Compared to the tense standoff he’d first had with the Evil God, Zhang Yu was now much more at ease with Fu Ji. You could even say he’d gotten used to carrying this thing around with him.

Of course, that was in no small part thanks to Fu Ji’s repeated gestures of humility—and her constant attempts to demonstrate her value, like an investor trying to win over a promising startup.

At this moment, after stashing away the Great Sun Qi Sea, Zhang Yu asked her, “Do you have any technique recommendations?”

Fu Ji had clearly been prepared for this.

After all, she’d been watching Zhang Yu up close for so long that she’d already formed clear ideas about his strengths, his future direction, and which paths might suit him best.

“You practiced the Soul-Stabilizing Oxheart Technique before, didn’t you?” Fu Ji said.

“There’s actually an upgraded version of that technique. It’s an expert-grade Heart Technique suitable for mid-stage Qi Refining. It’s called the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique.”

Despite the Soul-Stabilizing Oxheart Technique’s abysmal 1.2-star rating, Zhang Yu had always found it effective.

Now, hearing that there was an upgraded version, he immediately looked it up.

He began reading the technique’s description in detail.

Worried your employees eat irregularly? Have unhealthy sleep habits? Get hurt from sitting or standing too long?

Concerned their work environment might be toxic? Worried prolonged drug use is frying their brains? Worried their organs are taking a beating?

Just have them cultivate the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique, and you’ll never have to think about workplace injury compensation again!

No matter how much physical damage work causes, your employees will remain upbeat and optimistic—no more concerns over staff health!

Even with all the experience Zhang Yu had accumulated in Kunxu, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer absurdity baked into this technique.

He scrolled further and saw its 1.1-star rating. Zhang Yu couldn’t help but sigh—clearly the platform didn’t allow zero-star reviews, or else this technique might’ve scored something near rock bottom.

Even though he’d once cultivated the Soul-Stabilizing Oxheart Technique, he still couldn’t help but ask, “Is this Sacrificial Oxheart Technique really legit?”

Fu Ji’s clear voice echoed in his mind.

“This technique teaches you to find joy in pain—mental bliss to counter physical suffering,” she said.

“The original intent was to help cultivators who’d become disabled remain determined and hopeful. It was designed to inspire the hopeless at the very bottom.”

Zhang Yu blinked. “So… this was made for cultivators who couldn’t afford medical treatment?”

Fu Ji replied smoothly, “Yes. But it works for non-disabled cultivators too.”

“After all, physical pain is part of any cultivator’s life. This technique helps numb that pain.”

“And once you cultivate it to Level 10, it reduces mental strain, boosts metabolism, accelerates healing, and even strengthens the body.”

“It’s one of the few Heart Techniques during the Qi Refining Realm that actually affects the body itself.”

“Plus, it works through internal visualization alone, which also helps strengthen your Dao Heart. Perfect for your around-the-clock cultivation schedule.”

Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up. “That good?”

Fu Ji beamed like a child showing off a new toy. “Obviously! I’ve roamed Kunxu for years. Would I ever recommend a dud?”

Zhang Yu thought for a moment, then added the Sacrificial Oxheart Technique to his favorites.

Interestingly, despite the low rating, it had sold well—and was priced at 30,000.

A quick glance at user reviews showed it was practically required for high-risk jobs in factories, construction sites, labs, and more. Anyone wanting to apply for those jobs had no choice but to learn it.

Zhang Yu let out a faint sigh.

A technique originally designed to give disabled cultivators hope had ended up forcing healthy cultivators into dangerous workplaces—until they became disabled too.

“Sigh… that’s Kunxu for you.”

…

Cafeteria.

With two Heart Techniques now picked out, Zhang Yu began preparing his application for an intercity travel permit.

Spoon in one hand, stirring the slop in his bowl, he scrolled through the list of application requirements.

Academic history, bank deposits, financial statements… he figured he could take care of most of it with some time and effort.

The tricky part was housing.

“No homeownership means you need a rental contract.”

“Didn’t think I’d come full circle just to end up renting a place.”

At that moment, Bai Zhenzhen sat down with her tray, visibly annoyed. “They cut the prefab meal windows again.”

She’d planned to treat herself to a bigger portion of prefab dishes to celebrate placing in the tournament.

But when she got there, she found half the windows gone—and less than a third of the usual variety available.

She looked around and realized most students were already eating synthetic food. Prefab meals were becoming rarer by the day.

Bai Zhenzhen sighed inwardly. “Sigh… I guess prefab meals are going extinct. Should I just go ahead and get that taste-removal surgery?”

Next to her, Zhao Tianxing overheard and joined in the sighing. “Ever since Oasis Group entered Songyang, most prefab vendors have been wiped out. Synthetic food’s just too cheap.”

“What about Red Tower Pasture?” Zhang Yu asked. “They’re big in prefab food. Are they affected too?”

Zhao Tianxing replied, “After teaming up with Oasis Group, they started going upscale. Launched some kind of dragon meat line…”

Zhang Yu thought of those prodigies from Red Tower High who carried true dragon bloodlines. Had Red Tower really started pumping dragon blood into cows and sheep?

Wasn’t that dragon blood from one of Red Tower’s own board members?

The whole thing felt like their top brass were selling off their own flesh, bloodline, and descendants just to make money.

“Well… it’s Kunxu,” Zhang Yu mused. “Bosses will sell anything if it turns a profit.”

Just then, Qian Shen asked curiously, “You’re looking to rent a place?”

Zhang Yu nodded. “I need to leave Songyang for something, and the intercity permit requires a rental contract.”

“Annoying part is, the place can’t be a sewer flat or a worksite dorm.”

Qian Shen offered, “My dad has a few apartments for rent. I’ll ask him. You know a lot of people now—why not post about it in your feed? Someone might have a spare place and give you a deal, especially with your grades.”

Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up. “Yeah… I do know a bunch of rich kids now. Bet their families have empty places.”

He immediately posted to his social feed looking for a rental.

A moment later, his phone buzzed—but instead of rental leads, it was a message from Mo Tianyi.

Mo Tianyi: Congrats on beating Yu Xinghan and taking first place in the physical tournament.

Zhang Yu raised an eyebrow at the soul cultivator from the Alliance of the Resentful Poor. Bit of a surprise.

“They cut contact with us after we signed with Zhang Pianpian. Why the sudden outreach?”

Then came the second message: Our boss wants to meet you. Got time?

Zhang Yu was startled. The elusive boss of the poor kids—the one he and Bai Zhenzhen had desperately tried to track down—was now reaching out to him?

Just then, Fu Ji spoke up. “Don’t meet him.”

She explained, “From what you and Bai Zhenzhen said before, this guy might be that Evil God’s disciple. All his people signed school contracts. No regular person could pull off that double-deal: promise the poor kids they’ll get into the Ten Great Academies while also signing with the rich to limit their options.”

“This boss of the poor kids is likely backed by the Evil God hiding inside White Dragon High School.”

“If you’re not ready to confront that Evil God, you shouldn’t go anywhere near this boss.”

Zhang Yu was taken aback. Had Fu Ji really matured this much? She wasn’t trying to tempt him into hunting an Evil God?

Or… maybe her ambitions had grown?

Speaking of White Dragon High, Zhang Yu thought of his older sister—the strongest high schooler in Songyang. On the way out of the cafeteria, he lowered his voice and asked, “What about my sister? Think she’s connected too?”

He’d wondered before if her overwhelming strength came from the same source as his own—an Evil God awakening her potential.

“Your sister?” Fu Ji sighed. “She’s probably walking the God Path. Even I’d have to whisper in her presence. No way the Evil God at White Dragon High would dare show itself around her.”

“God Path?” Zhang Yu asked. “What’s that?”

Fu Ji replied offhandedly, “The road to becoming a god. If she graduates university successfully, she might join the Eight Divine Ministries.”

Her tone was casual, but she wasn’t being fully honest.

“Someone like Zhang Yu… better not learn too much about the God Path,” she thought. “Otherwise, he’ll start worrying about Zhang Pianpian again—and I’ll lose him before he even sits the Foundation License exam.”

“After all… the God Path…”

To Fu Ji, if the college entrance exam was death for most high schoolers, then the Foundation License was certain death. As for the God Path…

“Anyone walking that road is already a dead person.”

…

That afternoon, just before school let out, Zhang Yu’s prize money for first place—300,000 post-tax—finally hit his account.

With a wave of his hand, he told Bai Zhenzhen to go get her scar removal procedure, all expenses on him. It was his thank-you gift for all the times she’d lent him her Spirit Root.

He’d originally planned to take her to the hospital himself, but he had a job lined up right after school.

Arriving at the gates of Purple Cloud High, Zhang Yu passed through the decontamination tunnel again and stepped into a training hall—where he met today’s client: Le Mulan.