No Money to Cultivate Immortality?
Chapter 65: Upperclassmen

Songyang High School.

The students of Class 1, Grade 10 trickled into the training hall, preparing for today’s Martial Combat class.

As she walked, Bai Zhenzhen muttered inwardly, “What’s Yuzi up to? I can’t reach him at all.”

“Sick leave? Since when do high schoolers get sick leave?”

“Don’t tell me he’s already caved?”

While Bai Zhenzhen let her thoughts wander, she suddenly noticed that the training hall was already crowded—not just with their Martial Arts instructor, Lei Jun, but also with a large group of unfamiliar students.

Her eyes locked onto the tallest among them, and she froze. “Is that the Doorframe Guy?”

Glancing again at the students gathered around Lan Ling, Bai Zhenzhen recognized them instantly. They were all from Grade 11.

With an extra year of cultivation under their belts, the Grade 11 students had bulked up noticeably. Most of their secondary sexual characteristics had already faded, and the exposed skin on their arms was riddled with puncture marks…

Every trace screamed of how hard—and how effectively—these students had trained.

Of course, Bai Zhenzhen wasn’t the only one who recognized them.

Soon, a few students took the initiative to greet the Grade 11 group.

Zhao Tianxing was first to step forward. He bowed to Instructor Lei Jun, then turned and gave the Grade 11 students a deeply respectful bow. “Greetings, seniors!”

Despite his three-hundred-pound frame, Zhao Tianxing standing before Lan Ling looked like nothing more than a corgi.

Only after Lan Ling gave a faint nod did Zhao Tianxing carefully retreat.

This was the natural hierarchy of high school—juniors deferring to seniors.

The difference of a single year—Grade 10 to Grade 11 to Grade 12—meant a full year of extra cultivation, and often a crushing disparity in strength.

So much so that students often referred to the grades as Early, Mid, and Late Qi Refining Realm stages, highlighting the gulf between them.

At Songyang High School, juniors were expected to greet seniors proactively. They didn’t sit unless their seniors did. Even at the urinals, juniors had to let seniors go first. And when sharing a room for injection treatments, juniors waited their turn.

These customs had long become second nature to students.

Still, Songyang was more humane than the Three Great Academies. At White Dragon High, rumor had it seniors could even force juniors to kneel and kowtow.

Thankfully, the vast differences in curriculum and facilities—and the crushing academic workload—meant that juniors and seniors rarely crossed paths.

Which was, frankly, a blessing.

Back in the training hall, each new student who entered bowed respectfully to Lan Ling and the others.

Which only made one person stand out all the more.

Zhao Tianxing nervously watched Bai Zhenzhen, who still hadn’t greeted the seniors. “What is Ah-Zhen doing? The seniors are going to notice.”

Sure enough, several of the Grade 11 students were already glancing her way. Just imagining himself in her shoes made Zhao Tianxing break out in cold sweat.

Once the entire class was assembled, Lei Jun addressed them.

“Today, your seniors from Class 1, Grade 11 have taken time out of their schedule to provide you with some hands-on sparring guidance. Let’s give them a warm round of applause!”

What? We’re getting beat up by Grade 11 prodigies?

The students erupted into excited applause. “Thank you, seniors!”

One overachiever was already grinning. “These are the demonstration-class elites from Grade 11. If you wanted to hire them for private sparring, it’d cost over a thousand per session!”

Some of the more ambitious students couldn’t wait. “Getting pointers from seniors like these—even if it means a broken arm, it’d be worth it!”

Qian Shen kept his eyes locked on Lan Ling, the tall, doorframe-like figure. “Lan Ling—second overall in Grade 11 last month. First place in athletics. The star of the Grade 11 martial team. But…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Qian Shen turned away. “Cross-grade rankings are meaningless. Any one of these elite seniors is unbeatable for us. Makes no difference who we face.”

He Dayou merely nodded at the seniors in polite acknowledgment. As the school board director’s son, he was familiar with most of the academic stars in both Grade 11 and 12.

Lei Jun, observing the eager expressions all around, was quite pleased.

“Very good. You’re all fired up.”

“Dao Techniques are money burners. The more you spend, the stronger you get.”

“But for martial arts, if you want to improve—you’ve got to take hits. The less afraid you are of losing, of pain, of humiliation, the faster your combat skills will soar.”

“It’s only through getting beaten down again and again, crawling back up each time, that you sharpen real fighting experience.”

As a few students raised their hands, practically bursting with anticipation, Lei Jun prepared to pick sparring partners—only for Lan Ling to lean in and whisper something.

Nodding, Lei Jun’s eyes drifted toward Bai Zhenzhen, who was hiding at the back of the crowd.

“Bai Zhenzhen, you’ll go first. Give the others a demonstration.”

He added, “Lan Ling, Bai Zhenzhen is our top Grade 10 combat prospect. Give her some quality guidance.”

Lan Ling, casually pumping a barbell with one hand, walked over and smiled warmly. “Let’s spar, junior.”

Bai Zhenzhen’s face darkened. Under the envious stares of her classmates, she slowly stepped forward—while cursing him to hell and back in her mind.

That damn plank-faced shrimp-head. Obviously out to settle a score over the contract thing. Using this as an excuse to beat up a junior girl, huh?

She knew this “sparring match” would be anything but simple. He was going to use it as a chance to punish her.

Strike first!

The moment she stepped onto the field, Bai Zhenzhen lunged forward and launched a kick straight at Lan Ling’s dantian.

But he didn’t even try to dodge. Her foot slammed into him with a loud thud—

—and nothing happened.

Lan Ling didn’t flinch. He didn’t even take a step back. It was like her kick had hit a slab of granite.

On the other hand, Bai Zhenzhen felt like her foot had cracked open.

Is the gap between us really that huge?

She tried to retreat—but found her ankle caught in a vice-like grip.

Lan Ling held her ankle, smiling. “You’re underestimating me, junior.”

As they clashed, Lei Jun narrated from the sidelines.

“Nice ambush! Remember this—surprise attacks are a deep art. One of the best ways to beat someone stronger.”

“But Bai Zhenzhen doesn’t know Lan Ling well enough.”

“He underwent the full ‘Absolute’ sterilization procedure ages ago. His body lacks all sexual traits and hormonal influence, and he’s rid of most conventional weaknesses…”

“Now that Lan Ling’s got her locked down, it’s over. Her body strength’s only around 1.4, while his is over 6. Once caught, she can’t escape…”

Halfway through the commentary, a thunderous boom erupted at Lei Jun’s feet—he shot forward like a bolt of lightning.

At the same time, a deafening crack exploded through the air.

Everyone stared in shock as Bai Zhenzhen’s body flew across the hall, trailing afterimages, slamming toward the wall.

But just before she crashed headfirst, Lei Jun appeared behind her, and together they shattered the wall and flew out of the training hall with a mighty boom.

A moment later, Lei Jun limped back in, supporting a dazed Bai Zhenzhen, his face dark with displeasure.

“That was too much,” he said coldly.

Bai Zhenzhen was one of the top martial students in Grade 10. If she were seriously injured, it would hit his performance metrics.

Lan Ling gave a mild smile. “I trust that with you here, teacher, nothing serious will happen.”

“And this was the perfect chance to teach her a lesson about underestimating an opponent.”

Turning to Bai Zhenzhen, he added, “You’ll remember this bit of combat experience, right? Shall we continue?”

Seeing him extend another challenge, Bai Zhenzhen’s eyes burned with fury. A long-suppressed power surged within her, ready to break free.

No! I can’t reveal it here. If I do, it’s all over…

Lei Jun started to intervene—but Lan Ling shot him a look that froze him in place.

“I’ll be careful, teacher,” Lan Ling said.

Lei Jun had suspected something, but now he was sure.

This had the student council’s fingerprints all over it—especially after their earlier demand to bar Bai Zhenzhen and Zhang Yu from the martial tournament.

Thinking of Songyang High’s student council, Lei Jun could only sigh. “This is my class. Don’t take it too far.”

Lan Ling kept smiling. “Don’t worry, teacher. Bai Zhenzhen’s a high-value student. I won’t let her get seriously hurt.”

Around them, the other Grade 10 students were starting to sense that something was off, though they still didn’t understand what.

He Dayou’s eyes narrowed. As the school board’s heir, he saw it clearly—this was a move to suppress Bai Zhenzhen. A contract dispute, perhaps? Were they trying to lower her market value?

He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret that Zhang Yu wasn’t here today. That penniless clown might’ve made a great spectacle of himself.

Just then, a voice rang out from the entrance of the training hall.

“Hey. You bullying my intern?”

Everyone turned in surprise as Zhang Yu strolled through the doorway. He raised his right hand, his fingertip tracing rapidly over a black-and-white talisman script.

Restraint Sigil—activate!

In the blink of an eye, golden light exploded around Lan Ling. Countless golden hands surged forth to grab him.

Before he could react, nine of them slammed down—on his head, shoulders, arms, legs, and waist—pinning him in place.

“A Restraint Sigil?”

“Zhang Yu—where’d that broke-ass guy even get a talisman book for that?”

Feeling the nine golden hands crushing down on him, trying to force him to the ground, Lan Ling’s expression twisted in fury.