Dao of Money

The quarters, as expected, didn’t have anything particularly valuable left behind. Chen Ren wasn’t surprised—after all, the two cultivators who had clearly scoured the place. Still, a few battered books remained, scattered among broken crates and half-rotted furniture.

Most of them were in poor condition, their pages water-stained, moldy, or torn, but Chen Ren flipped through them anyway while Anji inspected the walls. One of the books he held had no title, the cover faded and cracked with age, but from the few intact pages, he guessed it was about herbalism.

Meanwhile, Anji dragged one of the sturdier crates closer to the wall, balancing precariously as she pressed her hands against the stone surface, testing for any hidden mechanisms.

”You know the room’s too big,” Chen Ren said without looking up, his fingers idly brushing over the flaking paper. ”We won’t be able to find hidden pathways easily.”

”I know,” Anji called back, her voice strained as she leaned her weight against the wall. ”But I still have to try. These places were always designed with escape routes in case of an attack. And if there’s one, the quarters would be the best place to hide an entrance. Unfortunately, I only know there are pathways, but not their locations.”

Chen Ren nodded absently. Her reasoning made sense. But he also knew that after so many years, even if there had once been hidden pathways, time could have easily destroyed them—or worse, sealed them completely. Still, he didn’t stop her. Let her try. They had a few minutes before they had to regroup with Yalan and Hong Yi.

He turned his attention back to the books. Most of them had nothing useful—basic herbal recipes, faded cultivation notes, a few random sketches that barely made sense. He went through three books like that, and they all wasted his precious time. He knew he could only manage to skim one more before they had to move.

He picked up the last one, this one thinner than the rest, and he noticed the binding was loose. The first page had a crude drawing of a giant dog, almost childlike in its strokes. Curious, Chen Ren flipped further and realized this wasn’t a manual or treatise—it was a diary.

A diary that a cultivator had continued. The short entries were kept too casual, as if he was just writing his thoughts as it was.

Chen Ren read a couple. Sword practice, long, boring watch shifts and lonely rants about missing some girl he’d left behind. He took in the details of the rough portrait of her tucked between two pages. Eh, must be an old lover. He turned past it. A major reason he was even bothering to read it was because he wanted to see if he could get more information about the sect vault beyond the knowledge Anji provided to make changes in his plan to make it better. His original thoughts were fixed on divide and conquer since the cultivators had to go separate ways to properly scout out the sect vault and it had worked to his favour, but the last three cultivators were together and he wanted to see if he could add something to it to better act against them.

Page after page went by, but then, written between a few lazy entries, one scribbled note caught his eye

”Today, I’m assigned to check the flooding mechanism again. It’s been a year since anyone looked at it, and I’d rather not be the one to find out it’s broken. I hate going to the library. It’s so damp and smells like old paper. And the mechanism? It’s hidden behind a bookshelf. Had to move a ton of books just to reach it. Hope I don’t mess up and flood half the place. Again.”

The writing was messy, almost rushed, but clear enough. Chen Ren’s mind immediately started turning.

A mechanism behind a bookshelf in the library. A flooding mechanism. He sat up straighter, a slight spark lighting in his chest. Did he just find something that could give them an advantage?

He read the entry twice just to be sure and lifted his head and called out, “Anji, you need to see this.”

She hopped down from the crate and moved toward him, brushing dust off her sleeves. He handed her the diary, tapping against the scribbled passage. Her eyes scanned the lines quickly.

”Do you know anything about this mechanism?” Chen Ren asked.

Anji frowned thoughtfully. ”If I had to guess... it’s probably something set up in case of an attack. Emergency exits, flooding mechanisms—they go hand in hand. If the Void Blade Sect was under siege, the disciples could escape through secret paths while someone activated this to flood the whole place behind them.”

Chen Ren nodded, having come to the same conclusion. His mind was already racing ahead, wondering if they could turn this old trap into a weapon against the Blazing Ember Sect cultivators. In fact, it’ll be a formidable weapon against them.

”If it still works,” he said quietly, ”it would be a massive advantage.”

Anji looked at him, brows drawn together. ”What are we going to do about it?”

”First,” Chen Ren said, ”do you know where the library is?”

She thought for a moment, then pointed vaguely toward the other side of the ruins. ”If I remember correctly, it should be left of the main vault room.”

Chen Ren’s lips curved into a thin smile. ”So right along the path the cultivators are taking.”

Anji caught onto his line of thinking immediately. ”You think they’ll ignore it for now, right? Focus on the vault and deal with the library later?”

”Exactly,” Chen Ren said. ”It should be relatively undisturbed, at least until they secure the inheritance.”

Anji narrowed her eyes. ”Well, what exactly are you planning?”

”I’m thinking of making use of you. If there’s no beast guardian in the library that is.”

She crossed her arms, frowning. ”I get the gist... but you know I might not even find the mechanism. And even if I do, it might be too damaged to use. And yes, I don’t think there’s a guardian there.”

Chen Ren shrugged. ”It’s just a gamble. Even if it doesn’t work, it won’t matter. Until we find a way to control the flooding—or at least stop it before we drown ourselves—we’ll only use it as a distraction.”

As he spoke, the wheels inside his mind spinned. A plan was formed. He outlined it to her in quick, clear words, how they would separate after leaving the room, how she would locate the library and look for the mechanism, and if she found it and if it looked operational, how she would wait for his signal before triggering it.

He knew this could help them. Even a small chance was better than none. And in war, that was sometimes all you needed. By the end of the explanation, Yalan’s voice suddenly cut into his mind.

”They’ve reached the sect vault chamber.”

Chen Ren’s eyes widened slightly. ”So fast?” he asked back, surprised.

”Half the traps are either too old or broken,” Yalan said. ”And the guardian puppets inside the vault didn’t attack them when they entered. They’re broken too. But the cultivators are cautious—checking the puppets to make sure they won’t suddenly activate once they try to open the vault.”

Chen Ren nodded grimly. ”We’re coming. Hold off on any attack until we get there.”

There was no further reply, but he knew Yalan had received the message. He turned to Anji, his voice brisk. ”We need to move. They found the vault. The guardian puppets probably rusted out... no maintenance over the years. We have to hurry if we want to pull off the plan.”

Anji’s face paled, but she swallowed hard and nodded quickly. Without wasting another second, they sprinted back the way they had come. Chen Ren gave the two looted corpses a final glance, then pushed forward with no hesitation. They already knew the path now—wide, mostly clear, and much easier to move through than before.

As they ran, he caught sight of the wreckage left behind by the Blazing Ember Sect’s advance. Holes gouged into walls, broken pincer traps lying smashed on the ground, and scattered signs of old mechanisms that had long since failed or been destroyed by brute force. The cultivators hadn’t been subtle—just efficient.

Finally, they reached a branching point where the path split into several tunnels. Footsteps clearly led down the middle path—the Blazing Ember Sect’s trail was obvious even to an amateur.

”The library should be on the left side,” Anji said, slightly breathless but focused.

Chen Ren nodded, slowing only for a second. ”Good luck. Watch for any traps that might still be active. Take the puppet with you.”

Immediately, he gave a mental command. She nodded firmly, moving with the puppet behind her—not a strong warrior but enough for basic defense—and hurriedly moved toward the left passage.

Chen Ren didn’t waste time either. He followed the right path at a fast jog, keeping his senses sharp. After a short while, he spotted Yalan and Hong Yi crouching behind a massive boulder that half-covered the entrance to a large room. He ducked beside them silently as they noticed him.

Peeking out, he finally got his first proper look inside the sect’s vault chamber.

It was massive—both wide and long, and the ceiling soared higher than any room he had seen so far. In the center of the far wall stood a towering, heavy-set door, unmistakably the vault’s true entrance. A glowing orb was set into it where a handle should have been, surrounded by complex carvings of runes that seemed to be alive by how they continued to pulse.

In front of the door, three figures milled about, their attention fixed on the runes.

Just as Anji had described, one of them stood out immediately—Wang Fu. He was a tall, red hair. Even redder up close. His hands were filled with rings. But he lookedlike a very strong man. His hands hovered carefully around the runes, analyzing without touching. His eyes stuck like glue with an extremely serious expression.

Behind him stood two others. One was a short, brown haired man with daggers tucked in his torso. Chen Ren noticed his flat nose that looked like it had been broken multiple times.

The last one wore a heavier set, his armor more worn, with small nicks and scratches marring the polished surface. A deep scar across his face. He had the air of a veteran bruiser, someone who favored blunt force over subtlety.

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Along the sides of the room, two giant stone puppets loomed, one on each side of the vault door. They stood easily nine feet tall, and he could say that the exterior of their bodies were cracked. Both had gaping holes punched into their stomachs—likely from the Blazing Ember Sect cultivators trying to find and destroy the cores. Whatever life they had once held was gone.

Chen Ren’s sharp observation was broken by Yalan’s voice again, cutting into his mind.

”You’re late,” she spoke mentally. ”What happened to the other two?”

”They’re dead.”

There was a small pause, then Yalan asked, ”Where’s Anji? Is she—”

Chen Ren interrupted her before she could finish. ”No. I sent her to do something. We found a description of an old mechanism. If it’s still working, it could help us win this fight.”

Yalan turned to look at him like he had lost his mind.

Chen Ren wasn’t surprised. She didn’t seem like the type to appreciate last-minute, chaotic plans—but to him, it fit perfectly. The enemy wasn’t expecting anything. That was exactly the window he needed.

Without wasting another moment, he mentally outlined her every bit of his plan. Yalan listened, her frown deepening by the second, but didn’t interrupt. Once he finished, she sighed heavily through her nose, then closed her eyes for a second, reaching out mentally to Hong Yi to relay everything.

When Hong Yi turned to look at Chen Ren, he had the same expression Yalan did—part incredulity, part resignation.

Chen Ren only smiled faintly. They might think I’m crazy... but it’ll work. Or at least, it’ll cause enough chaos for us to make a move.

Trying anything now would be foolish, the two Blazing Ember Sect cultivators standing back weren’t just idle—they were sharp, their eyes constantly sweeping the room. They would spot the smallest disturbance.

”Can you get in touch with Anji?” he asked Yalan.

Yalan closed her eyes again, focusing. After a moment, she grimaced. ”My communication skills don’t work well over larger distances... but I’ll try.” Seconds ticked by before she opened her eyes. ”I can reach her. It’ll just take a few more seconds for messages to pass.”

Chen Ren nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the cultivators. ”Did she find it?”

”She’s still searching,” Yalan replied. ”But she said she found the bookshelf mentioned in the diary. There were hints as to which one it was in more entries.”

Chen Ren’s lips quirked into a small, approving smile. ”Good enough. That’s all we needed.”

He glanced again at the cultivators, still bent over the vault’s rune-locked door, carefully tracing patterns and murmuring among themselves. They hadn’t noticed anything yet. That wouldn’t last.

Yalan sighed under her breath, her expression tight. ”Alright. I hope this works.”

Chen Ren chuckled softly. ”Even if it doesn’t,” he said, ”I have my [Starlight Defense Technique]. I can take one good hit at least—and if I’m right, the chaos will buy me enough time to dodge the rest.”

Yalan gave a short nod, then relayed the final details to Hong Yi, who responded with a single firm nod, nothing more. Everything was set. Chen Ren reached into his robe, pulling out the simple but precious object he had prepared—the mask. Smooth, featureless, but imbued with light illusion formations.

He slipped it on.

Immediately, the transformation took effect. His young, clear features melted away, replaced by the wrinkled, sagging skin of an old man, almost grotesque with how the ”flesh” seemed half-melted under invisible years of decay. He carefully adjusted his sleeves, hiding the smoothness of his arms inside the loose folds of his robe.

An ancient cultivator, frail but cunning, now crouched where Chen Ren had been a moment ago. Chen Ren thought the disguise couldn’t have been more perfect for this moment.

Without wasting time, he bent down and scooped up Yalan, who had already shifted into her kitten form. She clambered onto his back, hiding herself under the folds of his robe where only a faint glint of amber eyes could be seen if one looked too close.

He glanced once at Hong Yi, who gave him a sharp, determined nod, his face hardening into focus. And then, Chen Ren hunched his shoulders, composed his breathing into something rougher, shakier, and strode forward into the vault room.

The instant his footsteps echoed against the stone floor, the Blazing Ember Sect cultivators snapped to attention.

Three heads turned sharply toward him. Their eyes narrowed and their vigilance shot up immediately. The scout in particular moved fast, two daggers flashing into his hand with a metallic hiss, and the heavier bruiser tensed like a coiled spring, ready to charge.

Chen Ren’s heart pounded once—but he stayed calm.

A second later, Yalan’s qi pulsed sharply from behind his back. It wasn’t aggressive—but it was heavy, ancient, an overwhelming force that filled the room in an instant. The reaction was immediate.

The daggers lowered a fraction. The brute shifted uncertaintly. Even Wang Fu’s sharp eyes flickered with caution.

They froze.

Still working as well as ever, Chen Ren thought, hiding his inward grin. Seeing all eyes fixed on him, Chen Ren took the opening and opened his mouth, slipping fully into the role.

”It seems,” he said, voice slow and rasped, dragging syllables like a true elder, ”the sect grounds have finally found some visitors willing to give this old man some company.”

He took a few slow, shuffling steps forward, the illusion of frailty flawless.

”Unfortunate,” he continued, sighing with mock sadness, ”that you chose to break everything I built, rather than simply come and talk to me. I had good tea, once.”

He let the words hang in the air, doing his best old-man impression—gravelly, wistful, even a little cracked with age. Inside, a tight coil of tension wound itself through him. Part of him truly expected them to attack at any second. These were fire-aspected cultivators, after all—hot-blooded, short-tempered, used to solving problems with swords and flames. At least, that was the stereotype around them.

But surprisingly, they didn’t move.

They listened.

Chen Ren took the chance and pressed on, letting a small, sad chuckle escape his lips.

”At least two of your companions...” he said, shaking his head like a disappointed grandfather, ”They met me before you. But they were... rude.”

He let the last word linger a little too long, deliberately.

”And so,” he finished, tilting his head slightly, ”I had to teach them a few lessons.”

At his words, Chen Ren saw their eyes flicker—shifting briefly toward the bloodstains still drying on his robes. Blood that had splattered during the earlier battle. He almost smiled behind the mask. Good. I’m glad I didn’t bother cleaning it off.

The scout, who was the twin brother of the girl they had faced earlier—visibly paled. His hands tightened at his sides and he took a step forward, half out of instinct, half out of fear.

Only the suffocating qi that Yalan continued to pulse from his back seemed to stop him from doing anything reckless.

And then, finally, Wang Fu spoke, his voice measured but edged with suspicion.

”Who are you?”

The question was exactly what Chen Ren had been waiting for. He let a slow, heavy breath escape his lips, as though the weight of centuries pressed down on his back.

”I am the guardian of this vault,” he rasped, letting his voice tremble slightly with the weight of false years. ”The one tasked with waiting... centuries... for the rightful heir to the inheritance to arrive.”

He let his words sink in, watching as uncertainty grew in their eyes.

”But all I have seen,” Chen Ren said, ”are bastards who carry not even a hint of the Great Void’s legacy in their dantian.”

His gaze, hidden by the mask, swept across each of them as if judging and finding them lacking.

”And for that...” he finished, his voice lowering into something almost grave, ”you will be punished.”

He raised one hand slightly—not threateningly, just enough to draw their attention.

”Not by me,” he said, letting the faintest smirk twist beneath the mask, unseen, ”but by the vault grounds themselves.”

***

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