The two senior cultivators dueled, displaying all sorts of mysterious and unfathomable techniques, unleashing one powerful talisman and magical treasure after another. The two were evenly matched, battling for three days and three nights until their spiritual power was completely exhausted.

Each of them patted their waists, but instead of taking out elixirs to replenish their spiritual power,

there was a flash of spiritual light, and by the left expert’s side appeared a steaming bamboo steamer. Upon opening it, there were exactly one thousand piping hot steamed buns.

The expert on the right was not to be outdone. In front of him appeared a large bowl filled with enough egg fried rice to feed five hundred people.

They called a truce, deciding to eat their fill before resuming the fight.

So one devoured steamed buns like mad, while the other buried his head in the egg fried rice.

The scene was so beautiful, I didn’t dare to look.

……

The next morning, Henry Clark’s expression was still a bit dazed.

Sure enough, it confirmed his suspicions.

The reason he came into contact with cultivation was intricately connected to his dreams.

However...

Recalling the contents of yesterday’s dream, a wry smile appeared on Henry Clark’s face. He couldn’t say he gained nothing at all, but the result he obtained was vastly different from what he had originally imagined.

There were no cultivation insights, only one principle: eat as much as possible—the more you eat, the faster you can achieve the body-tempering effect.

He really didn’t know who wrote this secret manual. If he hadn’t already experienced its wonders, Henry Clark would have been one hundred percent convinced it was a scam.

There was another thing that left Henry Clark quite resentful: the name of the technique he was learning was simply called “Cultivating Immortality by Eating.” Very straightforward, easy to understand.

But why did it always feel like the author was just being lazy?

Just imagine, one day in the future, when he had achieved success in cultivation, gathering with a group of like-minded cultivators to exchange cultivation insights.

On such occasions, the opening remarks usually involved a self-introduction.

Others would announce impressively, “I am so-and-so from the Thousand Clouds Sect, and I practice the ‘Thousand Illusions Falling Snow Art.’ Fellow Daoists, please give me your guidance.”

The second person would step forward, their background and technique equally grand and impressive.

Finally, it would be his turn. Under everyone’s gaze, he would hold his head high, step onto the stage, and proudly announce that he was a rogue cultivator who had accidentally embarked on the path of cultivation. Up to this point, the tone was fine, but when it came to introducing the technique he had learned, he could only shyly say that the name of his cultivation method was a bit unusual, and ask everyone to brace themselves before listening.

He believed that at this point, everyone would show an expression of eager anticipation.

Then he would announce that the technique he practiced was called “Cultivating Immortality by Eating”... Saying it like that, would he get beaten up by the other cultivators? They would definitely think he was here to cause trouble and disrupt the proceedings.

A wry smile appeared on Henry Clark’s face.

But complaints aside, he was in no position to be picky now. Being able to cultivate at all was already a blessing; as for whether the technique was bizarre, who cared about that at this point?

Better to just start cultivating.

Checking the time, it was about time for breakfast.

So Henry Clark got up, washed up, and began thinking about what he should eat for breakfast today.

In the past, he could get by with just some soy milk and fried dough sticks, but now that eating was directly related to how quickly he could cultivate, he couldn’t afford to be careless.

With that in mind, Henry Clark glanced around the dorm room. His three roommates hadn’t returned yet; he had no idea where they’d gone last night.

Shaking his head, Henry Clark didn’t dwell on it and continued pondering what to have for breakfast.

Soy milk, fried dough sticks, buns, rice noodles—he ruled them out one by one. There really weren’t many places selling rice in the morning, and porridge didn’t count; it wasn’t filling at all, let alone suitable for cultivation and body tempering.

He had to eat something nutritious and high in calories.

Come to think of it, his cultivation conditions were much better than those of the person in his dream.

In the dream, Henry Clark couldn’t even be sure if that world was Earth. At first glance, it seemed much like ancient times, with relatively low productivity.

So that farm boy had to endure all sorts of hardships to cultivate, the most troublesome of which was finding food—wild vegetables, wild fruits, sometimes even edible roots and tree bark weren’t spared. He really went all out for the sake of cultivation.

By comparison, he didn’t have such worries.

Nowadays, material goods were abundant and food was plentiful. The meals at school were especially good and cheap compared to outside.

Although his monthly living expenses weren’t much, eating was never a problem.

Wait, was it really not a problem?

Maybe that was true before, but not anymore.

To cultivate, he needed to consume a huge amount of food every day—at least ten times more than before. That “Cultivating Immortality by Eating” manual made it very clear: after practicing this technique, the digestive system would be greatly enhanced, so there was no need to worry about overeating. He could eat up to a ton of food a day.

A ton is two thousand jin.

Just thinking about it made his legs go weak. Even five hundred strong men could only eat that much in a day.

Although he had just started cultivating and his appetite wasn’t that outrageous yet, it was definitely not something his usual living expenses could cover.

What should he do, ask his parents for more money?

What reason could he give?