No Money to Cultivate Immortality?
Chapter 64: Passing the Assessment, Heading to Songyang

“Zhang Yu!”

“Zhang Yu!”

“Zhang Yu!”

Amidst the repeated calls, Zhang Yu jolted awake, only to hear bursts of laughter in the classroom.

Looking up at the podium, he saw the teacher glaring at him coldly. “Get out and stand in the hallway.”

Zhang Yu stood up helplessly and walked out of the classroom.

The monotonous cycle of high school life brought him no hope.

His grades were slipping, his ranking plunging. He’d fallen from the model class to the worst one, and whether classmates or teachers, everyone looked at him like he was a pile of trash.

Meanwhile, the various Cultivation Loans he had taken on for the sake of pursuing the Immortal Path kept piling up, burying him in suffocating pressure.

Just as he was about to take that final step, his phone rang.

Zhang Yu answered it and heard a voice on the other end say, “Hello? Is this Mr. Zhang Yu? We’ve just launched a new cemetery project in the northern suburbs. Only two hundred thousand for posthumous corpse-refining services—there’s even a chance at a second life!”

Zhang Yu burst out laughing. “Your big data predictions are seriously impressive. You even guessed I was about to jump? Too bad you didn’t predict that I’m flat broke and can’t afford your grave.”

The caller continued, “If you’re broke, wouldn’t you want to turn things around? Our company has a Heaven-Patching Program. If you're interested, I can send you the details…”

Zhang Yu hung up and returned his gaze to the abyss-like darkness below.

“Turn things around…”

After a moment of silence, he eventually opened his phone again and checked the site the caller had sent him.

A teddy bear appeared on screen and began to speak.

“Make a wish to the deity.”

“As long as you set up the ritual for me, I’ll grant all your desires in five minutes.”

“Completely free, zero barriers, absolutely no hidden fees.”

“Just one click, and your life will be reborn…”

As he stared at it, Zhang Yu felt something churning—some kind of painful memory darting around in his mind, just out of reach.

It was the rage of being constantly forced, constantly tormented, constantly shoved into bitter submission.

And before those memories could fully surface, his emotions and instincts acted first.

“F***!” Zhang Yu roared, hurling his phone with all his strength before flipping it off with a middle finger. “Hahaha, trying to scam me?”

“Try again in your next life!”

Zhang Yu’s consciousness flickered—and the next moment, he woke up back in the classroom.

But the memories and emotions about the Evil God were growing stronger and clearer, until he finally recalled something.

“I remember now… I’m in the middle of an assessment to become a Divine Assistant.”

“And this test… seems to be related to the Evil God?”

Feeling like he had grasped the crux of the assessment, Zhang Yu decided to put on a good show.

…

Sun Jiayi was deeply proud.

Because he wasn’t human—he was a deity.

Though merely one of the 480 million minor deities in the Inspectorate Department, he was still a god, and had the authority to judge mortals.

Sure, he was only reviewing assessments for outsourced jobs that paid 14 yuan per hour, but he took his duties seriously and never slacked off.

That was what it meant to be a god.

A god never forgets Kunxu’s burden.

At this moment, screen after glowing screen floated before Sun Jiayi, each replaying the assessments of different candidates.

These were instinctive response tests conducted in the Spiritual Realm, where candidates faced the temptations of Evil Gods.

Passing or failing the test to become an outsourced worker in the Inspectorate Department hinged on whether the candidate could resist such temptations.

“This candidate from Taitian City… What’s with listing all your family assets and background on your resume?”

“So you’re worth over a hundred million? Doesn’t matter. If you can’t pass, you can’t pass. Did you think I’d bend the rules because of your rich parents?”

Sun Jiayi sneered, unmoved, and upon seeing the candidate hesitate in the illusion, directly marked him as failed.

“Unsteady willpower. Disqualified.”

As a proud deity, the more privileged the candidates he disqualified, the more satisfied he felt—proof of his divine impartiality.

His focus shifted to the next candidate, from Hong’an City.

This resume was packed with accolades from grades ten and eleven. A top student, frequent competition winner, prodigious talent, glowing potential—future disciple of a major sect.

But after watching the candidate struggle in the illusion for a full ten minutes before finally rejecting the Evil God’s offer, Sun Jiayi showed no mercy and also marked him failed.

“Hmph. Thought your shiny résumé would win my favor? I’m not one of those score-obsessed mortals.”

“Even if you’re a college genius, if I say you fail, you fail.”

“Took that long to refuse? Clearly lacking in willpower. Unqualified.”

He turned his attention again—this time to Zhang Yu’s profile and assessment footage.

“Hmm. He threw the phone off the rooftop without hesitation. Not bad.”

“Let’s see how he handles a harder challenge.”

The footage cycled rapidly through various scenarios, each presenting Zhang Yu with a new form of temptation from the Evil God.

There was a beauty confessing her feelings and asking Zhang Yu to wish alongside her. He kicked her away without hesitation and bolted.

He was cornered and being hunted, the Evil God offering salvation. Zhang Yu scoffed, hurled the Evil God plushie at his pursuers, and shouted, “Great stuff! Make your wish to this thing!”

A massive ragdoll loomed over him, radiating terror, demanding a contract. Zhang Yu ran while dialing the authorities and even tried charging the Evil God once the enforcers arrived.

But… Sun Jiayi had already stopped watching. Someone had just contacted him.

Seeing Zhang Pianpian’s name pop up, along with her acting position as Deputy Captain of the Songyang City Inspectorate Division, he frowned slightly. “What can I do for you, colleague?”

Zhang Pianpian replied, “There’s a candidate named Zhang Yu. I hope…”

Sun Jiayi raised a hand, ready to refuse, when she suddenly activated her lu shu and cast a sigil.

“You dare use a sigil across the Spiritual Realm on me, a divine assessor?” he bellowed.

“You’ve got some nerve!”

But when he recognized the specific sigil, his demeanor relaxed.

“A Favor Charm?!”

The Favor Charm—a spell that boosts divine favor. It doesn’t need the deity’s name, identity, or even account number. It works as long as the charm is cast during direct contact, instantly transferring money and hiding the transaction record.

Realizing what she’d used, Sun Jiayi visibly relaxed.

“Didn’t expect a mere mortal from the lower world to know such refined charms. You even learned the Favor Charm?”

When he saw his account balance tick upward, his expression melted into a smile. “For a high school student to revere the gods like this—truly a devout heart.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Zhang Pianpian wasn’t surprised.

With two years of using lu shu and studying sigils, she knew well: belief levels could be bought, sigils could be bought, divine tutoring could be bought…

In short, sigils were just microtransactions!

Of course, recharging the gods required skill—via lu shu, private transfers, public gifts, Favor Charms… Each method was a different tier. It all came down to your charm-casting proficiency.

“I’d like this deity to lower the assessment difficulty for Zhang Yu… just a little.”

Sun Jiayi waved it off. “Tch, it’s a 14-yuan-per-hour job. How hard can the test be?”

…

Back in the illusion—

Zhang Yu stared at the white room before him, eyes full of confusion.

Floating in the center of the room was a message: “The Evil God tempts you. Do you accept?”

Below were two options: Yes or No.

Come on… This was clearly a trap question.

It looked too simple—so much so that Zhang Yu couldn’t bring himself to choose.

After thinking about it for ten full minutes and still detecting no hidden catch, Zhang Yu nervously selected “No.”

The next moment, a notice appeared: Assessment Passed.

Completely baffled, Zhang Yu exited the Spiritual Realm, still unsure what had just happened.

At that moment, his phone rang.

He picked up—Zhang Pianpian’s voice came through. “You passed, right?”

Zhang Yu immediately voiced his confusion.

Zhang Pianpian explained, “Oh, I sent some money to the deity overseeing your test, asked him to ease up the difficulty a bit.”

A bit?

That was a god!

Zhang Yu was stunned. “You can bribe gods with money?”

Zhang Pianpian: “Of course not.”

Zhang Yu was about to sigh in relief when she continued, “Money just gives you a chance to bribe them. The outcome depends on how much, and how well you spend it. That’s where sigil skill comes in.”

Zhang Yu: “But… they’re gods!”

“In Kunxu, gods get things done with money,” Zhang Pianpian said matter-of-factly. “Without money, how do the Eight Divine Ministries run Kunxu? How do they govern the realm?”

Zhang Yu was speechless again. His understanding of Kunxu had just deepened.

Remembering what she’d said earlier, Zhang Yu asked, “Didn’t you say the assessment was about Dao Heart and willpower?”

Zhang Pianpian calmly replied, “Yeah, you need enough Dao Heart and enough willpower to… hold out until I can find the divine assessor responsible for your test and send them a bribe via sigil.”

She added, “Alright, I’ve brought your work badge and lu shu out. Let’s meet at your school gate.”

“Now… we can talk to Songyang High’s Student Council.”

So Zhang Yu, utterly exhausted, squeezed onto a crowded bus. An hour and a half later, he arrived at the school stop and spotted Zhang Pianpian waiting by the road from a distance.

She handed him a black-and-white booklet, resembling a manual.

“This is your lu shu. You get one free sigil use per day, and sigil learning from the Inspectorate Department is discounted…”

She pointed to the strange symbol on the lu shu and explained, “This is the Inspectorate’s emblem. If you run into trouble, flash it.”

Zhang Yu carefully cradled the booklet and thought, “So this is a lu shu… Even the cheapest one costs nearly a hundred thousand, right?”

The lu shu was key to learning sigils, and sigils directly affected Dao Technique grades in high school. Zhang Yu had even heard of students pawning off organs just to afford one.

“They really hand these out on day one? The Inspectorate must be loaded.”

“If Ah-Zhen saw this, she’d drop to her knees and call me Dad—beg me just to let her play with it!”