Hearing Zhang Yu’s question, Fu Ji muttered to herself, “Trouble. This guy still really cares about his sister.”

Fu Ji knew that if she didn’t give a proper answer, it would only make Zhang Yu more curious.

So after thinking for a moment, she said, “The so-called Divine Path means being noticed early on by the Eight Divine Officials, then signing a contract and receiving cultivation.”

“Not only can you get access to resources, you can also be taught by actual gods.”

“Especially when it comes to Sigils. They get to truly master sigil-based Techniques, adjust every parameter, even design exclusive Sigils of their own—directly channeling power from the Eight Divine Officials.”

“Unlike you guys, who just draw lines on your Talisman Book and stare at it blankly once your money runs out.”

“I once saw a real Sigil expert duel a guy using store-bought Sigils. One Report Sigil and the guy’s bank account was frozen. All he could do was stare helplessly at his Talisman Book.”

Zhang Yu asked, “So if you walk the Divine Path, you can use Sigils without money?”

“Of course not. No money, no gods,” Fu Ji said. “But those on the Divine Path have way higher loan limits. Every one of them is basically a Born-for-Debt Saint Physique—potential off the charts.”

Fu Ji sighed. “Just when you think you’ve bankrupted one of them, boom—they get another loan, power up on the spot, and their combat power shoots through the roof. These guys are masters at breaking through mid-fight.”

Zhang Yu started to understand. So this was the difference between insiders and regular users? And Sigils had actual Techniques? And those favored by the Eight Divine Officials early on…

Zhang Yu recalled memories from the body’s original owner—his sister’s past.

Zhang Pianpian seemed to have changed in elementary school. She became more mature, smarter, more assertive.

But Zhang Yu had been too young back then, constantly getting scolded or hit by his sister. He hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

Even now, despite the swirl of curiosity and confusion inside him, what he really wanted to know was—

“So many perks?” Zhang Yu asked solemnly. “What’s the price?”

This was Kunxu. Zhang Yu didn’t believe in fairy tales about righteous gods spotting talent in mortals and turning them into disciples.

In Kunxu, any gift from a god or a rich man came with a clearly marked price tag.

Fu Ji had already prepared for this question. “Anyone who signs with the Divine Officials and walks the Divine Path is required to serve as a divine assistant after graduating college—unpaid labor for anywhere between decades to centuries.”

Zhang Yu sucked in a sharp breath. Unpaid for that long? His sister had gone from working student to literal draft animal.

Fu Ji continued, “Of course, there’s still one more requirement to qualify for the Divine Path.”

“What kind of requirement?” Zhang Yu asked.

Fu Ji chuckled. “You have to be poor.”

“After all, it’s not just the rich who are born that way.”

“Beasts of burden are born that way too. If your family isn’t poor enough, you don’t qualify.”

What the hell… Zhang Yu was speechless. Guess his whole family was gifted.

Watching his expression, Fu Ji knew she’d deflected the topic successfully and thought, “You should really focus on yourself.”

Thinking back to Zhang Pianpian’s abilities, Fu Ji mused, “Judging by her performance, she probably signed with a top-tier deity—maybe one with divine assistant arrangements above the 10th Floor.”

“When Zhang Yu gets to college, he’ll realize this isn’t something he should be worrying about.”

Not long after Zhang Yu and Fu Ji finished talking, Bai Zhenzhen called him over.

The two of them met with the liaison from Xianyun Group and were taken to the makeup room.

Inside were Yu Xinghan and Song Hailong, already waiting.

This time, a few high performers from the martial arts competition—backed by Xianyun Group—were doing a joint commercial shoot.

Yu Xinghan was flipping through ads on his phone. He glanced up and greeted them, “Yo, you’re here too?”

Song Hailong, who was busy with Full Focus Mode, gave them a quick nod and went back to cultivating.

Only because Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen were now top performers did the two White Dragon High elites bother to acknowledge them.

If Zhao Tianxing had walked in instead, both of them probably would've turned into cold, unfeeling statues.

Zhang Yu took the initiative to start a conversation. “Do you guys have any leads on Spirit Veins or the Spiritual Realm?”

Yu Xinghan’s eyes lit up. He stopped scrolling. “Looking to rent?”

Zhang Yu nodded. “You got a lead?”

Yu Xinghan chuckled. “Not for Spirit Veins. That stuff’s hot property—every patch is already occupied. If you want to use one, you have to rent and wait in line. I’ve got no way in there.”

Song Hailong suddenly chimed in, “For Spirit Veins, you should talk to Xiong Wenwu and Hu Yuntao. Red Tower Pasture is the biggest landholder in Songyang.”

“All three major Spirit-Energy Ecosystem reserves within a hundred-kilometer radius are managed by Red Tower Pasture.”

Zhang Yu quietly made a mental note.

Yu Xinghan added, “But as for the Spiritual Realm, I might be able to help.”

The Spiritual Realm—jointly developed by the Ten Great Academies—was a kind of mental landscape. Zhang Yu thought of it as a virtual world.

Because of its special properties, it was used for training, exams, and Dao Heart refinement.

The higher up in Kunxu you went, the greater the realm’s effects and features.

Xinghuo Zhenren, a Gold Core Cultivator from the upper floors, owned several properties in the Spiritual Realm. Even on Floor One, he could “spirit-roam” through the upper levels using his Spiritual Realm Mask.

But for the lower-floor cultivators—especially poor ones stuck on the First Floor—the restrictions were severe. Daily access times, targets, and permissions were all tightly controlled. Getting into the upper-floor sections of the Spiritual Realm required layers of approval.

Clearly, training your Dao Heart via the Spiritual Realm was another monetized service.

Yu Xinghan thought for a moment and said, “I’ll ask my master. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”

Soon after, the team’s makeup artist walked over.

Leading the group was a petite but stunningly beautiful woman. Her features were perfectly proportioned—eyes, nose, ears, everything—as if sculpted to mathematical precision.

She introduced herself: “Hello, I’m Miao Yun, your image designer for today.”

“Today’s shoot is meant to capture your appearance before and after Synthetic Demon Tendon Muscle surgery.”

Miao Yun, a hardened corporate veteran who hadn’t been laid off in fifty years, was a master of reimbursement forms, blame-shifting, endless meetings, and proposal writing. She still held the record for longest total meeting time in Xianyun Group’s Songyang branch.

With her wealth of experience, she knew one thing for sure: the high-school prodigies chosen for these shoots were always headstrong. Give them choices, and they’d argue. So you had to be direct.

“We’ll start by making you all look small, poor, and weak…” she said.

Zhang Yu understood: they were going for the classic “ugly and broke before surgery, rich and hot afterward” narrative.

Miao Yun began with Song Hailong. She silently groaned—she hated reshaping large-framed people. It took more time and more mana, and yet counted the same on her performance metrics as working on someone petite.

“At least it’s not a Body Refining influencer…”

She remembered ruining one such influencer’s fake muscles and still hadn’t paid off the damages. The memory stung.

“Hope my overtime request for next month gets approved. I can’t survive without it…”

Though her mind was busy, her hands were swift and steady.

She tapped multiple spots on Song Hailong’s body, infusing mana with each touch. His muscles shrank rapidly, bones shifting. When she moved to his eyebrows, cheeks, and face, he transformed completely—from burly tough guy to skinny, sketchy-looking youth.

Miao Yun rubbed her palms afterward. His body had taken quite a bit of effort.

Zhang Yu was amazed. He couldn’t follow her hand speed at all. This makeup artist’s power far outstripped theirs.

He sighed inwardly. “No wonder they say corporate workers in big firms are stronger than high schoolers.”

Watching Song Hailong’s transformation, he marveled, “It’s like character creation in a video game.”

He also realized that Miao Yun’s perfect appearance must be self-crafted as well.

Then she moved to Yu Xinghan. One touch and she commented, “Not bad mana resistance. But tone it down for now.”

Yu Xinghan replied sheepishly, “It’s my Horizontal Refining Technique. Can’t really tone it down.”

Miao Yun sighed. If there was one thing she hated more than big clients, it was ones with reinforced bodies. Shaping them was like bending rebar instead of clay—and hell on her hands.

“These hands won’t last the year at this rate…”

When she got to Bai Zhenzhen, she studied her face and suddenly asked, “Hey girl, I really like your facial structure. You selling that face model?”

Bai Zhenzhen, icy as ever, replied, “You think I’d look like this and not have already sold the face model?”

“Fair point.” Miao Yun chuckled. “Tell me your name—I’ll add you to my collection.”

As a seasoned image designer, Miao Yun had a personal archive of face models. Staying on top of beauty trends was the only way to pass the company’s annual skill assessments.

To her, Bai Zhenzhen’s face was technical capital.

As for Song Hailong and Yu Xinghan? Just another couple of rich kids with plastic surgery faces—tools for maintaining public image or masking their real identities.