Dao of Money

Chen Ren lifted his hand, studying the ring in his hand, polishing it with a cloth as he felt a grin stretch on his face.

The black metal, dull and almost matte but with a thin silver groove running along the band had a faint shine to it. It was unassuming at a glance, the sort of thing a poor merchant might wear, but it sat on his finger with a weight that had nothing to do with its size.

It had once belonged to a man who attacked them from the Xueying Clan, Yushu, who’d been handed over to the city lord’s men to assist their investigation. And Yushu had been scornful until the very last second. He’d sneered even as shackles bound his wrists. “Three years and I’ll walk free,” the man had said with pride bleeding from every syllable.

For cultivators, their jail time for most of the crimes were never more than three years; and three years weren’t considered a long time compared to their lifespan.

Obviously, it was different when sects were involved. They had their own ways of punishing that were much more painful and humiliating than being put in a jail, but all things considered, Yushu chose well.

Chen Ren hadn’t answered. Just forced him to retract his hold over the spatial ring so he could take it for himself. The man wasn’t willing, but had no choice when he threatened to kill him if he didn’t do it. In the end, Yushu sighed and pressed his hand forward, letting the qi seal on the ring melt away.

A twist of spiritual intent later, the ring was his.

One cubic foot. That was all. Barely enough for what was needed and could be used in a battle. But it was his. His space to use.

In the corner of his mind, memories danced of his time back on Earth. He used to read a lot of Xianxia novels and in all of them, a spatial ring was a staple artifact to identify a protagonist with prestige and background.

And now he had one of them. He felt like he was finally worthy of the title of a sect leader.He turned the ring again, watching light ripple over it. The fact that it had come from a bandit? A cultivator who did the bidding of a clan without any morals or self respect? He didn’t care about that. In the stories, the protagonist always took treasures from their fallen enemies. This was no different.

He had won. And this was the prize.

As he polished the ring, the door creaked open with a soft thunk. Small padded footsteps followed, and a familiar scent—one part dried herbs, two parts disapproval—announced the visitor before she even spoke.

Yalan walked in, flicking her tail in the usual lazy grace, though her ears flattened slightly as she neared. She winced, nose twitching.

”You still smell like a newly married woman,” she muttered, blinking up at him like she’d just swallowed something sour.

Chen Ren’s brow furrowed. ”It’s the perfume,” he said, letting out a sigh. ”We sell a lot of them. If you were putting samples on yourself ten times a day to show customers, you’d smell the same.”

Yalan’s whiskers twitched. He could already see the sarcastic retort forming in her eyes, so he threw the conversation off a cliff before it could take flight.

”Why are you here?”

”The Tang girl’s looking for you,” Yalan said, sitting back on her haunches. ”She came back from that union meeting. Wants to talk before we head out. Honestly, I’d rather we left soon.”

Chen Ren raised a brow. ”Why’s that?”

”Because Xiulan makes better food than all the servants here,” she said with a huff. ”And it’s not even spiritual food. But at least it doesn’t taste like over boiled tree bark. Eating here makes me remember the time I cultivated alone in the mountains, surviving off qi and dew. Trust me—qi tastes like nothing. Might as well eat air.”

Chen Ren held back a grin, the corners of his mouth twitching as he stood. ”Just a second. I’ll get down, and then we’ll visit one place before heading back to Meadow.”

With that, he turned to the pile near the corner—a few folded outfits and two short daggers resting on cloth. He extended his hand, let his qi flow into the ring, and murmured the command he’d practiced in the courtyard late at night. A flicker of spiritual energy responded.

The air shimmered.

The daggers and clothes trembled—then vanished with a soft pull, disappearing into the ring as if swallowed by water.

Chen Ren exhaled, smiling. Techniques like this weren’t new to him anymore. He’d practiced multiple qi-based techniques and learned how to wield lightning.

But this… this still felt like a new type of magic. The kind that filled the delusions of kids and it appealed to that side of his.

Without a second glance, he walked away from the room.

The lower levels of the building buzzed with life.

Customers moved between counters, their robes rustling, their voices bartering, some curious, some impatient. He moved through the crowd like a fish through reeds—used to the noise, but not quite part of it.

It didn’t take long to spot Yuqiu.

She was with a group of customers, explaining something about lavender scented perfumes with the ease of someone who’d repeated the same script dozens of times. Once she passed them off to her maid, she turned and noticed him.

”How was your first union meeting?” he asked as he approached.

She blew out a soft breath. ”Felt like my first day under Scholar Wan, who was my childhood teacher,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. ”Nerve-wracking. Every word felt like a test. Half of them didn’t even bother hiding their annoyance that I was there. Some merchants are still loyal to the Xueying Clan. They looked at me like I’d dragged mud in on their fancy rugs.”

Her voice was steady, but Chen Ren could see the tightness in her shoulders.

”You stayed through it,” he said. ”That’s what matters.”

She gave him a glance—half gratitude, half doubt—but didn’t reply immediately.

”But there wasn’t much attention on me,” Yuqiu continued, folding her arms, her gaze wandering to a group of customers squabbling over a one of the latest introduced perfumes—one smelled like lotus. ”They were more focused on choosing a new union head now that Xueying Shenmu’s been suspended.”

Chen Ren’s brow lifted slightly. ”Who won?”

”Wenqing,” Yuqiu said. ”She had support from more than two-thirds of the members. It wasn’t even close.”

Chen Ren hummed in response, mind drifting back to the sharp-eyed woman with a spine like steel and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Ambition clung to her like a robe, but she’d played her role well. He remembered how effortlessly she’d helped bring Yuqiu into the union, her influence smoothing the way when others balked.

It wasn’t a bad outcome. If anything, Wenqing rising to the top only meant the union would be more pragmatic, more aggressive. And he liked that. With her there, Yuqiu would have a better chance to carve out her place—and more importantly, his business had a foothold in the structure now.

There was still plenty to do.

Yuqiu glanced up at him, her tone a bit softer now. ”Are you going to leave now?”

”Yeah,” Chen Ren said, shifting his weight. ”I plan to head out on foot. It’ll be faster to reach my sect that way. I’ve spent enough time here anyway. I want to see how things are going back at Meadow.”

Yuqiu gave a slow nod. ”Makes sense. Before you go, are you planning to get supplies?”

He nodded. ”Heading to the center of the city. Need to stock up on pills and potions.”

”Good call,” she said. ”The wilds are dangerous. I heard a Tier three beast wiped out a dozen caravans in the southern empire. And that’s an area where Tier two beasts are already rare. You never know what you’ll run into.”

Chen Ren smiled. ”I’ll be careful. But I’m not buying them for myself.”

”Oh?” Her brow arched. ”Then what for?”

”Research,” he said simply.

Yuqiu gave him a long, skeptical look, like he’d just claimed he was going to fly to the moon with two sticks and a gust of wind. ”Research?”

He nodded. ”Since the expansion’s going well, I need to think ahead. Even if the profits are flowing, I’m still just earning in coins.”

”And?”

”And a cultivator doesn’t need coins,” he said. ”A cultivator needs spirit stones. And there’s no way I’m going to get those just selling perfume to mortals.”

”Unless you start making spiritual perfume,” she said dryly.

”Exactly,” he replied, grinning. ”But I’m thinking even beyond that. Pills. Potions. The whole alchemical sector is practically swimming in spirit stones. It’s one of the most lucrative markets in the empire—and it’s dominated entirely by cultivators.”

Yuqiu blinked. ”Wait, you’re serious?”

”I’m always serious when it comes to making money,” he said.

She stared at him like he’d just declared war on the heavens. ”Just breaking into the perfume market nearly made us so many enemies. And you actually had a cost-cutting advantage there. But pills? There’s no way to lower production costs unless you’re some kind of alchemical genius. Even if you burn a mountain of gold just to start up, you’ll still be behind sects that have hundreds of years of reputation. Why would any cultivator buy from you instead?”

Chen Ren nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth tightening. Everything Yuqiu had said was spot on.

He hadn’t realized she’d studied the pill market that deeply, but her words mirrored the conclusions he’d reached through his own research. The empire’s alchemical trade was not just competitive—it was a battlefield, and one long claimed by the ancient sects. They didn’t just brew pills for their own disciples. Their disciples were the workforce, the apprentices churning out cauldrons of elixirs day and night, working in the alchemy halls like cogwheels in a well-oiled divine machine.

These sects had roots sunk deep into imperial cities, clan alliances, and supply chains that stretched across mountains and oceans. Breaking into such a business… it would be like throwing a pebble into a flood.

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Unlike perfume, where he’d had a modern edge, or noodles, which weren’t there in the empire, pills and potions were abundant. He wouldn’t just have to match the standards—he’d have to surpass them and stand out. There was no easy shortcut this time.

Still… he had a few ideas. If he could get Qing He involved—the strange, brilliant old woman who knew far more about alchemy than him—this might just become his sect’s first true step into the immortal market. A high-risk gamble, but one worth making.

He fell quiet, thoughts weaving together, calculating risks and possibilities. The wheels in his mind turned, over and over.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you.”

Yuqiu’s voice broke his trance and he looked at her. The softened voice, and the look on her face—she’d mistaken his silence.

”I think if anyone could claw their way into the pill market and actually make a profit, it’s you. But… Just think about it a bit more, alright? This isn’t like your noodle stall or the perfume shop. You won’t be fighting clans here. You’ll be fighting sects. The kind that have been around since the founding of the Empire. And they don’t play fair.”

She hesitated, then added, ”I’ve heard of sect wars starting over things like this. Trade disputes over pills and spiritual resources… and they always end the same way. One sect gets annihilated.”

She didn’t need to say the rest. And your sect is too young.

Chen Ren exhaled slowly. ”I know. I know the risks. And I’m not rushing in blind. But this is the natural way forward—for me and for the sect. I don’t want to delay it anymore. We’ve played safe long enough.”

He met her gaze once again. ”As for those sects… I don’t plan to provoke anyone I know I can’t beat.”

Yuqiu looked at him for a long moment, then smiled faintly and shook her head. ”You sound like one of those wandering cultivators who walks into a tavern, picks a fight, and ends up with a bounty on his head.”

”I’d prefer to be the guy who owns the tavern,” Chen Ren said, his lips twitching with a smile. ”And sells pills out the back.”

***

After his conversation with Yuqiu and one last look around the mall that had become the starting point of his little empire, Chen Ren picked up a few mortal grade pills and potions—strictly for research purposes—and left behind another promise to deliver the spirit rice to Wenqing soon.

Then, with a deep breath, he and Yalan took to the road.

The wide stone path leading out of the city was full of carriages, wandering merchants, and the occasional rogue cultivator. But to Chen Ren and Yalan, they were nothing but streaks of blurred silhouettes whisking past them like shadows in a dream.

The path to Meadow Village would have taken several days by a decent carriage. But with a body honed to the qi refinement realm and a pulse of thunder underfoot, Chen Ren was confident they’d make it in a day.

Or… at least, he would, if he could keep up.

Yalan was always ahead of him. Her movement technique—one he couldn’t even begin to understand—set her paws ablaze, igniting the air with bursts of fiery speed. Even with lightning crackling at his heels and wind streaking his face, Chen Ren could barely follow her flaming trail, let alone catch up.

She taunted him more than once, voice echoing through his mind, ”Slow again? I think the tortoise back there blinked faster than you could move.”

Chen Ren gritted his teeth but didn’t rise to the bait. Mostly because he had no retort—and partly because he suspected she was still holding back. He knew Yalan could be faster. She was a spirit beast in the meridian expansion realm, and if she actually tried, she could probably cross the distance in under an hour.

That thought sparked another one.

He realized then… he’d never really seen her full power.

He’d caught a glimpse when she protected him from the spectral rhinos. He’d seen her size shift effortlessly, her claws rip through illusions and bone alike. But how far could she go?

And more importantly, could he… ride her?

Mid-sprint, he asked the question over their link, trying to sound casual. ”Hey, I’ve been wondering. You know how you can grow bigger? Could you, maybe, you know… grow big enough for me to ride?”

She only answered with silence for a bit.

Then, a single, sharp glare over her shoulder that nearly made him trip.

”Do I look like some lowly mount to you?” she snapped, ears twitching in outrage. ”Keep dreaming, two-legs. My majestic self won’t lower her dignity just so you can feel cool zooming around like a brat in a folk tale.”

Chen Ren sighed, disappointed. He had already imagined it—the windswept mountains, the dramatic music in the background, himself racing across the Empire on a giant, flaming cat like something out of a special-effects blockbuster.

Not today, it seemed.

The rest of the journey passed mostly in silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional distant roar of a beast far from the road. Yalan stayed ahead, her fiery paws lighting the path, and Chen Ren focused on his own footing, using the opportunity to fine-tune his movement technique.

Each step sparked with lightning now, not just in speed but in precision. He began to learn how to shift direction mid-stride, soften landings, and conserve energy.

For now, he was far behind Yalan.

But Chen Ren had plans. And the next time he passed through this road… he wouldn’t be just a runner.

He’d be a storm.

More qi always meant more speed—but more speed came at a cost.

He had long suspected it, but this journey confirmed it: his control over qi… was still lacking.

No matter how much he pushed himself, there was always leakage. Stray threads of qi, invisible to the mortal eye but clearly seen by him—drifting into the air, mixing with the atmosphere and dissipating without use. It was subtle, but over time, it added up. He’d first noticed it with his offensive techniques—especially [Lightning Frenzy]. A quarter of the qi he poured into the technique never even made it to the target.

It just… vanished. Like throwing coins into a river and hoping they float.

If he were at the foundation establishment realm, maybe he wouldn’t have cared. At that point, he’d have a sea of qi to draw from, and minor inefficiencies wouldn’t matter. But as someone still rooted in qi refinement, with every drop hard-earned, Chen Ren knew he couldn’t afford to be wasteful.

Yalan had agreed with a low rumble of approval, her eyes narrowed in that smug kind of way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to notice. Thought about telling you, but you’ve been busy with your perfumes and noodles and… spirit rice promises.”

Chen Ren could only grunt at that. She wasn’t wrong.

Still, the road gave him room to breathe, and for once, no one was demanding noodles, paperwork, or sudden genius ideas. So he focused.

What he found was… curious.

His qi wasn’t just leaking randomly. It felt like it wanted to blend with the environment, like water naturally soaking into sand. And unless he was deliberately guiding it, his control over it vanished the moment it left his meridians.

It was like holding water in cupped hands—if he relaxed even a little, it slipped through the cracks.

Yalan described it better, “You need to grab it. Not just let it go. Like holding it with a hand made of intent. Grip it after it’s left your body. Otherwise, it’s just going to do what qi does—disperse.”

Easier said than done.

By the time the silhouette of Meadow Village rose in the distance—low sloping roofs nestled against the foothills—Chen Ren had made exactly zero progress.

But oddly enough, he wasn’t frustrated.

In fact, he was… satisfied.

He had found a flaw. A clear one. A tangible gap he could work towards closing. And in the path of cultivation, that was sometimes more valuable than a sudden breakthrough.

Still, those thoughts were pushed to the back as something else caught his attention.

Meadow Village, when he’d first arrived, had been quiet. A remote settlement tucked away from the rest of the Empire—hardly bustling, barely inhabited. But now, as he slowed near the entrance, he spotted more than a few people walking about. A gathering, even.

Mortals, merchants and a few guards stood there. He’d passed by a couple of carriages on the road and had thought nothing of it, but now he realized… they were all headed here.

Why?

There was a lot of chatter. The kind that came with people setting up tents, looking for food, speaking of opportunity.

Chen Ren narrowed his eyes, stepping through the entrance as Yalan padded beside him, tail flicking in curiosity.

Without delay, he made his way toward the village chief’s residence to know what was going on and if anyone would know, it would be him.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. And he didn’t believe in coincidence. There was a reason all these people were gathering here.

***

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