https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-133-New-Medicine-Channel-Xianyun-Endorsement-Vote-for-the-Month-/13686593/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-135-10th-Rank-Residual-Cow-Hidden-Currents-Stirring/13686595/
Chapter 134: Finding Channels, Image Design (Thanks to 'Qiushui Ranxinghe' for the MVP Donation)
Hearing Zhang Yu’s question, Fujie mentally sighed—Trouble again. He really is still obsessed with his sister.
Fujie knew that if he didn’t give a proper answer, Zhang Yu would only grow more curious. So after a brief pause, he said:
“The so-called Divine Path? It means you were noticed early on by the Eight Great Righteous Gods, and thus signed a contract with them for cultivation.”
“Not only do you gain access to resources, but you also receive direct guidance from the gods themselves.”
“Especially in the art of talismans, you don’t just use them—you master the techniques behind them. You can tweak every parameter of a talisman, even customize one entirely unique to you—directly channeling the power of the Eight Great Righteous Gods.”
“Not like you mere users, just mindlessly swiping your Lushu back and forth, staring blankly when your funds run out.”
“I once saw a real master of talismans take down another user. One Report Charm spell, and the opponent’s bank account froze—leaving them helplessly staring at their Lushu.”
Zhang Yu frowned. “So… even if you’re broke, you can still use talismans if you’re on the Divine Path?”
“Of course not,” Fujie replied. “What god would help someone with no money? But people on the Divine Path have massive loan ceilings—each of them is a natural-born credit prodigy, with potential so deep it’s practically bottomless.”
“Every time you think you’ve finally bankrupted them, they just pull out another loan, their power surges instantly. The more they borrow, the stronger they get. That’s why these guys are masters of breaking through in battle.”
Zhang Yu’s eyes narrowed slightly. Now he began to grasp it—the difference between insiders and ordinary users. Real talisman techniques. Early recognition by the Eight Great Righteous Gods.
He remembered fragments from his original self’s memories—his sister, Zhang Pianpian, had started changing ever since elementary school, becoming more mature, sharper, more independent. But back then, Zhang Yu was too young, too often punished by her, too busy being scolded or beaten to notice anything unusual.
Now, though a flood of questions stirred within him, the one thing he truly cared about was this:
“With all these benefits…” Zhang Yu said seriously. “What’s the cost?”
This was Kunxu. He didn’t believe in any fairy tale about a righteous god admiring a mortal’s talent and adopting them as a disciple. In this world, every gift from a god—every privilege—came with a price, already marked in advance.
Fujie had already rehearsed this part. He answered smoothly:
“Everyone who signs a pact with a righteous god and walks the Divine Path must join the Eight Great Righteous Gods after college—working as a divine servant for decades, even centuries, without pay.”
Zhang Yu inhaled sharply. Free labor for hundreds of years? His sister had literally been working her way down from a high-ranking job to become a true beast of burden.
Fujie added, “Of course, there’s one more requirement.”
Zhang Yu raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Fujie smirked. “You must be poor.”
“After all, not everyone is born rich. But being a slave? That’s also a natural talent. You can’t be one if your family’s too wealthy.”
Zhang Yu stared, speechless. Damn… our whole family really is uniquely gifted.
Watching Zhang Yu’s expression, Fujie felt satisfied. Mission accomplished. Now focus on yourself, kid.
Recalling Zhang Pianpian’s demeanor, Fujie mused inwardly: From her behavior, she might’ve bound herself to a truly high-tier god—one whose influence spans ten levels or more of divine hierarchy. When Zhang Yu goes to university, he’ll realize this isn’t his business.
Not long after their conversation ended, Bai Zhenzhen called Zhang Yu over.
The two of them met with the representative from Xianyun Group and were led to the makeup room.
Inside, Yu Xinghan and Song Hailong were already waiting.
This time, it was a joint ad shoot for top-performing students in the Sports Competition—those with connections to Xianyun Group.
Yu Xinghan glanced up from his phone, scrolling through ads, and greeted them casually:
“Hey, you two made it too?”
Song Hailong, still in the middle of focused breath control, gave a brief nod before returning to his cultivation.
Only Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen’s recent achievements earned them a polite acknowledgment. If Zhao Tianxing had walked in, both White Dragon natives would’ve likely ignored him entirely—cold, silent, and utterly indifferent.
Zhang Yu, however, took the initiative.
“Hey, do either of you have any contacts in Spirit Vein or Ling界?”
Yu Xinghan’s eyes lit up. He paused mid-scroll. “Wait—want to rent one?”
Zhang Yu nodded. “Got a way in?”
Yu Xinghan chuckled. “Spirit Vein? No chance. It’s too hot—every region has its own claimants. If you want access, you gotta rent it, and there’s a queue. I don’t have any inside connections.”
Song Hailong suddenly spoke up:
“Then you should talk to Xiong Wenwu and Hu Yuntao. Hongta Pasture is the largest landowner in Songyang City. All three major Spirit Energy Ecosystem Protected Zones within a hundred kilometers are under their control.”
Zhang Yu nodded silently, committing the info to memory.
Yu Xinghan added, “Spirit Vein’s out, but Spirit World? Maybe I can help you figure something out.”
Ling界—a mental realm crafted by the Top Ten Sects, a space akin to a virtual network in Zhang Yu’s mind. It served not just for entertainment, but also for teaching, exams, and refining one’s Dao Heart.
The higher one climbed in Kunxu, the more powerful the Ling realm became—its functions expanded with rank.
Xinghuo Immortal, a Golden Core Immortal descending from the upper layers, held significant assets within Ling Realm. He even had his own private Ling Realm retreat—so powerful that even from the first layer, he could occasionally spirit-wander into the upper realms.
But for those at the lower tiers—especially impoverished souls in Layer 1—Ling界 was heavily restricted. Daily access limits, approved targets, approval chains—everything was tightly controlled. To access the upper-layer Ling界? You’d need multiple layers of clearance.
Needless to say, using the Ling realm to refine one’s Dao Heart was yet another matter.
Yu Xinghan paused, then said:
“I’ll have to check with my master. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”
Moments later, the team’s makeup artist arrived.
The lead artist was petite but strikingly beautiful—every feature perfectly proportioned, like a sculpted masterpiece.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Miao Yun. I’ll be your image designer for today.”
Her tone was crisp, no-nonsense.
“We’ll start by transforming you into a thin, poor, weak version—before the Artificial Demon Muscle procedure.”
Zhang Yu understood immediately. This was the classic before-and-after contrast: poverty-stricken and unimpressive, then suddenly wealthy, powerful, and handsome.
Miao Yun approached Song Hailong first.
Another big one. Damn. She hated reshaping large bodies—time-consuming, energy-draining, and low-performing in terms of rewards.
At least he’s not a bodybuilder. That time I ruined a fake muscle set for a cult star… still paying for it.
Hope the overtime request gets approved next month. Otherwise, I’m dead.
Despite her inner complaints, her movements were swift and precise. Her fingers danced across Song Hailong’s body, injecting martial energy with each touch.
Muscles instantly contracted, shrinking. Bone structure subtly shifted.
When her fingertips brushed his brows, cheeks, and jawline, the transformation was staggering. The once towering, muscular giant became a wiry, meek, almost pathetic figure.
Finished, Miao Yun rubbed her palms, sighing. This one’s tough. Took more effort than usual.
Zhang Yu watched, stunned. He couldn’t even track her hand movements. This makeup artist was leagues beyond their level.
He thought to himself: No wonder big company employees are so strong. Even their side jobs are combat-level.
The sight of Song Hailong’s sudden change made him whisper: It’s like she’s sculpting a doll.
Then it hit him—Miao Yun’s flawless, almost divine appearance? She must have sculpted that too.
Next, Miao Yun turned to Yu Xinghan. She touched him once, then said:
“Good resistance. But ease up a bit, okay?”
Yu Xinghan chuckled sheepishly. “Can’t help it. I’m training in a hardening technique.”
Miao Yun groaned. Of course. Another one with a body like iron. This is like molding steel instead of clay. My hands are gonna be done before the year’s over.
Finally, she reached Bai Zhenzhen.
After a moment’s inspection, Miao Yun smiled.
“Sweetheart, I really like your face shape. Wanna sell your face model?”
Bai Zhenzhen, cold and composed, replied:
“You think I’d still be this tall and not have sold my face by now?”
Miao Yun laughed. “Fair point. What’s your name? I’ll add you to my collection.”
As a veteran makeup artist and image designer, Miao Yun always curated unique face models—staying ahead of trends to pass her annual company evaluations.
To her, Bai Zhenzhen’s face was a top-tier technical asset.
As for Song Hailong and Yu Xinghan? Just another pair of rich kids with artificial, perfectly polished faces—used for image maintenance or hiding their true identities.
(End of Chapter)
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