Dao of Money

Chen Ren hadn’t expected the shop’s opening day to bring in waves of customers. If he did, that would mean that he hadn’t learned anything during his time in this world.

Selling perfume to mortals was one thing—impulse purchases, curious noses, a low-stakes decision. But pills? That was a different battlefield entirely. Cultivators didn’t part with their spirit stones easily, especially not for something as critical as a pill that might determine whether they lived through their next battle or not. Trusting a new supplier wasn’t just risky—it could be fatal.

Even if his pills had solid purity, even if he believed in them, what guarantee did a rogue cultivator have? Reputation mattered more than price in a place like Broken Ridge.

That was why he’d sent people to the border gates to hand out free pills. Let them try it. Let the pills speak for themselves. A taste of what Divine Pill Apothecary had to offer.

It wasn’t even that costly. Thanks to the pill standardization method he’d introduced, they could produce dozens of pills per batch with near-perfect success. Other sects spent five times the resources and still ended up with waste. Divine Coin Sect’s method? It was clean, consistent, and far more efficient.

He hadn’t expected a miracle—just a start. A few curious cultivators walking in. A trickle of sales. Enough to keep the fire burning while word-of-mouth spread. Get their foot in the door, become the go-to place for rogue cultivators. That was the idea.

But it seemed the heavens had other plans.

By the end of the first hour, the front door hadn’t creaked once.

By the second, Chen Ren had taken a seat behind the counter and cracked open an alchemy tome Hun Tianzhi had lent him. By the third, he had read through half of it.

He looked up from his book to see the shelves fully stocked. The counter was spotless, and his staff was prepared to serve customers. But the shop itself remained still. Time ticked and Chen Ren buried himself in the books, and when he looked up again, it’s been six hours and nothing had changed.

Chen Ren closed the final page of the alchemy book and placed it down on the counter with a thud. Everything around him felt still.

He leaned back and glanced at the others.

Anji was by the window, arms crossed, pretending not to keep checking outside. Tang Boming sat on a stool near the wall, flipping a coin between his fingers. The three mortals who had followed them from the Divine Coin Sect were gathered quietly behind the counter, trying to look useful despite having nothing to do.

Hun Tianzhi and his disciples had left two hours ago, along with the workers from the supply line. They’d left with polite nods and awkward encouragements—“You’ve got this, Sect Leader Chen.” “We will come by to check in later.” and “Hope it all goes well!”

He wasn’t angry. He understood. No one wanted to be in the room when reality came knocking. When all the hard work turned up empty and it was a scary feeling overall. They didn’t want to witness it, and Chen Ren understood.

But he couldn’t help but sigh and mutter under his breath, “Maybe I messed up the marketing. Maybe they really don’t want flavoured pills after all.”

Anji turned from the window. “We did have three cultivators come in to look around.”

He gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. But they didn’t come because of our flyers or those pills we handed out. They just saw a new shop and wandered in. Window shoppers. They don’t count.”

The curious customers rarely turn into a sale, he thought to himself.

“Want me to head to the border gates again? Hand out more pamphlets?” Tang Boming shifted, leaning back in his chair until it creaked.

“No. The guards already gave you two warnings. I don’t want you getting chased off or worse. Let’s not poke that bear again so soon.”

Tang Boming grunted but didn’t argue. The coin in his hand stilled, and silence returned to the shop once more.

Outside, the street bustled like always. But inside the Divine Pill Apothecary, time dragged.

It was getting frustrating. Chen Ren exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. His thoughts were starting to spiral.

It’s just one day, he told himself. You don’t fold a business after one bad morning.

But the optimism he’d clung to earlier was thinning. Truth was—he had been excited. Genuinely. This had been his first real step into the immortal market, and he’d believed in every part of their plan. Now, sitting in the silence of a still-empty shop, that same excitement twisted into something heavier.

Business is like this, he reminded himself. Even if you do everything right, it doesn’t guarantee results. That’s just how it goes.

He forced himself to look at the positives. They had a good setup. A standardized process that other sects couldn’t replicate. Solid purity. Unique flavors. Low cost. If he kept at it… maybe it would still work. Maybe—

The door creaked open.

Chen Ren looked up, heart thudding just slightly. Four figures stepped in, their robes streaked with mud and dried blood, dust clinging to their boots and shoulders. His qi flared instinctively as his eyes caught the gleam of weapons and armor—but he stopped himself.

Their faces weren’t hostile, they just looked… tired and curious. But mostly, tired. And Chen Ren could already tell that they were cultivators.

The one at the front—a tall man with a longsword strapped to his hip—walked straight toward the counter. His eyes swept over the interior before settling on Chen Ren.

“This the Divine Pill Apothecary?” he asked. “The one that gave out free pills a few days back in the morning?”

Chen Ren straightened. “It is. Looking for pills?”

The man nodded. “Yeah. We tried the qi replenishment one on the field today. I swear, at first I thought it was just some sweet you’d handed out—but then I felt my qi bounce back. It was… strange. But good.”

He tapped a finger on the counter.

“If the price is right, we’ll take at least a dozen.”

Before he could even finish, Anji had already moved behind him, her hands working quickly. She reached into the storage drawer, pulled out a clean batch of qi replenishment pills, and placed the jars gently on the counter.

The man reached into the jar, pulled out one of the pills, and held it up to the light. He turned it in his fingers, gave it a cautious sniff, then looked back at Chen Ren.

“How much for one?”

“Three low-grade spirit stones,” Chen Ren replied. “Purity’s at sixty percent.”

The man’s brows lifted. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t lie to a customer. You’ve tried them already—you know how they work. A dozen will come to thirty-six, but I’ll give you a discount. Thirty-three spirit stones.”

The man turned to glance at his companions. One of them gave a small nod.

“Alright. Give me a dozen… and add three bone-refining capsules.”

Chen Ren returned the nod. “Right away.”

Behind him, Anji was already moving, nimble and practiced, retrieving the jars from their assigned shelf. As she placed them on the counter, the soft chime of the door opening rang again.

Another group of cultivators stepped inside—dust-covered, worn, eyes scanning the interior with cautious interest. One of them called out, “This the shop that gave out the free pills earlier?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Tang Boming stepped forward to greet them in a friendly tone. Chen Ren watched as the conversation played out, just like before. Another sale, maybe.

He blinked, processing the shift.

Why now? Why not earlier?

Thousands of possibilities ran through his head but finally, one clicked in place.

They’re rogue cultivators.

Of course they hadn’t shown up during the day. Most of them would’ve been out in the wilds, pushing through dangerous terrain, scavenging beast cores, hunting. That armor they wore? Scratched, dented, bloodied. They hadn’t had an easy time out there. They’d only just come back to the city.

They were here now because their packs were lighter. Their pills were gone. And they needed more.

He had been foolish to expect a steady stream of customers throughout the day. Not yet. That would only come after reputation took root. Right now, this was the real start—the first trickle of the people he needed to impress.

These weren’t just any customers. These were the ones who would return.

And the next two hours passed in a blur.

One group came in, then another. Dust-caked cultivators, some walking with a limp, others nursing shallow wounds, stepped through the door with cautious eyes and curious expressions. Most didn’t linger long—some haggled, some scoffed at the limited selection, and more than a few left empty-handed.

But not all.

A good number bought. And with every clink of spirit stones exchanged across the counter, Chen Ren’s doubts thinned. Slowly, steadily, confidence returned to his stride. Maybe the marketing hadn’t failed after all. Maybe it had simply needed time.

By the end of the day, they’d sold nearly eighty pills. Nothing earth-shattering, but far more than he had expected. He allowed himself a small smile as he ate dinner that night—modest success, but success nonetheless.

What he didn’t expect… was that this was only the beginning.

The following day, they didn’t have to wait until dusk. Customers began arriving by noon, and by afternoon, the shop had a steady stream of cultivators filing in and out. Most were rogue cultivators—lone wanderers, small hunting parties, or mercenaries passing through Broken Ridge. They weren’t the type to hoard wealth. Their coin pouches were light, their risks high, and their reliance on pills absolute.

And Chen Ren’s pills were cheap compared to what was selling outside, clean and effective. Of course, it was pleasant to swallow.

It happened the classic way.

One cultivator tried them, found they worked, and told a friend. That friend told someone else. Curiosity bloomed into trust, and trust turned into sales. Word spread like wildfire through the rogue cultivators community, and the name Divine Pill Apothecary started floating in the air, moving onto the conversations at inns and border lines.

It was shocking to say the least, but by the end of the third day, the results were undeniable.

Every morning, the doors opened to waiting footsteps. Every evening, the shelves needed restocking. And by now, even the other pill shops had started to notice. Chen Ren could feel the shift in the air—the way passing cultivators glanced at his storefront longer than necessary, or how some men in grey robes took notes near their counter before slipping away without buying anything.

Divine Pill Apothecary was no longer just another new store. It was a contender.

Even when customers left empty-handed, the sight of a busy shop was worth its weight in gold. Foot traffic bred more foot traffic. Curious glances turned into steps through the door, and steps often led to sales.

With the way rogue cultivators operated—burning through pills faster than they earned spirit stones—it didn’t take long for a pattern to emerge. Within just a few days, Chen Ren noticed familiar faces returning. Repeat customers. But more than that, there was an increasing stream of new ones—fresh-faced cultivators who looked around Broken Ridge like they hadn’t quite figured out the rules yet.

That part wasn’t a coincidence. Chen Ren had made sure of it.

A few quiet bribes to border guards and innkeepers—the right people in the right places—had been enough to start a whisper campaign. He made sure it was nothing too obvious, just helpful ‘directions’ passed along to new hunters: If you’re starting out, check out Divine Pill Apothecary. Cheap pills. Good stuff. Might save your life.

It wasn’t illegal. He wasn’t buying customers—just… nudging them toward the truth.

The guards didn’t complain. They got a few pills for their patrol kits. The innkeepers earned a handful of spirit stones. And Chen Ren got exactly what he wanted: a rumor every rogue cultivator would hear within their first week.

Divine Pill Apothecary. Cheap. Reliable. Life-saving.

The same words echoed over and over.

Of course, not all of it was his doing.

Tang Boming had taken it upon himself to get drunk in every tavern he could find—loudly slurring praises about “tasty pills” and “healing like a sect elder spat qi into your mouth.” Embarrassing, yes. But effective? Definitely.

And with attention came customers. But attention also brought trouble.

By the fourth day, there was a steady stream of mischief. Nothing too serious—at first. A young master scoffing at the “peasant prices.” A rogue cultivator demanding free samples because “the heavens chose him.” Ego, entitlement, and more than a few overinflated senses of self-worth wandered through his doors.

Chen Ren took it in stride.

After all, business was growing. And if the worst that came with success was a few loud idiots, he’d take that trade any day.

Most of the arrogant ones came from far-off villages, where yes—they had been special. In a place where no one else had spirit roots, even the dimmest flicker could make someone feel like a chosen one. But Broken Ridge wasn’t a village. It was the real world. And here, the wild lands didn’t care about your childhood dreams. And out there, these men and women with inflated egos met sharp claws, venom and fangs.

Chen Ren didn’t need to humble them. The beasts would do it for him. Still, despite the occasional nonsense, he couldn’t help but feel satisfied.

The shop was working.

There was a steady flow to it now—spirit stones clinking into the register, pills moving off shelves, voices haggling just enough to feel like business was real. The stream of spirit stones wasn’t a flood yet, not enough to erase their debts overnight, but he knew it was growing. Therefore, he didn’t have to worry too much. Instead, take time to shift his thinking.

Chen Ren’s initial plan had been simple: focus on pills, perfect them, sell them and conquer the market. But Broken Ridge had more to offer than just cultivators needing healing.

So, after a week of running the shop, he turned his attention to the next step. Something bigger. Something riskier. An idea that would demand time, spirit stones, and manpower—but if it worked, it could bring in more than just profit that would help his sect massively in the long run.

And Chen Ren was nothing if not serious about it.

***

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