No Money to Cultivate Immortality?

True Lord Thunder was a being whose entire body gleamed like glass—no trace of flesh or blood could be seen upon him.

That was because ninety-nine percent of his body had been replaced with artifacts.

Countless spirit-energy conduits extended from the ground and walls, linking into his body to transmit torrents of spiritual energy and data.

Layer upon layer of array light veiled him completely, obscuring every detail.

It was said that True Lord Thunder had long stopped moving his physical body, remaining seated in his office year after year, venturing only with his divine sense through the Spiritual Realm to project avatars elsewhere.

But to Zhang Yu, the motionless figure before him looked less like a man and more like a statue in a temple.

Zhang Yu knew that True Lord Thunder followed the Artifact School of the Artifact Refinement Department—the old-fashioned faction Feng Tingting had mentioned before. They regarded flesh as obsolete and saw Law Husks as the true path forward, believing the human body should be wholly mechanized for the Immortal Dao’s evolution.

Zhang Yu had no opinion on that. His understanding of both the Immortal Dao and artifact refinement wasn’t deep enough to judge.

Right now, his concern was: “This True Lord Thunder doesn’t have some kind of flesh-body discrimination problem, does he?”

He recalled several instances of discrimination he had faced after joining the Artifact Refinement Department—either for his background in Civil Engineering or simply because he still used his original human body.“In the Artifact Refinement Department, the Law Husk faction discriminates against those with flesh bodies; those with more advanced Law Husks look down on those with cheaper ones; and the Artifact faction discriminates against everyone else.”

“Could this True Lord Thunder be withholding my project payment just because he despises me?”

As such thoughts flickered through his mind, True Lord Thunder spoke.

His glass-like face did not move, yet a resonant vibration in the air formed words that reached Zhang Yu’s ears.

“Zhang Yu, is it? What do you want?”

Zhang Yu smiled politely. “It’s about the project payment, True Lord…”

“I told you before not to come asking again,” True Lord Thunder said coldly.

“True Lord, our company is small,” Zhang Yu explained. “Cash flow is tight, and I’ve been paying the staff out of my own pocket…”

“Every contractor fronts money,” Thunder cut him off flatly. “Why can’t you? If you can handle it, work. If you can’t, then leave.”

Zhang Yu blinked, wondering how to mention his status as True Lord Ciji’s new disciple—lest this become a case of allies turning on each other—when Thunder continued, “I know you’re True Lord Ciji’s new disciple.”

“But everyone who comes here must follow the same rules.”

“Uncle…” Zhang Yu began.

“Who told you to call me that?” Thunder’s voice boomed like thunder, leaving Zhang Yu’s head spinning. “Nepotism is exactly what’s wrong with Wanfa University. Everything here follows procedure. You’ll get your payment when it’s due—no sooner, no later.”

“Now leave. You’re distracting me.”

Zhang Yu walked out of the office, fuming. “Is this True Lord Thunder really that incorruptible? Does Kunxu actually have such unyielding leaders?”

“Should I ask Master for help?”

He shook his head. Without understanding the full picture, it was best not to act rashly. Who knew what kind of relationship his master had with this True Lord Thunder—or what hidden interests might be involved?

To gather information, three names came to mind: Zhang Pianpian, Feng Tingting from the Artifact Department, and Senior Sister Ye Xingli.

Before long, replies appeared on his EyeNet.

The first to respond was Feng Tingting.

Feng Tingting: You didn’t seriously go there in your original flesh body, did you?

Zhang Yu: Of course. It’s the only one I’ve got.

Feng Tingting: True Lord Thunder’s one of the most hardline artifact supremacists in the department.

Feng Tingting: Even if a dog walked past his class, it’d have to wear an artifact collar.

Feng Tingting: You went in with a body of flesh and blood—of course he’d hate the sight of you.

Reading her message, Zhang Yu sighed. So Thunder really was a flesh-body bigot.

After he thanked her, Feng Tingting added:

Zhang Yu, when are we going to co-rent a lab? Let’s refine some artifacts together.

Feng Tingting: Ever since I started studying Civil Engineering, fewer and fewer people in Artifact Refinement want to talk to me…

Zhang Yu felt a pang of sympathy—they were both outcasts in the department, branded with invisible labels.

Just then, Ye Xingli messaged him.

Ye Xingli: Did you pay him?

Zhang Yu: …Pay him?

Ye Xingli: I don’t know if the Civil Engineering Department spoiled you or if you’re just naïve.

Ye Xingli: The Artifact Department may only have a few labs, but each project involves money—and money has to be divided.

Ye Xingli: So many projects, so many payments—who gets paid first, who gets more or less—how do you think that’s decided?

Zhang Yu: So I should just pay True Lord Thunder directly?

Ye Xingli: Thunder is rigidly upright. He’ll never take it himself.

Ye Xingli: [Bian Hao] — he’s Thunder’s student. Go talk to him.

Zhang Yu looked at the contact she sent and thought grimly, “So in the end, it is about money.”

He added Bian Hao, explained his situation, and after a bit of small talk, received a donation link.

“Public Welfare Laboratory?” Zhang Yu frowned at the page. “Ten spirit coins?”

“Damn it… my pre-tax project total is just over twenty coins. After paying staff and taxes, I barely clear a dozen—and they want ten of that?!”

Taking a deep breath, he forced down his irritation and asked if the amount could be reduced.

Bian Hao: Junior, it’s not up to me.

Bian Hao: The others are donating a lot—if you give less, your name won’t even make the list.

Bian Hao: And if you’re off the list, you’ll have paid for nothing.

Bian Hao: Honestly, if you won’t donate, there are plenty of others who will.

Zhang Yu rolled his eyes. “So even this is competitive now?”

He stared at the ten-coin link, mentally tallying his income and expenses.

His main monthly income came from his lab subsidy—forty spirit coins. Then thirty from reimbursements under True Lord Ciji and Director Gao’s company, another ten or so from his sister’s repayments, and ten more from Wen Wuya’s subscription.

He’d thought these artifact-refinement construction projects would become a steady new income source—but now it seemed they were more trouble than they were worth.

“Unbelievable,” Zhang Yu muttered. “I make forty coins a month through scams, thirty through connections, ten from family loans, ten from patron tips… and the projects I actually work hardest on earn the least.”

He even considered quitting Artifact Refinement projects altogether—but that wasn’t realistic. Too many people in his company depended on him, and though he earned well, his expenses were enormous. Every project counted.

“Still,” he sighed, “to qualify as an Artifact Genius, I have to grind through these refinements to level my techniques.”

“To get ten artifact techniques to level twenty in a few months… that’s like mastering ten Dao Techniques to the same level.”

“Even among Dao Techniques students, few could afford to burn this much money.”

Most artifact students only specialized in one or two areas and hired others for the rest—like when True Lord Ziyun once paid him to use the Dragonvein Treasurecasting Sutra to enhance the Five Elements Banner.

“If this were just about money, I could manage. But now I also need to prepare for the military-grade artifact project.”

Once he completed the requirements for the Artifact Genius title, he’d begin developing the prototype for Heaven-Sun Radiant God, a military-grade artifact.

The expenses would be staggering—from early research and materials to equipment and lab rental.

He’d already estimated with Fu Ji that it would take at least 300 spirit coins—possibly 500 after inevitable mistakes and overruns.

And when had a project ever not exceeded budget?

The more he thought about his upcoming expenses, the more desperate he felt to earn.

“People say a thousand spirit coins is enough to reach Gold Core, but if I want to win the Top Ten League and break into the great sects, an ordinary Gold Core won’t cut it.”

As he pondered, a message from his sister Zhang Pianpian appeared.

Zhang Pianpian: That True Lord Thunder’s been delaying project payments for ages. Bankrupted plenty of companies—turned hundreds into soul cultivators.

Zhang Yu: So… there’s no solution?

Zhang Pianpian: If this were a few hundred years ago, I’d tell you to give up.

Zhang Pianpian: But in this era, as long as he’s still part of the Kunxu system—still within the university hierarchy—it means even a Nascent Soul True Lord must follow the rules.

Zhang Pianpian: Within the rules, he can crush you and you can’t say a word.

Zhang Pianpian: But if he steps outside them—then even a Nascent Soul True Lord will be struck by thunder.

Zhang Yu frowned. “You’re saying… he might have crossed the line?”

Zhang Pianpian: I haven’t confirmed it yet, but based on what I’ve found, there’s definitely something fishy under him.

Zhang Yu: Why do you think that?

Zhang Pianpian: Haven’t you wondered—if all those other companies paid even more than you, how did they make their money back?”

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