https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-78-The-Two-Strongest-Decide-Repaying-Monthly-Ticket-Debt-1-/13686503/
Chapter 79: The Most Powerful Move
Inside the rest area of Ziyun High School.
Le Mulan had already resettled herself on Lian Tianji’s back.
She watched Bai Zhenzhen dash toward the Arena, phone in hand, frantically explaining her right to use Zhang Yu’s device to the referee.
“Bai Zhenzhen actually managed to use Zhang Yu’s phone to shop?” Le Mulan mused, her tone laced with mild surprise. “She knows both the password and the payment password?”
“They must be close to death and back,” she added, almost to herself.
As Zhang Yu slowly returned to the rest area, Le Mulan patted Lian Tianji’s head and said, “I remember you’ve got Zhang Yu as a friend, right?”
…
Zhang Yu barely made it back before downing every recovery potion he’d pre-purchased—tonics to restore stamina, Martial Energy, and mental focus.
The surge of power flooding back into his body brought him a sliver of relief.
The organizers had granted thirty minutes of rest before the final round—more than enough time, in Zhang Yu’s estimation, to regain eight or nine out of ten of his strength and energy.
Bai Zhenzhen glanced over, then asked, “Did you remember everything I told you?”
When Zhang Yu nodded, she nodded back and said, “Then I’ll leave you to rest. Prepare yourself for the next fight.”
Not long after she left, Zhang Yu felt his phone vibrate softly.
He opened it—Lian Tianji had just recommended a new friend.
“Le Mulan?”
He didn’t understand why she’d added him, but he simply accepted the request.
Almost instantly, a message popped up.
Let’s meet. I have something important to discuss.
Zhang Yu walked to a quiet corridor outside the arena and found Le Mulan already standing there, poised and composed.
The genius from Ziyun High School—elegant, serene, her icy beauty drawing eyes wherever she went—seemed to command the entire space.
When she saw Zhang Yu arrive, she didn’t waste words.
“Twenty million. I’ll buy your loss. How about it?”
Zhang Yu blinked.
“You want to pay to buy the championship?”
Le Mulan shrugged, unbothered. “Money is power. Wealth is strength. The Martial Arts Competition is about strength—so why can’t I buy it with money?”
Zhang Yu stared at her, then let out a dry chuckle. “You don’t think you can beat me?”
Le Mulan shook her head. “I just think fighting you would cost me more than twenty million. Paying twenty million to guarantee a win? That’s a bargain.”
Silence settled between them.
Then she added, “Twenty million’s not enough? Fine—forty million. But that’s my absolute limit. If you try to raise the price, I won’t agree.”
Zhang Yu swallowed hard.
He had to admit—right now, Le Mulan’s offer of forty million was more powerful than any move he’d faced in the past few Arena battles.
Forty million… what cultivation techniques could it buy? How long could it lease a spiritual root? How many cultivation tools? How much could it boost a talisman?
He even thought—had he that kind of money, his cultivation gains would far surpass the 50,000 bonus for winning the Martial Arts Competition, plus an expert-grade cultivation manual.
After all, in Kunxu, money meant potential. Money meant talent. Money meant you could charge ahead on the immortal path—so fast that even gods would serve you.
Zhang Yu finally said, “Fine. Just transfer it directly to my account.”
Le Mulan spread her fingers. A purple jade Lushu floated into her palm.
“Sign a contract under the witness of the True God. I’ll send the money the instant we seal it.”
But Zhang Yu didn’t respond. He just stood there, silent.
Le Mulan blinked in disbelief. “You’re hesitating over forty million?”
She genuinely looked confused.
“I heard Lian Tianji say you’d work for a few hundred as a security guard.”
“You people are poor—yet you fight over a few hundred, a few thousand every day. So why, when forty million is right in front of you, do you hesitate?”
“Your background isn’t elite. You can’t possibly be aiming for the Top Ten Elite Universities. Is the first place in the Martial Arts Competition really that important?”
Her tone held no mockery—only genuine, deep curiosity.
She shook her head and turned to leave. “If you can’t decide now, I’ll go. But you can come take the forty million before the final begins. But that’s it—no more. I won’t raise the price.”
Zhang Yu watched her walk away.
Then, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to Zhang Pianpian:
Big sister, if I don’t win first place, but only second, how much will that hurt my chances of getting into the Top Ten Elite Universities?
Zhang Pianpian replied:
I arranged the backdoor path for you. The better your first-year grades and competition rank, the higher your chance of being selected. Winning first place is naturally better than second. But even second place won’t rule you out completely—it just lowers your odds.
Zhang Yu understood.
So taking the 40 million wouldn’t doom him. It would just make it harder.
But just as that thought began to take root—that maybe he should just accept it—the damn Ritual roared in his mind again.
“I knew it.”
“You idiot thing—really scared of me not getting into the Top Ten, huh?”
The feeling of losing 40 million—of watching it slip away—was unbearable. A pain deeper than any punch from Lian Tianji, deeper than his all-out battle with Song Hailong.
This is what it feels like to lose a fortune?
Zhang Yu immediately activated the Tianwu Cultivation of the Heart Scripture, cutting through every distraction, every doubt.
In that moment, his mind was clear.
There was only one thought left.
He would crush Le Mulan—this rich, arrogant woman—on the Arena floor.
…
The final match began.
Le Mulan and Zhang Yu stepped onto the Arena at the same time.
The Martial Arts Competition had reached its final stage.
A torrent of blue-white sword energy erupted from Le Mulan’s body, sweeping toward Zhang Yu like a storm.
Her Star Array Sword Art unleashed wave after wave of cutting energy—continuous, disciplined, precise, like a military formation. Impossible to break through.
Zhang Yu dodged left and right, deflecting with Wuxiang Yun'gang, barely keeping up.
Le Mulan watched, smirking. “You think you can wear me down?”
She laughed. “Do you really think you can exhaust me?”
Then, as her sword energy surged, her Martial Energy spiked—unstoppable, like a rushing river, surpassing even the strongest of all competitors on the field.
And from within her, a voice echoed.
Welcome to the Ziyun Replaceable Internal Pill system.
Internal Pill Martial Energy Reserve: 8 million.
Le Mulan gently touched her abdomen, then looked at Zhang Yu.
“The replaceable internal pill inside me? I’ve infused it with Martial Energy worth 8 million.”
On her wrist, a digital counter appeared—a number ticking down from 8 million.
Each second, it dropped by thousands. But the distance to zero was still vast.
Yet this also meant—every second she fought, she was spending over a thousand yuan.
With a flick of her finger, she sent wave after wave of sword energy—like a hurricane—pummeling Zhang Yu.
He couldn’t even approach. She was forcing him back, inch by inch, toward the edge of the Arena.
“If you think your meridians can’t handle this flow of energy, don’t worry.”
“My Combat Spirit Root, Fa Luo, protects my entire body. I can maintain maximum output indefinitely—no wear, no damage.”
The crowd erupted.
They were awed. This wasn’t just a show of power—it was money being spent in real time.
This was her money, not an insurance company’s.
One fan gasped, “It’s beautiful—watching someone spend money like it’s nothing… it’s breathtaking.”
Another sighed, “Being rich… it’s so damn satisfying. I’m jealous.”
A third muttered, “This is what true cultivation looks like. You don’t rise on talent alone—you rise on money. I’m going home tonight and burning my old man’s gold stash. I’m going to push deeper into the immortal path.”
The crowd’s cheers and murmurs swelled.
Le Mulan frowned slightly.
Still firing sword energy, she looked at Zhang Yu and said, “You heard them, didn’t you? Even though they’re noisy, they’re not wrong. Money is the foundation of cultivation.”
“As a poor man, you could’ve been a little closer to me—had you taken that 40 million.”
“But you turned it down. You threw away your chance to grow stronger.”
She looked at him, genuinely curious.
“I just don’t understand… you’re so poor. Why won’t you take money? Why won’t you get rich?”
It was as if all her words had been leading to this single question.
Zhang Yu stared at her—then let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
So the rich girl’s come to study the life of the poor?
He sneered. “You priced me at 40 million because you think that’s all it takes to beat me?”
Le Mulan nodded. “Exactly. I calculated it. Your defeat is worth no more than 40 million. Any more is waste.”
At that moment, the sword energy cracked through Wuxiang Yun'gang.
A cut opened on Zhang Yu’s hand.
Blood dripped into the sword energy, staining it faintly red.
But Zhang Yu didn’t flinch.
Instead, with a calm, deliberate motion, he flung his blood toward Le Mulan’s position.
For the first time since the fight began—Le Mulan, who had remained perfectly still, unshaken, moved.
She took a tiny step aside—just enough to dodge the blood.
And in that moment, her Star Array Sword Art revealed a subtle flaw.
Zhang Yu shot forward like lightning—dodging through the storm of sword energy, aiming to close the distance.
And in that instant, Bai Zhenzhen’s words echoed in his mind.
“Le Mulan’s first weakness? She’s… kind of obsessed with cleanliness.”
“I suggest you spit at her. Best if you spit phlegm. She’ll dodge—she won’t even let her sword energy touch the spit.”
(End of Chapter)
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