Dao of Money

Haoran moved through the marbled halls of the lord’s estate in Cloud Mist City, his soft-soled boots making no sound as he walked behind the servant guiding him. The young man bowed every few steps, showing the kind of trained courtesy that only came from a well-managed household. Haoran, however, paid him little mind.

His gaze swept from wall to pillar, tracing the cloud-pattern carvings and the subtle sheen of spirit-infused lacquer. He didn’t miss the scent of sandalwood incense drifting in the air, nor the placement of ornamental calligraphy scrolls on the walls—each poem selected not for ostentation, but for intent.

Order, virtue, diligence.

City Lord Li Baolong, it seemed, had taste. More importantly, he had balance.

Haoran had passed through too many cities over the last year, most of them bloated with decay beneath gilded roofs. Corruption, like mold, always found a way to grow in corners left unchecked. But here? The streets had been clean, the vendors sharp-eyed and unafraid. The smiths worked. The tailors worked. The laborers worked. Even the beggars looked far better than the other cities and were occasionally fed.

That was rare.

The economy here wasn’t surging to rival the capital’s trade centers, no—but it thrived steadily, like a strong river beneath the morning mist. That was the mark of a competent lord. A cautious, intelligent man.

And his men... Haoran had studied their faces as he arrived. No excessive jewelry. No secret smirks. Their armor had been well-maintained, not over-embellished. Their bellies, blessedly flat. Not the kind of flab born from indulgence and misused authority.

He could always tell. Corrupt officials always carried themselves with a certain smug weight, a false confidence inflated by stolen coins. And if they didn’t, their wives or children often gave it away. But the guards at the city gates had stood with discipline. The record-keepers in the inner office had spoken with purpose.

It helped, of course, that Cloud Mist City was so close to the Soaring Sword Sect.Where cultivators gathered, so too did merchants, craftsmen, wanderers, and seekers. Spiritual sects were like wells in the desert. They drew life. They brought coins. But coin could just as easily become poison in the wrong hands.

That was what made City Lord Li’s restraint so impressive.

He wasn’t just maintaining order. He was also supporting Princess Yanyue. And that was the real reason Haoran had come.

The Princess, despite her talents, had too few supporters in this conservative empire. She had the mind of a scholar, the grace of a diplomat, and the will of a ruler. But her cultivation lagged behind—an unfair mark in a world that too often weighed strength over wisdom.

It wasn’t right. Haoran didn’t agree with it. But what did it matter what a mere worker thought? He wasn’t a general. He wasn’t a noble. He was a servant of the court, a shadow without a name, tasked with a simple duty, find the extraordinary, and see if they could be convinced to support her.

This city had potential. The man at its head, even more so.

“We have arrived,” the servant said, bowing low.

Haoran blinked, pulled from his thoughts as the tall bronze-inlaid doors before them began to open with a gentle groan. The guards flanking the entrance stepped aside in perfect sync. They showed silent discipline and he admired it.

Beyond the doors, a spacious chamber lay bathed in soft daylight from a domed skylight. At the far end, seated with one leg crossed and his hands resting lightly on the arms of a jadewood chair, was City Lord Li Baolong.

He rose slightly at Haoran’s entrance.

City Lord Li Baolong looked every inch a man who ruled a city should look like. He wore robes of midnight-blue silk with subtle silver embroidery tracing the outline of cranes and pine, the man projected a calm and weathered strength. His features were angular, with a neatly kept beard framing his firm jaw, and his hair, though peppered lightly with grey, was tied in the traditional fashion—dignified but not ostentatious.

His eyes watched Haoran not like a host greeting a guest, but like a general evaluating an envoy. Even seated, he radiated quiet authority, as if the estate and the city beyond moved only because he allowed it.

Haoran stepped forward and offered a low, respectful bow.

“I greet City Lord Li,” he said evenly.

Li Baolong’s gaze didn’t waver. “Please, take a seat.”

Haoran nodded, accepting the offer and settling into the seat opposite the lord. He waited, posture perfectly straight.

“I hope the Princess’s health is good and that she is in high spirits,” Lord Li began with calm civility. “Word reached me that she has entered closed-door cultivation—attempting to break through to the foundation establishment realm, is that correct?”

Haoran inclined his head. “You are well-informed, my lord. She remains in seclusion even now, but the signs are promising. We expect her return soon.”

Li Baolong gave a thoughtful nod. Then, as expected, he moved directly to the point.

“So then... Why has Her Highness sent you here? I trust this is not a matter of idle curiosity.”

“It is not,” Haoran replied smoothly. “It pertains to a report you sent several months ago. Just before beginning her cultivation, the Princess read it and gave me a direct order—to come here and personally evaluate the one you mentioned. The one called Chen Ren. Or, as the city has begun to call him—Dragonheart!”

Li Baolong’s expression flickered with recognition, followed by a knowing nod.

“I expected someone to be sent sooner,” he said. “When I wrote that letter, I assumed the Princess would act quickly.”

“I had intended to,” Haoran admitted. “But the empire... has been turbulent lately. We lost Immortal Silver Jade not long ago. Marquis Daomi petitioned the Emperor to authorize an expedition to avenge his death, and several sects supported the motion. However, the Emperor declined—concerned that any confrontation with the suspected party would cost us far more.”

He sighed softly.

“I was drawn into the mess, and only now have I been released to fulfill my original task. And now, I would like to discuss Chen Ren.”

At that, Lord Li’s brows lifted slightly in surprise. “You may be too late.”

Haoran’s gaze sharpened. “Too late?”

“Chen Ren is no longer in the city,” Li Baolong said with a faint sigh, though his tone remained level. “From what my men tell me, he’s moved on to a small place called Meadow Village. There, he’s established a sect of his own. Divine Coin Sect, they call it.”

“A sect?”

“That’s right,” Lord Li said. “When I sent you that report, he was at the body forging realm. But in truth, he had already broken through to qi refinement by the time he left. And despite being offered discipleship by Vice Sect Leader Yan Xiu of the Soaring Sword Sect... he declined. Instead, he chose to found his own sect.”

Haoran frowned slightly, not in irritation but in contemplation. This was... not what he’d hoped. He had wanted to meet Chen Ren quickly, assess him, and return to the capital in time for the next set of political maneuverings.

But now…

“This person seems... peculiar,” he murmured. “A qi refinement cultivator creating his own sect? That’s not something I’ve seen before.”

“No,” Lord Li agreed, “nor have I.”

“I believe the Princess will find him interesting as well,” Haoran added, lips tightening slightly before relaxing again. “Can I know more? His lineage? His temperament?”

Li Baolong leaned back slightly, the faintest glimmer of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I did look into him,” he admitted after a pause. “Once he started gaining attention in the city. He’s not from here—originated from Red Peak City. From what my sources could gather, he was banished for some reason. Came here afterward, likely hoping to enter the Soaring Sword Sect. But that didn’t go well. He was severely injured around that time in their entrance examinations by my own son, Li Xuan...”

He trailed off briefly, then continued.

“But once he recovered, he didn’t try for the sect again. Instead, he turned his focus toward coin. Built up a noodle business—a delicacy that he said originated from the barbarians—and made a surprising amount of profit. With that, he started investing in himself. His cultivation rose quickly. Too quickly, some thought.”

Haoran tilted his head. “He bought pills?”

“That was the theory,” Li Baolong confirmed. “His spirit roots are low, nothing impressive. Everyone assumed he was using wealth to supplement his progress. But… after the tournament, it was clear there’s more. The golden dragon”

Haoran leaned forward slightly. “So, it’s true he’s connected to the great being.”

“I think so. The dragon came to his aid. What type of connection he has with it? Only he can, but I’m inclining towards the dragon being his spirit manifestation.” Li Baolong folded his hands, then added, “As for lineage, the Chen Clan is Red Peak’s foremost cultivator family. So he’s got the blood, no doubt about it. But personality…”

He exhaled with a faint smirk.

“He’s scheming. Not the malicious kind, at least not yet—but certainly clever. And he doesn’t play fair.”

Haoran narrowed his eyes in interest. “Scheming?”

Li Baolong gave a short, amused laugh. “During the city’s martial tournament, he pulled a rather interesting trick. Let’s just say he managed to win rounds by using an underhanded method and manipulating the flow of the fight—without breaking a single rule. It was clever to say the least.”

Haoran chuckled. “So he’s got brains. That’s good. But his banishment worries me. You don’t exile someone from a clan like that without serious reason.”

“True. But I suppose you’ll find out more once you meet him yourself.”

Haoran exhaled, thinking about the journey he had to take to meet this man.

“If possible, one of my men can escort you to the village,” City Lord Li offered. “We could even prepare a carriage, if you prefer a more comfortable route.”

Haoran waved a hand, politely declining. “Just a guide is enough. I don’t need the extra attention.”

“As you wish,” Li Baolong said, giving a short nod.

But then he hesitated, gaze flicking toward the window as if debating whether to speak further. Eventually, he looked back and said, “May I ask something? About the Princess.”

Haoran raised a brow but nodded. “You may. As long as it’s within reason.”

“I wouldn’t dare step beyond my station,” City Lord Li said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I only want to understand something. Why is Princess Yanyue so intent on finding people with strange pasts? Unusual stories. She doesn’t just go for talent—she seems to be drawn to people with peculiarity in them. The other princes also search for talent, of course. But they look to the guardian sects. The noble academies. They wait for prestige. They care too much about face to chase shadows. But she—she hunts for outliers.”

Haoran nodded slowly, eyes distant with memory.

That—more than anything—was what made Princess Yanyue different from the rest.

While the Princes surrounded themselves with foundation establishment cultivators and clan-taught prodigies, bloated by pride and insulated by their own reputations, the Princess… she scouted the gutters.

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A farmer’s son who barely reached body forging realm but showed tactical brilliance? She would consider him.

A girl with fractured meridians but terrifying tenacity? She would test her.

Even those with poor spirit roots—but a story that stood out, a spark that refused to go out—Yanyue would find a place for them.

And in time, those sparks had grown. Many of the “unworthy” cultivators around her had risen faster than anyone predicted. Not through sect favoritism or noble blood—but through effort, through grit, and perhaps a little bit of luck and her support.

“It all began because of one man,” Haoran said, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint, nostalgic smile. “Her aide. Wei Lian.”

Li Baolong raised a brow. “Her aide?”

“Yes,” Haoran said with a nod. “Since Her Highness’s mother passed early, she was mostly raised by palace staff. Wei Lian was one of them. A commoner, originally. No cultivation to speak of, but brilliant in his own way. Rose through the ranks slowly—quietly—until he was trusted enough to work within the inner palace.”

“And this Wei Lian... influenced her?” Li asked.

“Deeply. The Princess was always fascinated by cultivators. She used to sneak into the scroll archives as a child—Wei Lian would bring her records. Tales. Case studies. You know how the royal family keeps detailed accounts of major cultivators across generations?”

Li Baolong nodded.

“Well, he used to tell her those stories,” Haoran said. “But not the ones everyone hears—not the tales of sect-heirs or divine-blooded geniuses. No. Wei Lian focused on the ones who rose from nothing. A declining clan’s forgotten scion with shattered spirit roots, who rose to become a city’s guardian. A boy from a fishing village, saved by a beast god’s blessing. A disciple who was betrayed by their sect, survived, and returned to annihilate it.”

“They all had one thing in common: some kind of fortuitous encounter. A heaven-grade manual buried in a ruined cave. An artifact that lets them slow time and cultivate faster. A soul fragment of a dead sovereign whispering guidance from within a ring.”

Li Baolong sat back in his chair.

“And those stories stayed with her,” Haoran said. “Shaped her. While the Princes waited for geniuses to fall into their laps, she learned to look for the people no one else would see. The kinds of people who just needed a spark to become something terrifying… And the thing with fortuitous encounters, is that they don’t reveal themselves until it’s already too late.”

“Too late?”

Haoran nodded. “By the time anyone realizes that some no-name cultivator is holding a heaven-grade treasure or has a celestial soul fragment whispering in his ear, the man’s already reached a level strong enough to protect himself. No one can move against him without consequences.”

The City Lord leaned back, arms crossed. “And that’s the pattern the Princess noticed.”

“Exactly.”

A moment of silence passed between them, filled with the weight of that shared realization. Then Li Baolong’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Then... does Her Highness believe Chen Ren has had such an encounter?”

Haoran’s reply came without hesitation. “It’s possible. The golden dragon’s blessing alone could be one such sign. Of course, I’ll only know for sure once I meet him face to face.”

Li Baolong’s gaze lingered on Haoran a second longer, studying him. Then, in a quieter voice, “And if he has... does the Princess intend to recruit him? Or—if it’s a treasure that he used to gain the blessing—take it away?”

Haoran chuckled softly and shook his head. “No. She knows better than that.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on his knees.

“Anyone with a fortune like that carries destiny with them. You don’t trifle with it. You don’t try to control it. All you do is earn their respect… make a connection. Offer support, not chains. The Princess understands this better than most. And I’m sure you realize how much such a person stands to gain by accepting her hand.”

“I do. Very well.” The lord said. “This has been a good talk. I feel like I understand Princess Yanyue far better now. I thank you for that.”

Haoran rose to his feet, bowing slightly. “It’s no big deal. City Lord Li has long supported her efforts and maintained a good relationship with the Princess. I’ll be sure to mention how helpful you’ve been.”

The City Lord gave a respectful nod in return. “Then I won’t hold you any longer. One of my men outside will show you the way to Meadow Village.”

Haoran offered a final, respectful bow. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

With that, he turned and left the hall. The guards outside inclined their heads as he passed, and one silently stepped forward to lead him on the next leg of his journey.

As the cool air of the estate courtyard greeted him, Haoran’s thoughts lingered on the conversation.

Chen Ren… a sect founder now, is he?

It was unusual. Bold. Ambitious.

But most of all… it bred curiosity.

A lowly cultivator, barely out of obscurity, refusing to kneel before one of the greatest sects in the region—and instead building his own path?

The seed of curiosity planted in Haoran’s mind began to grow. What kind of sect was the Divine Coin Sect? What did it stand for? What kind of disciples had it drawn?

He stepped into the streets of Cloud Mist City, a faint smile forming on his lips.

I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

***

It didn’t take long for Chen Ren to find Chief Muyang.

The old man was standing near the well at the village center, speaking to a small crowd. From their worn cloaks and weather-beaten expressions, it was easy to tell—they weren’t locals. Newcomers. Outsiders. One glance at the road leading into the village had already shown him carriages and carts trickling in like ants before a storm.

When Chief Muyang saw him approach, he quickly shooed the crowd away with a few polite words. The refugees dispersed without complaint, casting curious glances his way before moving on. Then, the chief turned to Chen Ren and gave a slight bow, his expression warming with relief.

“Young Master Chen Ren, you’re back.”

Chen Ren gave a simple nod, eyes already scanning the distant figures unloading bundles and crates into old homes. “When I entered the village, I noticed a lot of people coming in. What’s going on?”

Chief Muyang gave a wry smile, scratching his chin with a leathery hand. “It’s the winter, Young Master. These people are from the nearby villages. They wish to spend the cold season here.”

Chen Ren’s brow arched, waiting.

“As you know,” the chief continued, “when winter comes, spirit beasts tend to grow more aggressive. Their hunger and instincts flare during the cold moons. Larger cities can withstand the attacks, but small villages like ours… we always suffer casualties. It’s not uncommon for people to move closer to a city during the season for protection.”

The old man sighed, glancing back at the bustling edge of the village.

“But this year, they’ve chosen our village.”

Chen Ren narrowed his eyes slightly, already piecing things together.

“Because of the Divine Coin Sect,” he said.

Chief Muyang nodded. “Yes. Because of the recruitment and the growing reputation. Word’s spread far—about your efforts, the locust plague you helped us solve, even how you started giving the men jobs and good food. These people… they’re hoping to survive the winter here due to you.”

The chief hesitated before continuing, “We do have space. If we house them in the barns, in the storage rooms, and a few unused huts, it’ll work. I was going to agree—if they’re willing to pull their weight and help out around the village. The farms need as much help as it could get. But I wanted your word first.”

Chen Ren looked around, thoughtful.

This... wasn’t unexpected. In fact, in the memories of this body’s previous owner, such winters were even recorded as opportunities. His family used to use this very phenomenon to teach young cultivators how to hunt and defend against beasts.

But knowing about it and being prepared for it were two different things.

Yalan, Zi Wen, and Hong Yi could help defend the perimeter, of course. They were capable. But except for Yalan, the rest were still early in their training, and there weren’t enough of them. Most of the nearby beasts were Tier 1 threats—easily manageable.

But the problem was always the unknowns.

If a Tier 2 beast wandered too close—or worse, if it smelled the influx of people—they could lose everything before a second line of defense even formed. Yalan could easily look out for one and kill it, but she couldn’t be everywhere at once and he would prefer to do it without her help.

He folded his arms, a shadow of concern tightening in his chest.

And then… he heard it.

A sharp, faint crack in the distance. Chief Muyang didn’t flinch, and didn’t seem to hear it at all. But Chen Ren’s senses had long since sharpened beyond that of a mortal.

The sound of a bullet piercing wood.

He smiled.

Qing He and Feiyu—probably testing out the next model. And just like that, an idea formed in his mind.

He looked back at the chief and nodded once.

“Let them in,” he said. “And start building better walls. High ones. Reinforced.”

Chief Muyang blinked. “You’re sure?”

Chen Ren turned, watching the edge of the forest beyond the fields.

“The Divine Coin Sect will protect everyone here.”

The old man gave a deep bow, voice thick with gratitude. “Thank you, Young Master Chen Ren. I’ll get to work immediately.”

Chen Ren nodded absently, already thinking about where to place the new watchtowers. How to test range. How to determine impact spread. Because while the villagers thought he was preparing defenses…

He was preparing targets.

The beasts weren’t just threats.

They were going to be field tests.

***

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