Chapter 8: Inviting a Deity

Staring at the mark in the center of his palm, Zhang Yu couldn't help but wonder, “What the hell does this mean?”

“Don’t tell me I drop dead the moment it fills up?”

Unfortunately, no one could answer the growing unease in his heart.

After dragging his half-dead body through P.E. that morning, Zhang Yu ate lunch with Bai Zhenzhen and Zhou Tianyi. After a short break, it was time for afternoon classes.

First up: history, taught by a white-haired old man.

The teacher shuffled into the room, sat down behind the podium without a word, opened his book, and began lecturing in a lazy monotone.

Whether the students below were catching up on rest, practicing Breathing Techniques, cultivating, or even sneaking off for body-refining, he didn’t seem to care.

Zhang Yu wasn’t remotely interested in the lesson. He flipped through the textbook at high speed, allowing the contents to surface in his mind as he mentally compared them with what he remembered.

“Kunxu has no countries. Everything is monopolized and controlled by the Major Sects of the Immortal Dao. The First Floor of Kunxu alone is about twice the size of China, covered in cities of all sizes, each managed by a sect-run city government.”

“In terms of tech, the First Floor is about the same as my old world—minus the Immortal Path stuff. But regular people here seem to have it way harder.”

“The First Floor is where I’ve lived my whole life. As for what’s above that... I’ve only seen glimpses in movies and shows.”

According to Zhang Yu’s memories, only by getting into a university could one enter the Second Floor of Kunxu. And to reach the higher floors, you had to graduate and join a Major Sect.

In short, Kunxu is a place where you climb by gaining stronger Immortal Path powers and higher-tier access.

The higher you go, the more abundant the spiritual energy, the more advanced the Immortal-tech, and the more resources overflow.

Zhang Yu turned to gaze out the window, soaking in the flood of golden sunlight.

“A sky this vivid, sunlight this warm… Can this really be inside some mega-structure?”

“If the First Floor is twice the size of China, how massive must the whole of Kunxu be? It can’t still be on Earth… can it?”

“And how did I even end up in this world?”

His mind drifted back to the moment he first arrived—the eerie ritual, the swirling chaos—and suddenly a wave of dizziness hit him.

Zhang Yu quickly shook it off. Compared to metaphysical questions like that, he had more urgent matters to worry about: his grades, daily expenses, making money, staying alive through P.E.…

And speaking of grades and cultivation, his headache grew.

Aside from P.E., Immortal Path evaluations included four main subjects: Dao Heart, Mana, Martial Arts, and Dao Techniques.

Dao Heart: 150 points.

Mana: 150 points.

Martial Arts: 100 points.

Dao Techniques: 100 points.

According to the memories he’d inherited, Zhang Yu’s recent scores had tanked across the board. Every subject was spiraling down.

At this rate, getting expelled from Songyang High seemed inevitable.

That brought up another mystery.

“Now that I think about it, Zhang Yu’s family wasn’t wealthy. He didn’t have much Immortal Path talent either. Both first-year and second-year interviews didn’t go well. So how did he even get into Songyang High in the first place?”

He racked his brain. All he could remember was that he barely scraped through the interviews to enter Songyang High.

That thought made him frown. He pulled out his phone and opened the contacts list.

“Should I try reaching out to Zhang Yu’s parents? Or maybe his sister?”

Through the rest of the afternoon classes, Zhang Yu spent his time half-reviewing and half-sorting through his inherited memories. Slowly, he was piecing together a more complete picture of this world, and of Zhang Yu himself.

Before he knew it, school was over. It was six o’clock.

But at Songyang High, that just meant half the day was done. Most students now rushed to Cultivation Prep Class, followed by hours of self-study stretching into the night.

Zhang Yu, however, sat alone in the near-empty cafeteria.

With no savings and zero borrowing limit left, he’d been kicked out of all his prep classes two weeks ago.

After finishing dinner, he hesitated, then took out his phone.

“Let’s try this…”

First he called Zhang Yu’s mom. No answer. Then his dad—same.

Sighing, he dug through the mental archive of memories again. Finally, reluctantly, he tapped on his sister’s number.

“Zhang Yu?”

The voice on the other end was cold.

Zhang Yu forced himself to speak. “Sis… Can I borrow some money?”

Silence. Just when he thought she’d hang up, she replied.

“Back in first grade, I told Mom and Dad you didn’t have any talent for the Immortal Path. Pursuing it would just be a waste of time and money.”

“After the divorce, Mom still believed your delusions. She tried to support your high school dreams on her own. Just recently, she even asked us for money—wanted to dip into my tutoring fund to pay for your nonsense.”

“Hah. And you, the fool with no self-awareness, actually took out a Cultivation Loan to chase your fantasy. What are you now? Neck-deep in Soul-devouring Debt?”

Zhang Yu had no defense. From what he could recall, she wasn’t wrong.

After their parents split, Zhang Yu insisted on pursuing the Immortal Path, even though his mom’s income was barely enough to live on. He took out loans. When those ran dry, he borrowed more. Again and again. Each time, his mom tried to bail him out. And each time, the hole just got deeper.

Until finally, she gave up and left.

His sister's voice came again.

“This will be the last time we ever talk. You made that debt—now go pay it off.”

“One last piece of advice: drop out and get a job.”

“I’ll transfer you 500. That should keep you alive long enough to find work.”

The line went dead.

Zhang Yu sighed. “Well… At least she sent the 500.”

Combined with the 500 Bai Zhenzhen had given him earlier, his savings had finally crossed 1,000.

Still, as he walked home, her words echoed in his mind.

“Drop out and get a job, huh…”

Back in his tiny rented room, Zhang Yu lay on his bed and stared at the moldy ceiling.

Grades plummeting. Dead broke. Crushed by debt. A body barely holding together…

He couldn’t deny it: quitting school and finding work was the smart choice.

Just then, a sharp sting flared in his palm. The strange symbol there—visible only to him—was now fully filled in with black.

At the same moment, a crisp female voice spoke beside him.

“Kid, the deity-inviting ritual is complete. You’ve got three wishes to cash in.”

Zhang Yu jerked around—and found a ragdoll sitting on his bed.

Its cloth was yellowed and faded, the stitches crooked and fraying like it could fall apart at any second. He froze.

It was the same ragdoll from the eerie ritual on the rooftop when he first arrived in this world.

The ragdoll spoke.

“Hey. You listening? Three wishes. Not one less.”

Staring at the strange scene, Zhang Yu had only one thought: Run.

By now, he wasn’t some clueless rookie.

After sorting through his memories, he knew that gods in this world weren’t just myths. They were the administrators overseeing the countless affairs across Kunxu.

But the ones officially sanctioned—the true gods of order—would never respond to a loser like him.

If his shabby ritual had summoned something, it could only be one kind of deity:

The forbidden ones. The kind hunted down by the Major Sects and the ruling gods themselves.

The kind known as evil gods.