No Money to Cultivate Immortality?
Chapter 91: Level 10, Side Hustle

Behind the teaching building, in a small garden.

With each swift, forceful movement, Zhang Yu practiced the Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike step by step.

Just then, a teacher suddenly appeared from nearby and barked, “What grade and class are you from? What’s your name? Why are you here during class time? Skipping class?”

Zhang Yu replied calmly, “I’m Zhang Yu from Class 1, Year One. I’m taking this time during math class to train my martial arts.”

At the mention of his name, the teacher’s aggressive tone immediately softened.

When he realized Zhang Yu was skipping math class, his stern expression vanished entirely.

Skipping math? That didn’t even count.

If you’ve never skipped a general studies class like math to cultivate the Immortal Dao, can you even call yourself a top student at Songyang High?

After confirming that Class 1, Year One did indeed have math at this hour, the teacher nodded and said, “There are 27 minutes left in the period. Make sure you get back after class ends. Don’t miss the next one.”

Once the teacher left, Zhang Yu silently resumed his practice of Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike.

Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike Lv. 9 (89/90)

The reason he didn’t train in the classroom was simple: this martial technique improved too fast. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

As he completed the final move, the skill instantly leveled up to 10.

In that moment, a surge of martial experience and training memories flooded Zhang Yu’s mind, elevating his understanding of Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike, grappling, and throws to a whole new height.

At the same time, he felt the 10th-level effect of the technique kick in.

When he used it again, he could clearly sense the position of his own center of gravity.

Zhang Yu realized that, if he chose to, he could also perceive the opponent’s center of gravity—and with the technique’s methods, instantly disrupt it and slam them to the ground.

“Got it—trip anyone, and they’ll fall.”

“A pure, combat-oriented martial art, just as expected.”

“And it actually works really well with my Limitless Cloud Hands and Indelible Seal Technique?”

Streams of white astral qi burst from his palms. With both Limitless Cloud Hands and Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike now at level 10, Zhang Yu could vaguely feel the potential to combine the two techniques.

“By using formless cloud qi to replace the explosive force from the hands, I can perform grapples and throws from a distance.”

A sudden insight flashed through Zhang Yu’s mind. “Though Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike relies purely on brute physical strength, that’s not a weakness—it’s a strength.”

“Because that means, in the future, practitioners can blend all kinds of force into it—whether astral qi, palm strikes, or punches.”

“This technique is like a giant framework that can house countless battle skills…”

In this moment, Zhang Yu recognized the long-term vision behind Song Hailong training in Back-Dragon Mountain-Flipping Strike. It wasn’t just practical for him now—it was laying the foundation for his future combat growth.

“Not sure if he came up with this himself, or if it was designed by his family or private tutors.”

…

Dinner time.

In the cafeteria.

Every student was devouring their meal with earnest—after all, whether you attended one of the Three Great Academies, a top-tier high school, or just an average one, not a single student was casual about food.

Yet there was a faint, lingering resentment hanging over the cafeteria today.

A grudge against the food.

Bai Zhenzhen walked through the cafeteria hall with her tray. Despite her stunning looks, her icy expression made most students too intimidated to approach.

As soon as she sat down, she began to complain: “Half the food stalls have switched to selling synthetic meals, and the rest of the precooked dishes all went up in price. These bastards!”

Clearly, with Oasis Group on the rise, synthetic food was being pushed aggressively throughout Songyang City—so much so that it had quietly infiltrated the high school cafeteria.

Bai Zhenzhen turned to Zhao Tianxing and Qian Shen. “We absolutely cannot buy synthetic food. We have to boycott it hard—make them bleed losses!”

“Synthetic food isn’t even real food.”

“Who knows what kind of crap they’re putting in it…”

As she was ranting, Zhang Yu approached with a huge tray of mush-like food and sat down, prompting the trio to stare at him in shock.

Bai Zhenzhen exclaimed, “Yuzi! Why are you eating that stuff? Weren’t you totally against synthetic food?”

Zhang Yu replied matter-of-factly, “The cafeteria’s doing a promotion today. Free samples of synthetic food.”

Bai Zhenzhen immediately stood up. “I’ve got to see how bad this synthetic food really is.”

She headed over to the synthetic food stall, where a cafeteria auntie was enthusiastically explaining: “This is meat paste, this is veggie paste, this is rice paste. After picking those, you can choose your flavor—Mapo tofu, Kung Pao chicken, seafood hot pot…”

A while later, Bai Zhenzhen returned with a free sample tray. After one bite, she looked visibly stunned. “This is synthetic food?”

No one knew what kind of Immortal Dao tech had been used, but the taste, aroma—even the texture—were shockingly close to actual precooked dishes, with about 70–80% similarity.

She clearly remembered the auntie scooping up various types of mush, but once mixed with flavor packets, they mimicked real food textures—some like fatty meat, some like leafy greens, some like fish…

This wasn’t even in the same league as the synthetic food she’d had before.

“Has Immortal Dao tech made a breakthrough?”

Zhang Yu mused beside her, “These big companies never sell at a loss. If they’re rolling this out to compete with precooked food, they must be confident.”

“It tastes good, it’s convenient, and it’s cheap. Before long, there’ll probably be fewer and fewer places selling regular precooked dishes in Songyang City.”

Zhao Tianxing sighed, “That means a lot of precooked food factories will go bankrupt. A lot of people are going to lose their jobs…”

As they ate and chatted, Zhang Yu noticed that both Qian Shen and Zhao Tianxing seemed troubled. He asked them about it.

Qian Shen sighed and explained how he, Zhao Tianxing, and three other freshmen had been recruited into the competition team.

With an embarrassed look, Qian Shen said, “We scored lower than you guys, but we got in first. I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

Zhao Tianxing looked nervously at Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen too.

In school, whether or not someone made the competition team created yet another layer of hierarchy—enough to make even best friends turn on each other.

If a low scorer took a high scorer’s spot, that could trigger bullying so intense it might drive someone to jump off a roof.

Since gym class, Zhao Tianxing had been worried that Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen would take issue with this.

Especially because he really cared what others thought, Zhao Tianxing feared people might suspect him of underhanded tricks to snatch the spot.

But Zhang Yu just smiled and said, “It’s fine. We already know the Student Council rats were meddling behind the scenes.”

Then he explained the plan for a rematch in a month.

“From here on out, we all train hard. In a month, we’ll settle it based on our sports scores—whoever’s best gets the slot.”

Hearing this, and realizing the final decision would come down to grades after all, Qian Shen and Zhao Tianxing both let out a breath of relief.

They thought to themselves, “In the end, we high schoolers speak with our scores.”

…

After dinner, Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen left the school together to take the subway to White Dragon High.

On the way, Bai Zhenzhen said, “I’ve finalized things with Song Hailong. We’ll go twice a week, two hours each time. He’ll pay you 5,000 per session and me 2,000.”

Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up. “Five thousand per session, two sessions a week, that’s ten thousand a week! Forty thousand a month? Damn—rich people really are loaded.”

“But he also has a condition: if we train with him and lose every match within a two-hour session, then we’re fired.”

She turned to Zhang Yu and said, “So, Yuzi—can you handle it?”

Though Zhang Yu had defeated Song Hailong in the martial arts competition, that was thanks to the ring-out rule.

If his physical strength fell behind and Song widened the gap, it’d be even harder to win next time.

“Of course I can,” Zhang Yu replied. “That kid just relies on his thick skin and brute strength. Once I catch up to him physically, he won’t win a single round.”

“How about you though, Zhen?”

Bai Zhenzhen snorted and patted her belly. “I borrowed money from my godmother to rent a spirit root. Now I can cultivate every day. My speed of improvement… you might be in for a shock, Yuzi.”

Hearing “rent a spirit root,” Zhang Yu perked up with curiosity. “What kind of spirit root did you rent? Let me try it sometime.”

Bai Zhenzhen instinctively touched her stomach. “Let you try it?”

Zhang Yu said as if it were obvious, “We’re in this together, right? Can’t I try the spirit root you rented?”

Bai Zhenzhen frowned. “I’ll think about it.”

Inwardly she thought, “Can I even lend him my spirit root? Can I? It’s… not entirely impossible…”

Zhang Yu muttered, “So stingy. I let you mess with my ten-thousand-dollar Talisman Book all the time.”

Bai Zhenzhen snapped, “You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that! You only ever let me touch it. You never let me press anything!”

Zhang Yu sighed, “I’m just afraid you’ll press me into bankruptcy. Fine, I’ll let you play with it on the ride.”

They got on the subway and, by luck, managed to snag two seats.

Zhang Yu, urged on by his Ritual Contract, cultivated his Heart Method, racing against time to improve his Dao Heart.

Bai Zhenzhen leaned against him and curiously explored the Talisman Book.

Over half an hour later, they arrived at White Dragon High. After showing the monthly passes Song Hailong had arranged for them, they headed to the designated training room.

“Yuzi, look—they’re all kneeling in class. What the hell?”

“Who knows. Might be a White Dragon High tradition or something.”

When they opened the door to the training room, they saw Song Hailong already warming up.

The moment he spotted Zhang Yu, Song’s eyes lit up. He pointed to the floor and said, “Lie down.”