul dared say a word.

Considering he had that rich girl from White Dragon backing him, and even had the guts to clash with the Student Council, there was no way a humble Chinese teacher like her was going to complain about a phone ringtone.

She quickly lowered her head and pretended to have heard nothing.

Zhang Yu had been meditating, working on his heart technique to strengthen his Dao Heart, when he picked up his phone and saw that the martial arts competition prize money had hit his account.

“Not a lot, but it arrived fast.”

Though he received 50,000 yuan, after repaying 40,000 to Zhang Pianpian and covering meal loans from Qian Shen and Zhao Tianxing, his balance had already dropped below 10,000.

He knew that Bai Zhenzhen, who placed fourth, got a 10,000 yuan prize—so her account balance was probably similar to his now.

But thinking about the fact that a new month was just two weeks away, which meant another round of interest payments, rent, utilities—he already felt a headache coming on.

“Oh right, I also need to replace my weighted training gear. With body tempering over the next two months, even food expenses are gonna spike…”

The more Zhang Yu thought about it, the more he realized just how many places his money was going.

“Good thing I’ll have some income from Song Hailong’s side.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the classroom, Bai Zhenzhen also received a notification that her prize money had arrived.

And along with that came messages from Zhang Pianpian.

Zhang Pianpian: Not used to using your spirit root, huh? If you were more practiced, you probably would’ve gone further in the competition.

Zhang Pianpian: Just rent one every day from now on. Say I’m investing in you to cover the costs.

Zhang Pianpian: It’s an evolving spirit root—the more you use it, the stronger it becomes.

Seeing the messages, Bai Zhenzhen’s heart skipped a beat. But she quickly caught on.

“She figured out I have a spirit root?”

“She wants to cover for me?”

Bai Zhenzhen knew her own situation well. Every night at home, she secretly used her spirit root to cultivate.

But because she feared being exposed for carrying such a “precious treasure,” she never dared to use it openly at school.

If word got out, she’d be swarmed—not just by banks looking to collateralize it, or gambling dens trying to lure her in—but also by scammers and worse. And that was before even considering what the wealthy might do if they caught wind.

So Zhang Pianpian’s message triggered a primal panic in her, a deeply rooted fear, like having a ten-year constipation suddenly exposed.

But thinking about how Zhang Pianpian had been looking out for her lately, how she was Zhang Yu’s sister, how she had openly admitted to being a fake rich girl, and how she’d scored 699 on the exam… Bai Zhenzhen slowly calmed down.

“I think… I can trust Zhang Pianpian.”

Then another thought hit her—if she used Pianpian’s name as cover, she could start using the spirit root openly at school under the guise of “renting” it every day.

“That way, I could add over ten hours a day of spirit root cultivation.”

“No more holding back next competition.”

Thinking back on the martial arts contest, even though she placed fourth, Bai Zhenzhen felt stifled—like she’d only half-finished showing off, then had to quit.

Because her stats lagged behind students from the Big Three high schools, and her bank balance wasn’t even close, she’d had to hold back constantly, eventually even forfeiting.

Now, if she could harness the full power of her spirit root, she finally had a shot at catching up to those elite academy prodigies.

“Zhang Yu took the spotlight this round, but next time it’s my turn.”

“Sure, it’s nice that my son took first—but let’s be real, kicking him aside and taking the crown myself would feel way better.”

…

In P.E. class.

The mingled scents of sweat and medicinal herbs filled the air, producing the uniquely Songyang aroma of immortal cultivation.

The clang of training equipment and the groans of straining bodies echoed nonstop—sounds of students pushing themselves on the path of immortality.

Yet some students couldn’t help glancing toward Bai Zhenzhen, sensing the spiritual energy swirling faintly in the air around her, each deep in their own thoughts.

Some were envious. “She gets to rent a spirit root every single day? Zhang Pianpian’s really spoiling her.”

Some had ideas. “I could learn to love White Dragon too. I’d gladly be Zhang Pianpian’s dog.”

And others veered off into wilder fantasies. “Bai Zhenzhen’s already Pianpian’s dog and gets to use a rented spirit root every day… If I become Bai Zhenzhen’s dog, think she’d let me borrow it for like an hour a day?”

Meanwhile, Zhang Yu wasn’t doing body drills like the others. Instead, he’d slipped into a small room off to the side to work on the move he’d just learned yesterday—Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike.

Since he’d swapped his YuScript specialization over to this grappling technique, and the 24-hour cooldown hadn’t expired yet, it was the only practical combat skill he could level up for now.

“Might as well keep grinding this one. Once the cooldown resets tonight, I’ll switch back to Crimson Marrow Primordial Qi.”

His hands blurred with afterimages as he launched into the form: Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike.

Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike, Level 2 (4/20)

This purely physical martial art had eighteen moves total. Though the number sounded high, each one was brutally simple—designed to snap tendons, break bones, slam opponents to the ground, and lock them in with instant explosive force.

Grappling techniques emphasized speed and ferocity. The average move didn’t even take a full second. In the blink of an eye, Zhang Yu had run through the full set.

He thought back to the other combat arts he’d trained and couldn’t help but sigh. “Practical combat techniques are always short and sharp. You can fly through a whole set in no time.”

If that hadn’t been the case, there was no way he could’ve learned and even outclassed Song Hailong’s technique in the arena yesterday.

A few minutes later, a buzz shot through his mind. Countless flashes of experience surfaced for Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike—he’d just leveled it up from 2 to 3.

“At this pace, I should be able to hit level 10 by the end of today.”

While Zhang Yu was grinding away in that side room, P.E. teacher Wang Hai had called over Qian Shen, He Dayou, Zhao Tianxing, and two other students.

“The school’s planning to select some promising first-years to join the athletics competition team for training.”

“Are you five interested?”

Before the others could even react, Qian Shen jumped in. “Just us five? What about Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen?”

Wang Hai replied, “The administration thinks they need more time to settle.”

Qian Shen frowned. “They ranked first and second in the monthly exam. They still need to settle? But we’re good enough to make the cut?”

Of course, Wang Hai couldn’t say it was all because of Student Council interference. He had to fall back on a safer excuse.

“Because they’re too poor.”

That made all five of them pause, but before long even Qian Shen was nodding in resignation.

Especially when he thought about how Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen had borrowed money just to buy dinner not long ago—it made their financial situation painfully clear.

Once the five were officially inducted into the competition team, Wang Hai called Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen over.

“Your athletics competition applications were denied again.”

He looked at the two of them with some regret. “You should already know why.”

Wang Hai had originally assumed Zhang Yu was some elite inner disciple, but after Zhang Pianpian had come to Songyang to back him up—and even clashed with the Student Council—he was no longer sure.

Regardless of which sect he came from, Wang Hai could tell Zhang Yu had serious potential. He could be a real contender in athletic tournaments.

“What a shame. The Student Council won’t even give them a chance.”

Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen understood instantly. It was obvious the Student Council had blocked them.

Wang Hai continued, “But it’s not a total dead end. If, one month from now, your physical stats remain in the top five for your grade, you can represent the school in competition.”

They exchanged a puzzled look.

Wang Hai clarified, “The school’s already picked five students from first year to join the athletics team.”

“If, in a month, you two can outperform them and stay in the top five physically, then you’ll be allowed to compete.”

Now it made sense. Clearly, the Student Council was betting that with a month of team training, these five recruits would surpass Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen in physical stats—effectively locking them out.

Seeing the fiery determination suddenly burning in their eyes, Wang Hai let out a quiet sigh.

As Songyang’s ace P.E. teacher, he knew all too well how intense the competition team’s training methods were.

“This so-called one-month evaluation is just a formality—a way for the Student Council to shut them out with a clean excuse, so even Zhang Pianpian can’t object.”

“At the rate they’re improving, Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen might hit 2.1 or maybe 2.2 in body strength after a month…”

“But with the competition team’s special training program, He Dayou and the others could break 3.0 in that same time.”

“This isn’t about talent. It’s a gap in cultivation tech. If Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen had access to that training program, they’d probably grow even faster…”

And because he understood that so clearly, Wang Hai knew the truth.

Now that they’d been barred from the special training plan, Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen no longer had a realistic path to match the competition team’s physical strength—or a real shot at joining the tournament.