No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

After obtaining Bai Zhenzhen’s Divine Spirit Root, Zhang Yu spent a great deal of time operating his Level-20 Technique to nourish the Divine Spirit Root within his dantian.

As he nourished the root, his body was continually strengthened by it.

This strengthening originated from Bai Zhenzhen’s own cultivation; it was the result of long-term adaptation by the Divine Spirit Root within her body.

Now that this strengthening was spreading within Zhang Yu’s body, he could feel noticeable improvements—his reflexes, thought processes, mana circulation, even the speed at which he mobilized his Martial Qi had all increased.

But Zhang Yu knew well: “The Divine Spirit Root hasn’t been in my body for long. These boosts are still too minor.”

“To truly benefit from the Divine Spirit Root, I need to copy the Dao Seed so I can keep using the Greenlotus Sword Embryo even after Ah-Zhen leaves.”

Back in high school, Zhang Yu had known how powerful a True Spirit Root could be, but he never gave it much thought.

After all, that root ultimately belonged to Bai Zhenzhen, and once he formed his Foundation, he knew he’d have to focus on his own Spirit Root.

Especially after Bai Zhenzhen was taken in by the Seven Sentiments Lord as a disciple—Zhang Yu abandoned the idea altogether.

Now, however, things were different. On one hand, he’d activated the Dao Seed Codex and could now copy Bai Zhenzhen’s Greenlotus Sword Embryo. On the other, the Divine Spirit Root had proven to be incredibly potent—capable of suppressing his Qi Sea Spirit Root and taking its place.

Zhang Yu made up his mind.

“I need to hurry and copy the Dao Seed before Ah-Zhen leaves Wanfa University.”

“Otherwise, who knows how long it’ll be until we meet again.”

To pull this off, Zhang Yu had to do more than just run his Level-20 Technique for 300 hours to nourish the root.

Most importantly, he had to safely and discreetly return the Divine Spirit Root to Bai Zhenzhen each time.

“No one can find out.”

With that in mind, Zhang Yu moved more decisively, pushing the True Spirit Root fully back into Bai Zhenzhen’s dantian.

“Mm…” Bai Zhenzhen’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft, drawn-out sound escaping her lips.

A tingling wave surged from head to toe.

The Divine Spirit Root, having acclimated in Zhang Yu’s body, was now returning its enhancements to her.

Her stamina, endurance, bone density, and all-around bodily resistance were increasing—albeit at a slow pace.

Still, the time the Divine Spirit Root had spent in Zhang Yu was brief, so the stimulation she received was far weaker than what he had experienced.

A few moments later, Bai Zhenzhen exhaled softly. Though still a bit uncomfortable, she felt it wouldn’t hinder her movements.

Zhang Yu said, “You’d better get back, Ah-Zhen. Don’t let anyone spot you.”

Bai Zhenzhen nodded. “I’m off, then.”

Her figure flickered—and vanished.

Zhang Yu thought to himself, “Ah-Zhen’s stealth ability is getting scarier by the day, especially with the Divine Spirit Root’s boost.”

But he didn’t spend time studying that skill. Ever since he’d gotten the Divine Spirit Root, all his focus had gone into nourishing it.

“The priority is copying the Dao Seed. I’ll have time to explore the root’s other capabilities later.”

As Zhang Yu snuck his way out of the 66th floor, Fu Ji’s voice reminded him, “Zhang Yu, find some time to run the ritual for Bai Zhenzhen.”

“Boost her potential a bit—and install the latest surveillance and anti-surveillance rituals while you’re at it.”

Zhang Yu nodded. “Got it.”

…

Outside the Heavenly Sword delegation’s guest rooms—

A young man furrowed his brow, visibly puzzled. “Where did Bai Zhenzhen go?”

His name was Wen Wuya, one of the core members representing Heavenly Sword University, hailing from the tenth floor of Kunxu.

He’d come looking for Bai Zhenzhen to go to the tournament venue together but found her room empty.

He tried contacting her, only to receive a curt “On my way” in response.

When he followed up with a voice call, she rejected it. Again. And again.

He sighed. “Does Bai Zhenzhen still not trust me?”

Wenya thought back to their first meeting a year and a half ago. The moment he saw the Divine Spirit Root within her—and learned she was a disciple of a Nascent Soul cultivator—it had captivated him.

It also stirred the Divine Spirit Root within his own dantian.

He’d been ready to lavish her with gifts—send her 30 spirit coins upfront, then transfer another one with every sentence he spoke—to woo her into Dual Cultivation.

But the Seven Sentiments Lord had stopped him.

The god-like mentor laid down a rule: Wen Wuya had to win Bai Zhenzhen’s heart without spending money. Only then would he be allowed to Dual Cultivate with her.

“Form a deep emotional bond?”

“But without money, where would feelings come from?”

Wen Wuya couldn’t wrap his head around it.

In his worldview, feelings were money. The more you spent, the deeper the feelings.

“Extreme Sentiment Swordsmanship has always been about spending your way into love, hasn’t it?”

“Don’t spend, but expect affection? Am I supposed to retract my transfers? Demand my gifts back?”

“Isn’t that fraud?”

To him, a master who didn’t invest in their disciples was a bad master—and a disciple who didn’t make money for their master was a bad disciple.

As for family? The strongest family bonds, in his eyes, came from debt obligations incurred at birth.

“Feelings are money. Asking me not to spend…”

He didn’t get it.

At the Seven Sentiments Lord’s urging, Wen Wuya began reading ancient texts and materials about the poor. Only then did he learn:

“In the old days, Kunxu lacked advanced Immortal Dao technology. The economy was underdeveloped. Currency circulation was low. So people used all sorts of cheap methods to build relationships…”

“Even today, many poor people still rely on those outdated methods because they can’t afford anything else.”

Wen Wuya mused, “Back then, Kunxu was so backwards, people lacked trust, couldn’t pay each other, and scams were everywhere.”

“And now the poor still cling to those scammy techniques instead of just making more money.”

Even though he didn’t understand the Seven Sentiments Lord’s intentions, Wen Wuya tried to follow the ancient practices to strengthen his bond with Bai Zhenzhen—without spending a coin.

He greeted her every day, asked what she’d eaten.

He tried spending time with her in fixed locations.

He complimented her traits: “Powerful Divine Spirit Root. Wealthy teacher. Valuable hair. High credit limit…”

He learned various phrases, tactics, even “strategic deceit” from old sources.

But a year and a half later, nothing had worked.

Bai Zhenzhen’s replies never exceeded five characters. She never sent him money. Never spent anything on him. Never came within two meters.

In every possible way, it was clear: they had no bond.

“Of course outdated, poor-people tactics won’t work on a Nascent Soul disciple like Bai Zhenzhen.”

Just as he was sighing internally, she reappeared.

“Zhenzhen, you’re back?”

Wen Wuya shelved his doubts, plastered on his best smile, and greeted her. “Where’d you go? I looked everywhere—I was so worried.”

Bai Zhenzhen looked at him and felt a tingle of unease.

He gave her the same skin-crawling vibe as Director Wang—like something not quite human.

Actually, it was even worse than Wang Yin.

Every time he tried to be nice to her, it just made her uncomfortable.

But at least he differed from Wang Yin in one critical way—

“This guy still hasn’t transferred me a single spirit coin.”

“Trash.”

When she answered, it was casually: “Just went for a walk. Warm-up.”

Suddenly, her brow furrowed and her right hand instinctively pressed against her lower abdomen.

The Divine Spirit Root had twitched inside her again, setting off a jolt of pain through her dantian and meridians.

Wen Wuya asked with concern, “Zhenzhen, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

She replied, hand on her stomach, “Nothing serious. Just bumped myself during warm-up.”

“Want me to get you a painkiller?”

She waved him off. “No need. It’ll pass.”

“Let’s go. The match is about to start.”

…

At the construction site on the 667th floor—

Yu Xinghan noticed Zhang Yu had returned at some point.

Seeing Zhang Yu looking so refreshed after returning the Divine Spirit Root, Yu Xinghan found it oddly familiar.

He smirked. “Ah, I get it. Went off to ‘relax,’ huh?”

Just then, the first round of the Flying Sword Tournament kicked off, drawing attention from thousands—including Yu Xinghan.

Together with Ying Xin and Zhang Yu, he kept working on the site while watching the Law Husk livestream.

This match wasn’t held within Wanfa University City, but thousands of meters up in the sky.

Each team’s competitors stood atop cloud platforms floating in raging wind, aiming to hit targets eighty kilometers away using flying swords.

Ying Xin marveled, “If your flying sword can hit something 80 kilometers out… yeah, you’re definitely not poor.”

Zhang Yu knew that the Heavenly Sword Sect had deployed 84,000 Sky-Piercing Flying Swords across the second floor of Kunxu, building a Spiritual Realm Network that allowed them to control swords remotely for long-range strikes.

“But how are the other sects pulling it off?”