Dao of Money

Li Qingfeng ran like his life depended on it—because it did.

Behind him, thousands of zombies thundered across the dead, cracked soil of the Corpse Land. Wind tore through his clothes and lashed at his face, pushing him forward with every step. He was desperate to get to safety. But the horde was relentless. From time to time, the rotting mass would hurl one of its own like a projectile, hoping to strike him down with the weight of the dead.

Zombies were supposed to be mindless husks, driven only by hunger. But after centuries in the Corpse Land, some had… changed. Developed the barest hint of cunning. Just enough to make them terrifying.

Beside him, his twin sister Li Qingxue panted hard, her black braid whipping in the wind. She kept twisting around, her bow flashing with pale light as qi-condensed arrows exploded into the horde. Each shot took down clusters of undead, but the swarm only grew, pulling more corpses into its tide with every passing breath.

Ten years. They had scavenged in the Corpse Land for ten years. They had hunted, fought and survived. But never—not once—had they drawn the attention of something this large.

Li Qingfeng’s legs were starting to fail him. His chest ached. His qi pulsed faintly, like the final flicker of a lantern in a storm. Maybe… maybe this was it. Maybe his dao had run its course.

But before that thought could take root, Qingxue’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Don’t you dare give up!” she shouted. “We’re almost there! Just keep running! The wall’s close—I know it is!”

“I’ve been running for six hours!” Li Qingfeng gasped. “My qi’s nearly drained!”

Qingxue scoffed and unleashed another barrage of arrows. One of them exploded near him, shoving him forward with the force. Fifty zombies crumpled to the ground behind him.“Maybe don’t go deeper into the Corpse Land next time,” she snapped. “You heard the reports—these mindless fucks have been acting weird lately.”

“And you still followed me!” he shot back.

“I only followed you,” she said, “because you’d already be dead without me.”

Above them, the sky was stained with drifting ash, casting a sickly pallor over the world. The air reeked of decay and dried blood. But up ahead, half-shrouded by dust and distance, a silhouette rose from the horizon.

The Wall. Their sanctuary. They just had to make it a few more steps.

Li Qingfeng leapt over a jagged rock, barely clearing it as another zombie lunged at his heels. “But why the hell would I know they’d start chasing us out of nowhere? I’m no diviner!” he shouted over the wind. “You were the one meant to scout!”

Li Qingxue groaned. Her bow snapped another glowing arrow into place. “And I did tell you a horde was moving this way. Or we’d be flat under their feet by now.”

He frowned but didn’t answer. The banter died between them out of necessity. The wall was close now. He could feel it in his bones. If they could just reach it, the defensive arrays would handle the rest.

The absence of other scavengers told him enough—everyone else must’ve heard the rumble and fled earlier. If not, someone might’ve shown up to help. Or maybe they were just smart enough to live them on their own, not wanting to fight against a horde.

His instincts suddenly flared like a struck match. Danger. Immediate. Too close.

He whipped his head around—and saw a zombie nearly on him, its rotten hand outstretched, inches from his back. Without thinking, he yanked a talisman from his belt and tore it in half.

A flash of light erupted, followed by a roaring wave of flame. The fire surged outward, swallowing the zombies in a burst of heat and smoke. The pressure pushed them back, buying him precious seconds. He sucked in a breath and pushed forward, his legs screaming.

From ahead, Li Qingxue’s voice rang out. “That was a Tier 3 talisman! That was a month’s worth of income!”

“Money’s no use if we’re dead,” he snapped. “That thing nearly grabbed me.”

“We’ll argue after we survive,” she muttered, and he could hear the strain in her voice too now.

No more words passed between them. All their energy went into running. Dodging. Surviving. And then—he saw it up close. The Wall.

It rose like a sleeping giant from the cracked earth. The surface was carved from black stone and had glowing gold arrays embedded. It was fifty meters tall. To Li Qingfeng, it looked like a salvation incarnate.

Figures moved along the top—scavengers and guards in patchwork armor, some already leaning over the edge in surprise. They hadn’t expected survivors from that direction, and certainly not ones this close to the jaws of the horde.

Ropes dropped from the top, thudding onto the cracked soil. Li Qingxue grabbed one and swung herself upward without hesitation. Li Qingfeng followed, every muscle in his body screaming in protest as he climbed.

Below, the fire from his talisman had died down. But the horde hadn’t. If he had to take a guess, he’d say the wall would stand against them. It would be confirmed soon. One look at the ground made him internally shudder.

The horde had finally reached the wall and they were only halfway up.

The first wave slammed into the base with a sickening crush. For a moment, his soul left his body. The sound of flesh and bone collapse against the stone echoed upto them.

But both of them gritted their teeth and climbed faster. Li Qingfeng’s hands burnt from the rope friction and he felt his limbs tremble from exertion.

Fuck… A little more. Please, Heavens!

Just as a few corpses began clawing at the stone below, the ropes jerked upward.

Li Qingfeng’s boot cleared the edge, and strong hands pulled him in. He rolled onto the stone floor, chest heaving, just as Li Qingxue scrambled up beside him.

The ropes were yanked back, and for a moment, they both lay there—staring down.

Below them, the horde roared. They pressed against the wall, piling on top of one another in a frenzy to climb, but the wall was too tall, too smooth. Even the most determined didn’t make it more than a quarter of the way before slipping, tumbling, or getting crushed under others.

Then it came.

A shift in the air. A thrum of power that made the very stones hum beneath their backs. It was a sudden burst of qi in the air, flooding the arrays that were carved into the wall. They lit up in waves, activating one after another until the entire surface glowed like a sunrise.

Then came the fire.

Blazing torrents of flame poured from the runes, sweeping over the horde with merciless force. Screams filled the air—dry, cracked howls of things long dead. Hundreds burned every second, their bodies charred into ash or blackened husks.

What moments ago had been a threat large enough to consume them was now being turned to cinders. A few zombies at the back turned and fled, but it didn’t matter.

The Wall had done what it always did. It stood. And it destroyed.

Li Qingfeng collapsed fully onto the stone, arm over his eyes, lungs still begging for air. Beside him, Qingxue was in no better shape, both hands on her chest, trying to slow her heartbeat.

They had been seconds away from dying. A single slip, a single hesitation, and they would’ve been gone.

Just another pair of corpses in the cursed land, shuffling endlessly with no memory of who they were. No purpose. No name.

Li Qingfeng turned to his sister, still catching his breath.

“Let’s take a break,” he muttered. “Head back home. Tell our parents we’re not dead yet. Just... stay the fuck away from this cursed place for a while.”

Li Qingxue nodded, sweat still trailing down her brow. “That sounds good. I doubt I’ll step beyond this wall again anytime soon. We’ve earned enough. We can live easy in the mortal cities for a while.”

Before either could say more, a new voice cut in. It was calm, deep and held a certain awe in it. “That’s a wise decision.”

They both looked up.

An older man stood nearby, arms crossed, a long blade sheathed across his back. Beady eyes, bushy brows, long beard, tall frame. His metal armor gleamed even in the dim light, clearly inscribed with spiritual runes and reinforced with qi-etched plating. A cultivator, no doubt powerful—and wealthy enough to make them look like fledglings.

He looked at them with calm eyes and said, “There are rumours... that a corpse lord is rising.”

Li Qingxue sat up straighter, frowning. “A corpse lord? That’s impossible. Isn’t it?”

The man’s eyes shifted to the scorched remains below. Smoke rose in curling tendrils from the corpses, and the stink of burning rot hung heavy in the air.

“The undead are restless these days,” he said quietly. “And that’s the main theory. A corpse lord—something strong enough to influence the mindless. Something sending them here, toward the walls, with a purpose.”

Li Qingfeng’s brows drew tight. “You’re saying… they were commanded?”

The man nodded once. “It’s the popular theory among the sects and the stronger scavengers around here. Some say the horde patterns are too coordinated lately. There’s word of a group being formed—an investigation team. They’re pulling cultivators from several factions to go deep into the Corpse Land and confirm whether the rumors are true.”

Li Qingxue’s expression darkened. “If it is a corpse lord, then…”

“Then we’re all in trouble,” the man finished for her. “The Empire will have to intervene. It won’t stay a scavenger problem anymore.”

They both nodded grimly. A corpse lord wasn’t a myth. It was a nightmare with history.

At peak meridian expansion realm, such an existence was nearly unstoppable on its own. But worse, it could control the undead—raise them, command them, gather them into legions. It was said that when the Corpse Lands were first born from the great calamity, one such being had risen from the graves. It had taken dozens of Established sects in the leadership of the Guardian ones and an entire battalion from the Empire to destroy it. Since then, it had been a myth to scare off fresh scavengers.

Li Qingfeng exchanged a glance with his sister. Neither of them had to say it. Their decision to leave—at least for a while—had never felt more justified. He turned back toward the cultivator. “Are they going to shut down all scavenging, then?”

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The man gave a tired shrug. “Probably. But not yet. Not enough have died. The sects—hell, even the Empire—they’re all waiting for confirmation. Right now, it’s just a theory. A disturbing one, sure, but unless they find proof...”

He trailed off.

“...people will keep dying,” Li Qingxue finished for him.

The man gave a slow, quiet nod.

For a moment, no one said anything. The three of them just stood at the edge of the wall, watching the blackened field of corpses below. The flames had died, but the dread had only just begun to rise.

The man was still speaking when the ground began to tremble beneath their feet. The rest of his words fell into deaf ears as a deep, guttural rumble rose from the depths of the earth.

Then the quake hit.

The stone beneath them lurched, and Li Qingfeng had to grab the nearest railing to avoid being thrown off balance. Beside him, Li Qingxue staggered, falling into his side.

“What the hell is going on?!” he shouted, barely able to hear himself over the rising roar.

“Another horde?!” she yelled back, eyes darting toward the horizon.

Around them, chaos erupted. Cries of panic echoed across the walltop as guards and scavengers scrambled to stay upright. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone. Several cultivators flared their qi, anchoring themselves to their weapons or bracing their stance with glowing spiritual energy.

But something felt… off.

“No,” the older cultivator muttered, and his voice, though quiet, cut through the panic. “Look over there. Something’s rising... deep from the Corpse Lands.”

Li Qingfeng’s eyes snapped to the horizon and froze.

Far in the distance—beyond the ashen dunes and the broken hills—something was pushing its way out of the ground. A black structure. Vast. Monolithic. It rose slowly but unstoppably, sending tremors through the earth with every meter it climbed. The blackened trees around it cracked and crumbled, giving way to its emergence.

The siblings stared, breathless. Their mouths opened, closed, then opened again—no words forming, only disbelief.

It was built like a pagoda. A massive one, tiered and elegant in shape, but wrong in color. Pitch black, absorbing the light rather than reflecting it.

As it climbed toward the heavens, the tremors lessened. The ground stilled, but no one moved. No one even breathed.

What is… happening? Li Qingfeng narrowed his eyes.

He and Li Qingxue pulled themselves to their feet, barely registering the soreness in their bodies. They couldn’t tear their eyes away.

Now fully visible, the tower stretched high into the sky, its top shrouded in clouds. Even from this far, they could make out the carvings—inscriptions, ancient and luminous, glowing with silvery light as they caught the rays of the sun. Symbols of power—they looked like array runes.

The tremors died down and they took it all in.

It was beautiful. And terrifying…. Mostly terrifying.

“Is that… is that the Pagoda of…” the man standing next to them was cut off by his own thoughts as he continued to stare at it.

“Pagoda of what…? Tell me!”

“The… Pagoda of Eternity.”

Li Qingfeng blinked. “What?”

The man swallowed hard. “That… that is the tower said to hold the inheritance of the last nascent soul realm cultivator that was the sect leader of the sect whose remains became the Corpse Lands. A true monster. The kind that shook kingdoms. They say it was buried long ago—sealed away beneath the Corpse Lands to stop others from finding it.”

He turned to them, and for the first time, there was fear in his eyes. “I thought it was just a story. A myth. But… it’s real.”

And that changed everything.

Silence fell again.

Li Qingfeng and Li Qingxue looked at each other, the same thought rising in both their minds. Were they really going to go home now? Because whatever they had seen before—hordes, talismans, walls—it all felt small now.

And deep down, both of them already knew the answer for the question. If it was actually the Pagoda of Eternity, they weren’t ready to leave. Not yet.

***

The world flowed on.

Seasons changed. Small sects rose and fell. Stars shifted in the skies.

And the golden dragon slept.

It drifted through the spirit realm like a fading ember, its vast, serpentine body coiled in a sea of mist and forgotten dreams. Time passed like breathless eternity, and still it did not stir—could not. Its strength was broken, shattered in the moment it had chosen to intervene.

It had no regrets.

It had acted when it must—when the demonic cultivator and the spectral parasite had threatened to snuff out the life of the one it had chosen. A reckless soul, yes. A foolish one, often. But with something far rarer than raw strength, potential.

The dragon had revealed itself in that moment, spent the last of its might, not only to destroy those enemies, but to rebuild the boy’s broken body—one too fragile to contain even a sliver of the dragon’s essence. Had it not intervened, the boy’s body and soul would have burned to ash, leaving behind nothing but regrets and lost fate.

And so, the dragon had fallen into hibernation.

It could no longer whisper guidance. Could no longer shape qi into visions. Could no longer teach.

But it could still see.

Even in sleep, the dragon watched. Its gaze stretched across rivers of energy, peering into the mortal world from beyond the veil.

It saw its chosen.

Saw how the boy struggled to rise, step by bloody step. How he gathered people around him—people with weak potential, average cultivation, or no strength at all. But they followed him. Believed in him.

Potential. That was all it took sometimes. And the boy—it’s chosen—knew it too.

He believed wealth could bring power, so he chased it with feverish hunger. The dragon would have laughed, if it had lungs to do so. So wrong… and yet so right.

The world ran on cycles. Even those who knew fragments of destiny rarely understood the whole. But the dragon had seen more. It had once stood at the edge of immortal gates. It had guarded them.

And now, so too had its chosen begun to learn of his eventual path. The key to the Gate of Immortals. A relic no man held and was alive for long … and yet the boy had begun to connect to it. Slowly. Blindly.

It was not enough.

The dragon knew the moment would come when teaching would be necessary—when strength alone could not guide him through what was to come.

And that moment was near.

It could feel its body beginning to reform in the void. Could feel its power stitching itself together, scale by shining scale. Soon, it would awaken fully. Soon, it would once again enter the star space of its chosen and speak.

But not yet. For now, it rested. In silence. In waiting. Floating above the spirit seas, ever-watchful. It was protecting, healing and guarding.

Because it could feel it now. A tremor in the strands of fate. Something was coming. Something worse, way worse than what they’d gone through.

And when it arrived, the boy would need more than luck, strength, or money. He would need the dragon.

The fight for the Gate of Immortals had begun.

Of course, not openly. Not yet. But the signs were there—subtle ripples in the fabric of fate, echoed across realms both high and low. Forces long buried were stirring. Hidden sects reemerging. Ancient cultivators breaking their silence.

And in the center of it all—his progeny.

The dragon felt it with absolute certainty. The one it had chosen, the soul it had saved and rebuilt, would be drawn into the storm. Was already being drawn into it. Such was fate.

But the dragon did not intend to let him be swallowed by it. No.

When the gates opened, when the final trial came, it intended for him to stand among the worthy. To rise not as a pawn—but as a force.

Strong enough to challenge what came from beyond, strong enough to survive and strong enough to save this realm. Because if he failed—if the enemy succeeded—then nothing would remain. Forget about the sects, empires or even the stars. Everything would be devoured.

The dragon had seen such endings in other worlds. It had lived through calamities where no gods answered, where no heroes rose, where hope was just a story whispered by the dead. It would not let this world follow that path.

Not while it still had breath. Not while its chosen still had strength left to rise.

And so it waited—one eye open in the vast spirit realm, soul coiling with slowly rebuilding might.

The time was coming. The enemy was coming. And the dragon would be ready to support his chosen.

***

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