No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

A few days ago.

Songyang High School.

Inside a cultivation Meditation Chamber.

As the current Student Council President, top senior student, and an outstanding scion of the Zhou Family, Zhou Chechen had poured in countless hours, energy, and money—only to discover that he couldn’t uncover who was backing Zhang Yu.

Upon hearing Zhou Chechen’s report, Lan Ling’s eyes burned with hatred. He snapped, “Forget the investigation. Let’s cripple him directly!”

“Just hire the fastest delivery rider in Songyang City and have them crash into him while making a delivery. Cripple the kid and then drag out the compensation case as long as possible.”

“After all, delivery riders kill people every year. Crashing into a high schooler? Totally normal…”

Seeing Lan Ling so fired up, Zhou Chechen sighed and said, “Can’t you just calm down a bit?”

“So he carved some words into your skin, made me vomit blood, and turned us into laughingstocks across the entire school. So what?”

Lan Ling stared at Zhou Chechen like he was insane. “So what?! That was a total humiliation! And now you want me to swallow it? Might as well switch techniques and start cultivating the Desolate Ox Soul-Suppressing Heart Technique!”Zhou Chechen said, “That’s exactly why you’ve been getting so hot-headed. Ever since you started that domineering Heart Technique, your temper’s gotten worse.”

“But a person should control their Heart Technique—not be controlled by it.”

“Oftentimes, instead of trying to force your technique to circulate properly, it’s better to just sort things out in here.” He tapped his temple. “If you can figure it out on your own, you won’t have to spend a single cent. Isn’t that more cost-effective?”

“Sure, I was furious when it happened—but you can’t stay mad forever, right? Think about it. Once you’re in college, once you graduate and start working… Who’ll even remember this stuff?”

“Back then it felt like a huge deal, like the sky was falling. But a few years later, it’ll just be a speck of dust on your timeline.”

“If we just study hard, get into college, won’t our futures be brighter than those two broke losers?”

“Songyang City spits out some rags-to-riches genius every year. But how many of them actually make a splash? In the end, this world still belongs to the legacy clans and the rich…”

Lan Ling didn’t want to hear any more of it. “You’re seriously just going to let it go? President! That puke-clip of you got posted all over regular high schools! You know what they’re calling us now? ‘Vomit King of Songyang’ and ‘Songyang Community College Kid’!”

“And you’re okay with this?! You weren’t like this before!”

Zhou Chechen’s cheek twitched, and he forced a helpless smile. “Lan Ling, if it were just a kid from Class 10 of Grade 11, I’d already be helping you smash their whole class into the ground.”

“But when it comes to Zhang Yu, I can only tell you to let it go—for now. Sometimes you’ve got to look at the bigger picture…”

“Why?” Lan Ling stared hard at Zhou Chechen, like he was seeing a stranger. “President! You’re not the type to back down. And it’s not like we’re up against anyone important—just two broke losers. So tell me. What’s really going on?”

Zhou Chechen said flatly, “You know they’re broke. So how do you think Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen managed to grow this far after Zhang Pianpian left, if they had no one behind them?”

“Someone’s backing them.”

“And whoever it is—we can’t trace them.”

“That’s the terrifying part.”

“It means they’re on a whole different level from us.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to back off.”

“We’re already seniors. The college entrance exam is in ten months. It’s not worth throwing our money and time into a black hole.”

Zhou Chechen truly believed that—and had every intention of acting accordingly.

But that same night, an unexpected visit from a family elder upended all his plans.

A surge of divine power rippled through the air. A Divine Projection appeared before Zhou Chechen.

His heart skipped a beat. “A Projection Sigil?”

The man in the projection bore a resemblance to Zhou Chechen, but his expression was colder, sharper.

Most striking of all were the five golden characters glowing above his head—Purple-Gold Merit Holder.

“Purple-Gold Merit Holder…”

Zhou Chechen knew exactly what that meant: a revered believer who spent over a hundred million each year on official Righteous Gods offerings to reach Level 3 in divine favor.

And the fact that the title was forcibly displayed, unhideable even with closed eyes… That was just one of the many perks of being a Purple-Gold Merit Holder.

The moment he saw the figure, Zhou Chechen stood up respectfully. “Uncle.”

The projection was of Zhou Yang, a senior member of the Zhou Family.

Unlike others who handled the family’s corpse business, Zhou Yang was an executive at Wanxing Group.

And Songyang High School was a subsidiary of the Wanxing Education Group.

This interweaving of family members across major companies was standard among the Songyang elite clans. These nodes of power were the critical joints where business and local governance meshed.

Standing before Zhou Yang, Zhou Chechen suddenly felt how small he was. His reputation as a straight-A student and Student Council President meant nothing compared to a corporate executive in Wanxing Group.

There were only a handful of execs in Songyang City. But top students at Songyang High School? A new batch came every year.

Zhou Yang gazed at him, then pointed. A sigil formed at his fingertip and expanded into a soundproof barrier.

Zhou Chechen watched the effortless display and sighed inwardly. At the Purple-Gold level, one could casually cast sigils even through a projection. To most people, it felt… divine.

Zhou Yang said coolly, “There’s something the family needs you to do.”

Zhou Chechen tensed, a sense of unease welling up.

Zhou Yang ignored his reaction and continued, “Pressure Zhang Yu. You already have a personal grudge with him—handle it under your own name. Don’t use the family’s.”

“Zhang Yu?” Zhou Chechen blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that.

Zhou Yang went on, “You must be precise.”

“Don’t destroy him. Just corner him—within the rules—until he has no choice but to seek help…”

Zhou Chechen’s heart stirred. “Force him to call for help? So the family’s targeting whoever’s backing him?”

Zhou Yang didn’t respond directly. “You just pin him down like we said. Don’t worry about anything else.”

Zhou Chechen sighed inwardly. The water was clearly much deeper than he’d imagined.

At that moment, he felt as if he and Zhang Yu were mere chess pieces. The real players were their families behind the scenes.

The Zhou Family might rank low among the Sixteen Clans of Songyang, but even so—it was an enormous and terrifying force.

And now that force was turning its eyes on whoever was behind Zhang Yu. That alone made it clear: Zhang Yu’s backer was no small fry either.

Two monsters preparing to clash—while he and Zhang Yu were the unfortunate collateral, caught in the tides, easily crushed.

Zhou Chechen exhaled slowly, knowing he could no longer refuse the family’s will. “Understood.”

Zhou Yang’s projection faded. But his voice lingered in Zhou Chechen’s ears:

“Don’t worry. Whether it’s money or manpower, the family will support you.”

“Go all in, Zhou Chechen.”

…

At the same time—

Inside an apartment on the 333rd floor of the Central Tower.

Zhou Yang lay on a hospital bed, his lower body gone, his upper half connected to countless tubes. He stared quietly at the city lights outside.

He murmured in his heart: “Another Evil God incident has flared up. The Inspectorate has finally shifted focus to other regions.”

Ever since an Evil God had slipped up at Songyang High School, the Inspectorate had been watching everyone—Wanxing Group, Songyang High, and even the Zhou Family’s key players. They’d all gone dormant, not daring to tap into even a sliver of Evil God power.

Yes… Evil God. That was the true foundation of the Zhou Family’s rise.

It was how their ancestors built their corpse business empire, infiltrated corporations, and clawed their way into the elite.

But the Zhou Family had always been careful with such power, using it only to strengthen the clan—never more.

So the ancestors set rules:

No Zhou member who had conducted an Evil God Ritual was allowed on the Second Floor, to keep the power out of sight—and to keep the Evil God’s tendrils from spreading.

That’s why the Zhou Family’s college-bound heirs had never undergone a Ritual—and didn’t even know Evil Gods existed.

Zhou Yang gazed out over the glittering skyline, but his mind was awash with turbulent waves—the mounting pressure his clan now faced in this new era.

He remembered the rise and fall of other clans in Songyang. Every crash marked a shift in the times.

Wealth kept concentrating. The claws of the elite clans extended into every industry.

Yet with Immortal Dao technology advancing, the number of clans at the top was shrinking.

The fallen became fertilizer for the survivors—who grew stronger and stronger, hoarding terrifying power atop Songyang City.

But what clan didn’t dream of eternal dominance? Of looming forever over the teeming masses below, generation after generation toiling in their name?

Zhou Yang’s heart whispered: “If the Zhou Family wants to remain on top… to avoid being swept away by the tides… then what we need now—”

“—is more powerful Evil God energy.”

“Zhang Yu… To think that backup organ ended up becoming a worshiper of an Evil God.”

“What a pity Zhou Tianyi botched the operation. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t have had to wait this long…”

Zhou Yang didn’t care about Zhang Yu himself. With a single thought, he had countless ways to destroy the boy.

What mattered was the Evil God behind him.

He wouldn’t crush Zhang Yu outright. No—he’d use Zhou Chechen’s hands to slowly squeeze him. Squeeze him until Zhang Yu, under his surveillance, had no choice but to call upon the Evil God…

And then he’d find it.