Chapter 2: Money Is Worthless as Dirt; Immortality Is the True Pursuit

He made another deposit.

The machine confirmed the transaction; his balance now read 21,750.42.

Zhang Kai withdrew his bank card, satisfied.

His personal savings had reached a new high.

But this was only the beginning—his small apartment was still filled with stacks of cash waiting to be deposited.

Of course, the ATM could only handle so much; for the rest, he’d have to go to the bank counter.

But hauling several hundred million in cash at once would instantly make him a national sensation. Such a scene would inevitably be filmed, uploaded to Douyin, and immediately attract attention. Attention would mean exposure, and if he were exposed, how could he ever explain the origin of all this money?

For a moment, Zhang Kai was troubled.

So it was true—wealth really did bring its own worries. Right now, he felt especially powerful.

Wait, why was he fussing over money, anyway?

With his golden finger, money was nothing but a number—utterly meaningless.

What truly mattered were those miraculous things from movies and TV dramas.

Super technology, magic, superpowers, martial arts manuals, paths to immortality—there were so many.

Any one of them, brought into the real world, would be a world-shattering treasure!

His heart pounded fiercely; Zhang Kai felt he’d found his purpose in life.

He would—practice martial arts, cultivate immortality, and live forever.

With wealth at his fingertips, he wanted a longer life.

He had a golden finger; not striving for immortality would be a waste of his gift.

Back in his apartment, Zhang Kai took out his phone and started watching movies and TV series.

As he watched, another worry crept in.

Much as he longed for it, Zhang Kai realized, upon calming down, that many things were out of reach for now.

A spaceship, for instance—he’d only practiced driving while getting his license, how could he pilot a spaceship? And where would he even store such a massive thing?

As for martial arts manuals—he could barely remember fragments of ancient poems, let alone understand the technical jargon in those manuals. They might as well be written in code.

And could cultivation even work in real life? That would take trial and error from scratch. The golden finger offered infinite possibilities, but he had just one life—he had to be careful.

Lying atop piles of banknotes, Zhang Kai thought long and hard, drifting off to sleep without even realizing it.

When he woke again, it was already noon the next day.

Looking at the room full of cash, his mood had shifted—he could now face it calmly.

Compared to the boundless resources in movies and TV, this money was so mundane, so insignificant, as worthless as dirt. Only a fool would covet it.

Then Zhang Kai got busy.

He went to the supermarket and bought ten large canvas bags, then began packing up the cash for deposit.

Since he’d already taken it out, he had to deal with it.

And for the plans he’d spent half the night pondering, money would still play an important role.

He first rented a Jinbei van. Once he was used to driving it, he started hauling bags of banknotes to various banks, depositing several million at each.

A wealthy man like him, bringing in huge sums of cash, was treated as a VIP at every bank, escorted through special channels, waited on by branch managers with tea and pleasantries.

But Zhang Kai wasn’t in the mood to put on airs. He’d deposit the money and leave.

It took him a day and a half to finish depositing all the cash. The total: 688,580,000.

Nearly seven hundred million.

Not even a bank robber could work that fast.

But Zhang Kai’s mind was already consumed by the pursuit of cultivation, indifferent to these meaningless numbers.

After disposing of the vast, unexplained fortune, he ended his lease, returned the van, and with just a small suitcase, boarded a high-speed train that night, leaving behind the city where he once dreamed of making a life.

…

Wudang Mountain, also known as Taihe Mountain, Xieluo Mountain, Can Shang Mountain, and Immortal’s Chamber Mountain, was known in ancient times as Taiyue, Xuanyue, and Dayue.

As the holy land of Taoism, it had produced countless renowned Taoist figures.

Among them, the most legendary was none other than Zhang Sanfeng, the founder of the Wudang Sect—so famous that his name was like a watermelon split in two, familiar to all.

In martial arts fiction, Zhang Sanfeng was an indispensable grandmaster, whether as protagonist or as a towering presence in the background.

At dawn, after a restful night in a hotel, Zhang Kai arrived at the foot of Wudang Mountain. Watching the steady stream of tourists, he smiled softly.

He was not here to sightsee, but to seek Taoist knowledge.

After careful selection, Zhang Kai had decided that the first cultivation method he would pursue was the Purple Cloud Divine Art.

This was the signature technique of the Huashan Sect in Swordsman, derived from the Innate Skill of the Quanzhen Sect in Legend of the Condor Heroes.

Zhang Kai’s aim was not just martial arts, but immortality.

Martial arts alone could not grant eternal life.

But the path to immortality was perilous; for safety’s sake, he needed a solid foundation. Martial training was the best transition.

And among all introductory methods, the Purple Cloud Divine Art was ideal. As a Taoist art, gaining Taoist knowledge would help him avoid missteps in cultivation.

Wudang Mountain was the perfect place to train.

And so, Zhang Kai came.

As for whether he could remain here, Zhang Kai believed—money was omnipotent.

Two hours later, one less bank card holding ten million yuan, and a secluded, weathered courtyard on a small peak behind Wudang Mountain had gained a new resident: Layman Zhang, a devotee of Wudang culture, with free rein on the grounds.

The hospitality was impeccable. The Wudang Sect even assigned a young novice, perhaps ten years old, to attend to Zhang Kai’s daily needs.

With everything settled, Zhang Kai began his reclusive life at Wudang.

The Purple Cloud manual was already in hand.

That part was simple—thanks to the ever-reliable Lao Denuo, the professional deliveryman.

As he’d expected, the manual was impossible to decipher—not just the technical terms, but the meridians and acupoints might as well have been written in an alien language.

Zhang Kai was in no rush. He first pored over the basic Taoist texts in Wudang’s library, memorized the meridians and acupoints, then sought advice from the elderly Taoist priests, and even practiced the sect’s foundational martial arts.

It wasn’t at all like the magical scenes on TV—just body conditioning, strengthening the physique. As for lightness skills? At best, running quickly up the mountain steps.

Still, Zhang Kai took his studies seriously.

Cultivation is not achieved overnight. Having found his path to enlightenment, Zhang Kai wasn’t about to rush and ruin his foundation.

He continued his studies for over three months.

One morning, on a small peak behind Wudang Mountain, Zhang Kai sat cross-legged on a boulder, gazing east into the misty dawn, eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His months of diligent study had paid off—at last, he could understand the manual, and the meridians and acupoints were clear in his mind.

Yet, after countless days practicing the Purple Cloud Divine Art, there was no progress.

After all, this wasn’t a fantasy world, and the Purple Cloud Divine Art required a foundation before cultivation could begin.

But Zhang Kai was not discouraged; he had long since made his preparations. Today was the day to test if it would work.

He drew from his robe a small, black pellet resembling a lump of clay—a miraculous elixir from the movie Modern Buddha’s Palm.

Many young people might not know it: this early Andy Lau film told of two young men who, while smuggling, stumbled upon the fallen lair of the legendary hero Long Jianfei, and obtained both an elixir and martial arts manuals.

The elixir granted sixty years’ worth of inner power, while the manuals contained Buddha’s Palm and Seven-Spin Slash.

Over the past few months, Zhang Kai had watched countless films and series, seeking out all manner of cultivation-boosting elixirs: Fuling Black-Head Pills, Blood Bodhi, Treasure Snake Blood. But of all the power-enhancing pills, this film’s elixir pleased him most.

For one reason: in the movie, the hero gained inner strength instantly and without side effects. Though it was just a cinematic device, that made it the safest choice. Other pills required various conditions or taboos; this one was simple and direct.

Not to mention, it came with two manuals.

Of all the film and TV martial arts, countless skills appeared, but actual manuals on screen were rare—a fact that pained Zhang Kai. So many legendary skills could only be admired, not seized.

But for now, cultivation came first.

If, after all these preparations, he still couldn’t master martial arts, he might as well leave the mountain and enjoy life as an urban tycoon.

He popped the little black—well, the Great Rejuvenation Pill—into his mouth. It was bitter, with a strange taste, but he chewed it a couple of times and swallowed.

Closing his eyes, he felt a surge of powerful energy rising within—the elixir at work.

Without any effort on his part, the energy spread gently through his meridians, calm and harmonious.

Truly, the logic of the movies was wondrous.

Perhaps in the future, he should invest in producing his own films—immortals battling, miracle pills, cultivation secrets all prominently displayed, even carried on the hero’s person. Best if the skills could be learned at a glance, mastered instantly, and immensely powerful.

Box office returns didn’t matter—as long as it made his own loot easier to grab.

Sensing the elixir fully transformed into inner power, Zhang Kai focused, reciting the circulation pattern of the Purple Cloud Divine Art and began to guide the sixty years’ worth of energy.

Slowly, the gentle inner strength began to flow along the manual’s prescribed pathway, round and round, again and again.

Faintly, a purple aura shimmered around Zhang Kai, making him seem, from a distance, like a true immortal.