Dao of Money

After a night’s stay in Black Lotus Town, the group finally set off toward their main destination. However, when they reached a fork in the road, Chen Ren and Yalan separated from the carriage, choosing to travel on foot toward the Blood Iron Sect.

None of the others followed.

Anji and Zi Han remained behind, Whiskey looked tempted to tag along, but a single glare from Yalan made the squirrel reconsider. As for Hong Yi—he stayed in the carriage without hesitation. He had no intention of following Chen Ren into a place that could very well be his deathbed. Instead, he just gave directions to the sect, ensuring Chen Ren knew where to go.

With that, the two of them moved toward the sect alone.

Despite its intimidating name, the Blood Iron Sect was not a faction that specialized in blood arts. Their cultivation method focused primarily on defensive techniques, deriving strength from the resilience of iron itself. According to Hong Yi, the ”blood” part of the name had only been added centuries ago, when a blood-aspected cultivator rose to the position of sect leader.

That alone told Chen Ren one thing, this sect was old.

It wasn’t a guardian sect like the Soaring Sword Sect, but it had its own history, its own standing, and more importantly, its own reputation. That meant dealing with them would be far trickier.

As they walked, Chen Ren mentally rehearsed his plan over and over again. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

The path took them through a small thicket of forest, winding steadily toward the mountains in the distance. Unlike the Soaring Sword Sect, which was built atop a flattened peak, the Blood Iron Sect was located within the mountain itself. Chen Ren didn’t know whether that was due to the sect’s cultivation style or simply because they hadn’t found a better location.

Either way, it posed a problem.With a sect carved directly into a mountain, his escape options would be limited. While Hong Yi had provided some information on the exits, Chen Ren wasn’t confident that he’d be able to slip away if things turned south. Especially not as easily as Hong Yi had described.

Still, he pressed on.

The forest was quiet. Too quiet. And they did what anyone would do—keep an eye for any beasts.

As they walked inside, there were no signs of wild beasts or spirit creatures lurking in the shadows. That meant either the sect had eliminated them, or they had long since fled, unwilling to reside near cultivators. Either way, it worked in Chen Ren’s favor—an easier path meant a faster journey.

After trekking for half a day, they finally neared the sect’s entrance.

Chen Ren paused, scanning the area to get his bearings. That was when Yalan’s voice cut through the silence.

“I sense a barrier up ahead.”

Chen Ren turned to her. “A barrier?”

She nodded. “Yes. Probably a defensive formation protecting the sect. Wealthier sects always place protective arrays around their territory in case of a surprise attack. If you try to approach, you’ll be stopped by the barrier, then disciples should be alerted.”

Chen Ren nodded. “Then that means it’s time to start the plan.”

Yalan gave a slow nod, though reluctance crossed her eyes. Still, she didn’t protest. Instead, a soft glow of qi surrounded her body, and her form began to shrink. Within moments, the elegant feline was gone, replaced by what appeared to be an ordinary, but a very cute kitten.

Chen Ren blinked, then instinctively reached out, scratching under her chin.

Swat!

Her claws batted his hand away, and she gave him a sharp glare. It left a light scratch on his hand.

“Don’t waste time,” she said. “Let’s go fast, so we can get out early.”

Chen Ren let out a small chuckle but complied. He carefully picked her up and tucked her inside the inner pocket of his robe, feeling a faint pulse of energy wrap around him as he did. It was warm, reassuring even, and he allowed himself a small smile.

“I can do this,” he muttered to himself.

Then, reaching into his robes, he retrieved the Skin Mask he had taken from Hong Yi.

The item looked like nothing more than a thin, flexible sheet, yet as soon as he pressed it against his skin and activated his qi, it adhered to his face, its magic taking hold. He fed it a command, shaping his appearance into that of a slightly middle-aged man.

There was no immediate sensation of change. His face felt the same—his features familiar. Yet, when he touched his skin, it was rougher, textured like that of an older man. The transformation had worked. He touched his chin, outer corners of his lips and his cheeks—he felt the way his face had changed.

With everything in place, Chen Ren strode forward, heading toward the mountain in the distance.

It only took five minutes for Yalan’s warning to prove true.

Thud!

He struck something unseen—an invisible barrier that rippled slightly upon contact, confirming its presence. He didn’t try to force his way through. Instead, he waited.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before two figures approached.

Both were young men, clad in black robes that bore the crest of the Blood Iron Sect—a stylized iron hammer, with a faint red streak running through it like a river of blood. Their postures were rigid, their expressions unreadable.

A single glance at their aura told him what they were.

Body forging realm cultivators.

Likely outer disciples, assigned to patrol duty.

As they came to stand before him, Chen Ren didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he observed them closely, waiting for them to address him first.

He stood still, hands tucked into his sleeves. The air around him was cool, the mountain breeze carrying the faint scent of damp stone and pine. He could hear the soft rustle of leaves in the distance, the occasional chirp of a bird, but beyond that, the world was quiet. Too quiet.

One of them, the taller of the two, let his gaze linger on Chen Ren for a moment before speaking.

“Who are you?” His voice was rough, edged with the confidence of someone used to turning people away. “This is Blood Iron Sect territory. No one other than sect members is allowed here.”

Chen Ren didn’t smile. Instead, his frown deepened. “I’m just a traveling cultivator,” he said. “I have an important matter to discuss with your sect leader.”

The shorter disciple scoffed, folding his arms. “What sect are you from?”

“I’m a rogue cultivator.” Chen Ren met his gaze without hesitation. “Take me to your sect leader.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, almost in sync, the two disciples burst into laughter.

“Our sect leader doesn’t meet just any old man, cultivator or not.” The taller one smirked, arms still crossed as if the matter was already settled.

Chen Ren arched a brow. “Old man?” His voice carried no anger, but there was a weight to his words, a sharpness just beneath the surface. “It seems your sect has failed to teach you how to speak to others properly. Especially ones who can kill you without any trouble.”

The taller disciple’s smirk faltered. His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

Chen Ren didn’t answer right away. Instead, he exhaled softly, letting his qi pulse outward. It wasn’t much—just a thin ripple, a sliver of the pressure he had learned to control under Yalan’s guidance.

Instantly, the atmosphere shifted.

The smiles died.

Both disciples stiffened as a crushing force pressed down on them, invisible but undeniable. The air around them grew heavy, like the weight of a mountain had settled on their shoulders. Their feet slid half a step back before they could stop themselves.

Their breathing hitched. Their fingers twitched. Cold sweat formed at their temples.

“This isn’t even one percent of my power.” He looked at the two, lowering his qi flare. “You would be wise to take me to your sect leader.”

The shorter disciple swallowed hard, his previous arrogance cracking. The taller one clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides, as if debating whether to argue or comply.

Then Chen Ren spoke again, this time dropping the final piece.

“Tell them I’m here because of one of your disciples—Hong Yi.”

Their faces changed instantly.

The shorter one didn’t hesitate—he turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the sect, moving with the urgency of someone who knew this wasn’t a matter to be taken lightly.

The taller one remained, lips pressed into a thin line, his earlier bravado gone.

Chen Ren didn’t bother with him. He simply waited.

Then, from within his robes, Yalan’s voice brushed against his mind.

“You should’ve crippled one of them if you’re acting like a bigshot.”

Chen Ren didn’t react outwardly, only responding through their shared link.

“I don’t know if any of them have a powerful backer. I’m not here to start a war. I’m not stupid—I know how to pick my battles. Let me play the part of a calm but scary rogue cultivator.”

Yalan made a small, unimpressed noise in his mind but didn’t argue.

And so, with nothing left to do, Chen Ren stood at the sect’s doorstep, waiting.

As he waited, the stillness of the mountain path was soon broken by hurried footsteps. The disciple who had run off earlier was returning, and beside him strode a man who looked like an elder.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The man’s robe bore the same deep black as the disciples’, but his was embroidered with shiny silver symbols on the front, giving it an air of authority. His movements were composed, but his sharp gaze flickered over Chen Ren, assessing him with every step.

Stopping a few feet away, the elder inclined his head in a formal bow. ”I am Elder Kang Lhenshi of the Blood Iron Sect.” He looked at Chen Ren from top to bottom, and met his eyes again. ”I have been told you are here regarding Hong Yi.”

Chen Ren nodded. ”Yes, I need to speak with your sect leader regarding him. Is he available?”

Elder Kang’s eyes barely shifted, but Chen Ren caught the flicker of hesitation in them. The man was trying to sense his cultivation level, carefully deciding whether this was someone he could dismiss or someone that he should be cautious about. It was a smart move, looking to one honed by years of experience with rogue cultivators. Therefore, Chen Ren decided to make things easier for him.

With a subtle movement, he cupped his hands, giving Yalan the signal.

A split second later, a wave of invisible pressure pulsed from his body. It wasn’t his own strength, but Yalan’s, controlled, heavy and precise, just enough to leave an oppressive weight in the air.

Elder Kang’s face went pale instantly. His back stiffened, his nostrils flaring just slightly—small signs of fear he probably thought he was hiding well.

Then, with a quick nod, he forced himself into a more respectful stance. ”Yes, the sect leader is available. Please come with me, honored cultivator.”

The shift in tone was immediate. Even the way he looked at Chen Ren—it all changed in a millisecond.

Reaching into his sleeve, elder Kang retrieved a small bronze token engraved with a faint, swirling rune. He held it out with both hands.

”Please hold this as you step forward,” he instructed.

Chen Ren took the token, its surface cool against his fingers. As soon as he gripped it, he stepped forward, and the once-imperceptible barrier around the sect parted for him, allowing him through without resistance.

The elder gestured for him to follow. ”This way.”

Chen Ren walked behind him as they approached the mountain, the path growing steeper with every step. A massive arch-shaped entrance yawned before them—a dark, gaping hole in the stone, large enough to accommodate multiple people walking side by side.

Chen Ren eyed the entrance.

Without pausing, Elder Kang stepped inside, and Chen Ren followed.

The moment he crossed the threshold, he realized just how vast the tunnel truly was.

The ceiling stretched high above them, supported by massive stone pillars reinforced with thick iron veins, pulsing and pulsating. He could tell that the whole place was infused with qi. The air inside was cooler. Maybe because of its location—regardless, he felt chills.

Soon, they were walking down a path that was sloped downward, leading further underground rather than straight into the mountain.

As they walked, Elder Kang finally spoke again.

”Honored cultivator,” he began, and looked at Chen Ren, offering a gentle smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ”You mentioned you are here to discuss Hong Yi. May I ask what this is about?”

Chen Ren didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence linger, watching how the elder’s hands subtly clenched and unclenched at his sides—a sign that he was trying to keep his composure.

Then, finally, Chen Ren spoke.

”Hong Yi is a very important cultivator of your sect, is he?” he asked.

Elder Kang nodded. ”Yes. He has been missing for some time, and we are all deeply concerned for him.”

Chen Ren fought back the urge to chuckle at Elder Kang’s blatant lie. Deep concern for Hong Yi? Right. More like they were scrambling to figure out what happened to him, just so they could find him if he was alive.

Still, he didn’t call the elder out on it. Instead, he offered a short nod, appearing to be respectful and polite. ”I’ll speak directly with your sect leader.”

“Ah, yes. Of course,” Elder Kang said, but his lips pressed into a thin line. Chen Ren thought the man would be more keen on arguing, but no. With a gesture, he led Chen further down the sloping tunnel.

***

They walked for what felt like ages, the tunnel stretching endlessly before them. The walls, though rough, bore clear signs of human craftsmanship—chiseling marks still faintly visible on the stone. Here and there, iron sconces held flickering lanterns, their weak yellow glow creating long shadows. And all Chen Ren could smell was damp earth and boiling oil.

Then, the tunnel widened.

Chen Ren stepped forward—and his breath hitched slightly.

Beneath him, an entire underground city stretched out like a hidden world. Wow, it’s an entire city—developed at that.

Buildings, cut straight from the stone, lined the cave—inside of the mountain in neat rows. Some structures were reinforced with dark wood, their rooftops decorated with banners bearing the sect’s insignia. The streets were alive with movement—disciples in black robes hurried about, their hushed voices creating a low murmur that filled the chamber.

Further ahead, bridges of sturdy iron filled across deep crevices, connecting different sections of the city. The faint sound of running water echoed through the area, suggesting an underground river somewhere in the depths.

Chen Ren didn’t have time to take it all in.

Elder Kang barely paused, guiding him toward another tunnel on the far side of the city. They passed rows of tall, robed figures standing guard, their eyes flickering toward him in curiosity but saying nothing.

Finally, after another stretch of walking, they reached a chamber carved into the stone.

The elder pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing a modestly elegant room inside.

Chen Ren stepped in, his gaze flicking over the space.

The walls were smoothly polished, engraved with faint carvings of flowing clouds and mountain peaks. A dark wooden table sat in the center, surrounded by cushioned chairs. A single lantern hung overhead.

Everything here was designed with subtle refinement, not overly extravagant, but not entirely plain either.

Elder Kang gestured to one of the chairs. ”Please, have a seat. The sect leader will be with you shortly.”

Chen Ren nodded and sat down.

The former’s lips curled into a polite smile. ”You must have come a long way. Please rest here until I return.”

Without waiting for a response, the elder turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Chen Ren leaned back slightly, his eyes sweeping over the room.

Yalan’s voice rang in his mind. ”I believe everything is going smoothly so far.”

”Yes,” he replied mentally, his eyes taking it all in. ”But the most important part is still ahead.”

As they conversed, the door creaked open once again.

This time, it wasn’t the elder.

A young disciple, a woman entered, carrying a small lacquered tray. On it sat a delicate porcelain teapot and two matching cups. Without a word, she placed them on the table, bowed low, and silently retreated, closing the door behind him.

Chen Ren’s gaze fell to the steaming cup of tea. He didn’t touch it.

Even though the faint aroma of the tea was tempting, he knew better. For all his posturing as a rogue cultivator, his mind could still be manipulated—and there were poisons and mind-numbing herbs that could affect even someone of his supposed level.

He wasn’t about to take that risk.

Instead, he merely watched the steam curl into the air, waiting patiently for what was to come next.

But as time passed, the quietness of the room expanded. Everything felt too still, even his own heartbeat that was beating heavily in his ears. He had to calm down, therefore, he focused on his breath—inhale and exhale. Seconds stretched into minutes until, at last, the door creaked open again.

This time, two figures entered.

The first was Elder Kang. He carried himself with stiff authority, but Chen Ren noticed how his shoulders were slightly tense, as if wary of how this meeting would unfold.

But it was the man beside him who truly caught Chen Ren’s attention.

Broad-shouldered and towering, the second figure radiated raw strength. His bald head gleamed under the lantern’s glow, and his thick brows were turned into a frown. Unlike the elder, he wore a heavier, more designed robe, its darker fabric filled with embroidered iron-like patterns, almost as if to mirror the name of the sect itself.

Chen Ren could tell immediately—this man didn’t need weapons. Even through the heavy fabric of his robes, the sheer density of his muscles was apparent. His chest and abdomen were solid as iron, and each step he took made the wooden floor groan slightly beneath his weight. He just knew this man had abs beneath all that robe.

This was someone who had trained his body to the peak of its limits.

The sect leader.

The man gave a small nod in greeting before speaking.

”I am the Sect Leader Ma Tianhai of the Blood Iron Sect. I apologize for not providing you with better hospitality. I did not know such an esteemed cultivator would be visiting our humble sect.”

Chen Ren remained seated, nodding in return.

”I am Rin Ho,” he said, smoothly offering the fake name he had prepared. ”A rogue cultivator with an important matter to discuss.”

Sect leader Ma’s gaze remained steady, but his interest was clear.

”I assume this is about one of our disciples—Hong Yi?”

Chen Ren gave a slow nod.

Ma Tianhai moved toward a chair across from him and sat down, the wooden frame creaking slightly under his weight. His presence dominated the space, yet his posture remained composed, not aggressive.

Beside him, Elder Kang stiffened slightly. His eyes flickered toward Ma Tianhai before quickly darting away, his expression betraying the barest hint of unease.

Chen Ren caught the silent exchange. A subtle glance. A tightening of the jaw. A slight flinch.

”Can you tell me what happened to him first?” Chen Ren asked. ”Elder Kang informed me that he has gone missing.”

Chen Ren didn’t miss it—the way Ma Tianhai visibly tensed, fingers twitching against his sleeve before quickly masking his reaction.

Then, after a beat, he gave a slow nod and locked eyes with Chen Ren.

”Yes,” he finally said. ”Hong Yi was on a mission in a nearby city when he disappeared. We have searched extensively for him—after all, he was one of our most talented and promising core disciples.”

Then, his gaze sharpened.

”Do you have any further information about him?”

Chen Ren nodded. ”Yes, I do have information.”

He let the words settle for a moment, giving them weight. Then, with a slight sigh, he added, ”Though I doubt you will like it, considering how much you seem to care about him.”

He watched them closely as he spoke the next words.

”Hong Yi is dead.”

The room, once filled with a quiet but steady tension, shifted in an instant.

The elder’s breath caught. His lips parted as if to say something, but he didn’t speak. Ma Tianhai’s reaction was more controlled—his shoulders barely tensed, his posture remaining firm—but his eyes...

His eyes sharpened, an almost imperceptible flicker of something deeper flashing through them.

Chen Ren didn’t stop.

”I found his corpse in the Blein Forest, far from here.” He sighed again.

”He was… shredded. Bite marks covered his body—deep gouges of torn flesh and cracked bone. Half of him was already gone, clearly devoured by a Grade 5 beast. I believe it was a green fang direwolf, though I could be wrong. But the teeth marks and the size of the paw prints embedded in the ground matched its kind. It was fresh. Even his head was missing. All that remained was his torso, barely recognizable—his ribs snapped open, his insides hollowed out.”

Elder Kang inhaled sharply. Chen Ren’s eyes went to him and immediately saw it—the way the man’s fingers curled into fists at his sides, the slight paling of his skin. It was a natural reaction to hearing about a disciple’s gruesome fate, but he wasn’t convinced it was purely grief.

Still, he continued, watching every twitch, every subtle movement.

”I only managed to identify him because I found a sect crest on his remains, with his name engraved on it.” He reached into his robes, slowly pulling out the bloodstained metal emblem he had retrieved.

He placed it on the table between them. The soft clink of metal meeting wood was the only sound in the room as no one spoke.

The air grew thick—almost suffocating Chen Ren. Elder Kang turned, locking eyes with Ma Tianhai.

It was quick—just a single glance, but it was enough.

Chen Ren caught it.

The tension in their postures, the way their gazes held for a fraction too long, the silent conversation passing between them. This wasn’t the reaction of a grieving sect leader and elder.

Chen Ren kept his face neutral, but inwardly, he honed in on the exchange. The way Ma Tianhai’s brows furrowed just slightly before smoothing over, the faint twitch in the elder’s fingers, the subtle shift in their auras—as if thinking, adjusting, deciding.

If they believed what Chen Ren was telling them, then his escape would be smooth, effortless. No suspicions, no lingering doubts—just a rogue cultivator delivering unfortunate news before vanishing into the wind. More importantly, Hong Yi would finally be free from the chains that had bound him for years. Dead men carried no burdens.

But if they refused to accept the story… if they questioned him, picked apart his words, dug deeper—then cracks would form. And if they kept digging long enough, they’d find him.

That wasn’t an option.

So he waited.

His breathing was steady, his posture relaxed but not careless. His face remained unreadable, his expression carefully controlled—detached, neutral. If he showed sadness, it would be unnatural. A rogue cultivator mourning a stranger? Suspicious. If he appeared too indifferent, they might think he was hiding something. Dangerous.

So he struck a balance—calm, firm, but with just enough weight in his words to make them believe he had at least some respect for the dead.

A messenger delivering ill tidings.

Nothing more.

All the while, his thoughts churned and churned, and he prayed and prayed.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ma Tianhai turned back to him.

His face had changed. Gone was the momentary flicker of shock, replaced by a pointed stare. Chen Ren felt their calculative stares in his bones.

Then, he spoke.

”Why should I believe you, Rin Ho?”

***

Note - There was a small mention of why he can’t get star qi in morning because sun is a star in previous chapter. There’s a reason for it.

A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon. Annual subscription is now on too.

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