Chapter 88: Shooting the Ad, Teaching He Dayou a Lesson

Chapter 88: Shooting the Ad, Teaching He Dayou a Lesson (Monthly Ticket Loan 3)

The martial arts competition had ended days ago when Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen finally landed a commercial gig—a group ad featuring several competition finalists.

Walking toward the studio, Zhang Yu couldn’t help but ask, “Did you hear what Song Hailong said yesterday? Why did he, a third-place finisher, get a solo ad while we’re stuck with a group shoot?”

Bai Zhenzhen rolled her eyes. “I asked around. The reason’s pretty simple—we’re halfway through our first year of high school. In six months, we’ll be sophomores.”

“They’re afraid we’ll collapse, so no one’s offering solo ads.”

Zhang Yu frowned. “Collapse? How could we possibly collapse? Are they worried we’ll chase fans?”

Bai Zhenzhen shot him a sideways glance. “You’re clueless. Chasing fans is nothing compared to real collapse. They’re scared our grades will plummet in sophomore year. After all, we’re broke.”

Zhang Yu paused, then nodded. In the Kunxu Realm, a scholar’s “collapse” meant academic failure. It made sense.

But his irritation flared again. “So just because we’re poor, we’re guaranteed to fail? We’re already struggling financially, and now we can’t even earn money like someone privileged like Song Hailong?”

“Wait—if group ads are okay, why the worry? Aren’t they scared we’ll tumble down?”

Bai Zhenzhen stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You’re joking, right? If we ‘tumble,’ they’ll just edit us out of the final cut.”

Half an hour later, the pair arrived at the studio, where familiar faces from the three top high schools had already gathered. But everyone’s attention was fixed on a boy surrounded by over a dozen crew members.

“Who’s that?” Bai Zhenzhen whispered. “Looks like a movie star.”

Zhang Yu squinted. “Aren’t we here for the group ad with the top eight martial artists? He wasn’t in the finals.”

Lian Tianji materialized behind them. “That’s Yuxinghan—the Starfire Cultivator’s final disciple. He’s transferring to Bailong High soon.”

The boy stood at the center of a whirlwind of assistants, makeup artists, and directors. Bai Zhenzhen’s eyes gleamed. “Starfire Cultivator? You mean the Golden Core expert?”

Lian Tianji nodded. “Starfire says Yuxinghan will inherit everything—his techniques, his fortune. He’s destined to become Songyang City’s next Imperial Exam Sage.”

“With a Golden Core disciple title and that reputation, Xianyun Group snapped him up for this ad.” He smirked. “Check Song Hailong’s face—he’s practically shooting sparks. Yuxinghan’s joining Bailong High means he’ll challenge Song for the top spot.”

Zhang Yu glanced at Song Hailong, who indeed looked like an agitated stray cat, back arched and fur bristling as he glared at Yuxinghan.

Zhang Yu suddenly asked, “Will Yuxinghan compete in the next martial arts tournament?”

“Of course,” Lian Tianji said. “He’s a serious contender for the championship.” His gaze sharpened with competitive fire.

As they spoke, a pair of eyes fixed coldly on them from across the room.

Le Muran of Ziyun High watched them, her interest piqued. She’d come for two reasons: Yuxinghan, the Golden Core disciple, and the two “poor kids” of the competition—Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen.

She’d scrolled through Zhang Yu’s social media photos daily, and the nausea she once felt had faded. “Might as well start small. I’ll get closer during the shoot.”

But the memory of Zhang Yu’s blood-slicked face pressing against her made her shudder involuntarily.

The shoot began, with contestants promoting Xianyun Group’s tutoring services. Yuxinghan dominated the spotlight, flanked by others like a rose amid greenery. Zhang Yu, Le Muran, and Song Hailong formed the outer circle, Bai Zhenzhen further back, and Lian Tianji practically in the dirt.

“The director’s adding ‘Starfire Cultivator’s Final Disciple’ in giant text,” someone muttered. “He’s the absolute star.”

During breaks, contestants flocked to Yuxinghan, trading contacts and flattery. Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen watched the golden boy’s entourage grow.

Meanwhile, Le Muran hovered near Zhang Yu, alternately breathing deeply and trembling. Finally, he snapped, “What’s your problem?”

She recoiled. “N-nothing. Don’t need your help.”

Zhang Yu muttered, “Weirdo,” and turned away.

Le Muran pinched her nose. “This stench… Is this what Mom called ‘subway smell’? The poor really reek.”

“But I’m adapting. Glad I came.”

After four hours, the shoot wrapped. Zhang Yu pocketed 30,000 yuan, Bai Zhenzhen 8,000.

Back home, Zhang Yu’s 30,000 yuan vanished instantly—converted into a Primordial Chaos Pill, which he swallowed whole.

As wild medicinal energy surged through his body, he focused on cultivating Crimson Marrow Primordial Qi. The pill’s power seeped into his muscles, organs, and bones, fueling his growth.

Half an hour later, the energy settled, leaving him electrified, his strength boundless. Though his Physical Strength Level hadn’t risen yet, his body hummed with vitality.

Over the next three days, he trained relentlessly, pushing his limits until exhaustion, then reviving with his Contractual Ritual to train harder. By the time the pill’s effects faded, his Physical Strength Level had jumped from 1.67 to 1.70.

“Worth every penny,” he sighed. “In the Kunxu Realm, money talks.”

Yet as he trained, he marveled at his own obsession. “When did I become such a workaholic? Three days straight, no complaints from my Contractual Ritual.”

His body strengthened daily, each cell absorbing the pill’s power. “A 10th-level Crimson Marrow Primordial Qi cultivator should be a senior’s feat. But here I am, a 1.7 Physical Strength Level rookie, charging ahead like a pro in a newbie zone.”

Three days later, his Physical Strength Level hit 1.87. Standing in class, he sighed. “Need more money.”

His thoughts were interrupted by Lei Jun’s voice: “Zhang Yu, He Dayou—you two spar.”

Zhang Yu blinked. He’d always partnered with Bai Zhenzhen in combat drills. Why He Dayou? A Bronze-tier opponent for a King?

Lei Jun’s intent was clear: He Dayou had grown arrogant after a Physical Strength Level spike, dismissing Lei’s teachings. Zhang Yu was his lesson plan.

He Dayou scowled as Zhang Yu approached. “My Physical Strength Level’s higher now. But his combat skills…”

Before he could react, Zhang Yu lunged. He Dayou blocked instinctively—only to feel Zhang Yu seize his wrist, challenging him in a test of brute strength.

“What?!” He Dayou’s shock turned to glee. “You’re challenging me to a strength match?”

He Dayou’s other hand clamped down, their Spiritual Power clashing as they strained. He Dayou roared, trying to lift and throw Zhang Yu, but Zhang Yu’s grip held firm, unyielding as a mountain.

——

Another Monthly Ticket Loan chapter repaid. Fellow Daoists, keep lending me those monthly tickets!

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end