Dao of Money

Haoran stared at the untidy stack of letters spread across the desk, the ink still glistening in places. He had been scribbling reports since dawn, and now the sight of them only made him sigh.

A draft slipped through the cracks in the shutters, making his neck hair stand up. Muttering under his breath, he pulled the wolf-fur blanket over his head. The pelt was thick and warm—one of his few indulgences since arriving here—and even it struggled against the cold.

Winter was drawing to its end, yet the past week had been the harshest so far. He could only imagine the deeper snows swallowing the northern reaches of the Kalian Empire, entire provinces buried under white. In those places, cultivators would be burning through their reserves of qi just to keep trade routes open. And there would be beasts too. Always beasts.

Even Meadow Village, with its strange defenses, wasn’t entirely safe. The air often carried the distant thrum and clang of contraptions, devices he had glimpsed only from afar—clever things that spat light and noise. They kept the walls secure, but Haoran knew better than to believe in perfect safety.

Perhaps that was why Princess Yanyue had been so quiet. No word from her since he’d left Cloud Mist City, the last message telling him to stay in Meadow Village, observe Chen Ren, and send regular reports.

And so far, it hasn’t been difficult. The influx of refugees had given him a perfect cover; he’d simply walked in with the crowd and vanished among them. The rest had been easier still. Even as a mortal with no place in the sect’s inner circle, he had found ways to gather what he needed. The wolf-fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders was proof of that.

Someone had killed a peak Tier 1 beast to make these blankets, and plenty more besides—enough for them to be sold in bulk around the village. Haoran had even heard talk of carriages taking them as far as Cloud Mist City. That alone was strange.

For a new sect to kill so many Tier 1 beasts without sustaining heavy losses was already rare enough. But here, there had been no deaths at all. A few injuries, yes, though they were quickly treated. Even if the occasional Tier 2 beast appeared, the cultivators had dealt with them without fanfare. Efficient. Almost too efficient.

Of all the people he had seen here, Li Xuan had shocked him most. Just months ago, Haoran had spoken with City Lord Li Baolong in person. He had never expected to find the man’s son out here in Meadow Village, far from the capital. That detail had gone straight into one of his letters to Princess Yanyue.

But those letters…

Haoran’s frown deepened beneath the wolf blanket. Something was wrong. The winter might make communication difficult, but for him to have no reply in over a month was unnatural, especially from the Princess. If she couldn’t send a message through merchant caravans, she would have sent one of the castle’s caged avian beasts, the ones trained to carry notes across vast distances. Yet nothing had come.

He forced the unease down. Worrying wouldn’t change the fact that he had no word from her. Princess Yanyue had people around her—cultivators, guards, advisors. She was safer than most in the Empire. His task here remained the same.

Haoran’s eyes drifted to the stack of papers on the table. The most recent letters contained his observations from the last week: the beast tamer Zi Wen bonding with a striker beak—a Tier 2 aerial predator now subdued under his will; the rumors spreading that Sect Leader Chen Ren had achieved great success in Broken Ridge City.

He doubted the last one. Broken Ridge was no place for easy growth, and he had heard the sect leader intended to challenge the city’s alchemy markets. A fool’s errand, in his opinion. But his job wasn’t to decide what was wise or foolish.

It was simply to record it all… and send it off to the Princess who, for reasons he could not name, wasn’t answering.

Folding the letters neatly, Haoran slid them into an envelope and reached into the inner pocket of his robe. His fingers closed around a small cube, its base engraved with a seal that thrummed faintly with qi.

He pressed the cube to the envelope, feeling the faint hum of qi stir beneath his fingers. A thin shimmer of light spilled across the paper, tracing lines before folding in on itself. In the space of a heartbeat, the glowing sigil bloomed into full clarity before it faded away, sinking back into the grain of the envelope as though it had never been there.

To the untrained eye, it looked like nothing more than ordinary paper now. But Haoran knew better. If anyone other than the Princess tried to open it, the enchantment would ignite in a flash, reducing the letter to drifting ash before the first line could be read.

A fail-safe keyed to her qi alone.

She had designed it years ago, drawing inspiration from something she had once read in a book. At the time, she had laughed about it, calling it a “little paranoid trick.” Now, standing in a hunter’s modest home on the Empire’s edge, Haoran couldn’t help thinking it was anything but little, and far from paranoia.

“Good enough,” he murmured under his breath.

Satisfied, he tucked the cube back into his inner pocket and rose, the wolf-fur blanket sliding from his shoulders in a heavy whisper of warmth. The chill claimed him instantly, gnawing at his skin through his robe. Still, he ignored it, bracing for the bite of the wind as he stepped out of the small room he had been calling home.

It was a guest room in the house of a village hunter—one of the better arrangements he’d managed in his work. The man had let him stay in exchange for lessons for his son and daughter: reading, writing, and mathematics. The goal was simple enough. The hunter wanted his children to join the Divine Coin Sect, which, unusually, accepted mortals. A strange ambition in Haoran’s eyes, but not one he could fault.

Food and lodging were obvious perks, but the true advantage was subtler—with the hunter’s quiet support, he could move freely through the village without anyone questioning his presence.

Outside, he pulled his cloak tighter, the fabric catching in the wind, and set off down the packed dirt street. The air smelled faintly of woodsmoke and tanned hides.

The village was livelier than when he’d first arrived. Each week, new faces had appeared—families and wanderers drawn by the stories of Meadow Village fending off beasts with ease. Chief Muyang had even ordered the construction of new houses, the skeletons of wooden frames rising like bare trees against the pale winter sky.

Strange, Haoran thought, to see a village swelling in the heart of winter. But then again, stranger things had happened in the Empire.

As he walked, several villagers glanced up from their work and gave small bows in greeting. Haoran inclined his head in return. In the Kalian Empire, scholars were afforded a measure of respect—whether earned or simply assumed—and here, far from the capital, he intended to make the most of it.

Further along, he caught sight of a group of mortal sect members and hunters working in tandem, their boots crunching over frost-hardened earth as they hauled the carcasses of freshly slain beasts toward a waiting cart. The mortals met his eyes and gave him nods rather than bows, the subtle acknowledgment of those who carried a higher status within the sect.

Haoran returned the gesture with a faint smile before moving on, his mind already shifting back to the errand at hand.

He had only befriended a handful of mortals, mostly the younger, more talkative ones. They had proven useful enough for gathering bits of information. The cultivators, though… he kept his distance.

As he reached the heart of the village, the clatter of hooves and wheels reached his ears. A few carriages stood in the open square, their canvas covers already tied down for departure.

His steps slowed when he saw who was there.

Zi Wen.

Arguably the most reliable cultivator in the village… and the one he was most cautious of. Beast tamers were rare in the Empire, and what little he’d heard of them was enough to make him wary. The fact that he had bonded with a Tier 2 Striker Beak only deepened that caution.

Still, turning around now would be more suspicious than walking past. He forced his expression into something neutral and continued forward.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Both Zi Wen and the man he was speaking with turned toward him. Gao Shun—merchant, native of Meadow Village, and a man whose boots saw more of the Empire’s roads than its inns. Every two months he passed through, trading goods from one city to another.

And every two months, Haoran entrusted him with an envelope.

He never said it needed to reach the capital, only Cloud Mist City. No mortal with sense would venture to the capital during a beast rising. Once the letter reached Cloud Mist, other agents of the Princess would see it to its true destination.

Gao Shun’s gaze settled on him, warm but sharp in the way merchants often were. “Another letter needs to be sent to your family, Haoran?”

Haoran inclined his head. “Yes. I would be grateful. And as always, I will pay a silver wen for it.”

“You must love your family a great deal,” Gao Shun said with an easy smile.

Before Haoran could answer, Zi Wen turned toward him, looking at him extremely calmly. “Where does your family live in Cloud Mist City, Haoran? Are they your wife and children?”

A small hitch tightened in his chest, but he kept it buried, bowing slightly in respect. “No, esteemed cultivator. My brother lives there. We have a good relationship, and he likes me to keep sending him letters. As you know, I’m a travelling scholar… so he worries.”

“I understand.” Zi Wen’s voice softened just slightly. “My brother is on his way to Ashen City. I worry for him too.” Then he turned back to Gao Shun. “Either way, it’s good to know about the beasts near Cloud Mist City. Thanks for your help as usual, Gao Shun.”

“It’s the least I could do for the ones protecting my home,” Gao Shun replied with a respectful bow.

Zi Wen gave him a final glance, then walked away.

Haoran let out a slow, internal breath. He turned his attention back to the merchant, who was still watching Zi Wen’s retreating figure.

“He’s one of the better cultivators I’ve met,” Gao Shun remarked. “Caring for mortals. Protecting them.”

Haoran nodded, knowing it was true, but not wanting to linger on the subject. If you wanted to avoid suspicion, you didn’t ask too much about those who might suspect you.

Instead, he simply handed over the sealed envelope and a gleaming silver coin. “Thank you for your help. Tell my brother I miss him.”

Gao Shun accepted it with a polite nod.

Haoran wanted to ask more—about Cloud Mist City, about what Gao Shun had seen on the roads—but decided against it this time. Better not to push. He turned away, already thinking of the Princess and hoping for a reply.

But what he didn’t see was the faintest smirk tugging at Gao Shun’s lips as the merchant tucked the letter away.

***

Chen Ren sat in his inn room, the account books stacked neatly at his side as he spoke with Yalan.

It had been four days since his meeting with Darkmoon Sect Leader Gao Moyue, and nothing had come of it. Nothing. He’d expected something—anything that’d disturb his peace, but no.

He had even taken the chance to pay off the last of the debt, making sure the Divine Pill Apothecary was entirely free of such chains. Even the rumors Tang Boming had mentioned—half-spoken gossip drifting from the taverns—suggested that the Darkmoon Sect was focused inward.

Apparently, Gao Moyue had begun showering the outer sect disciples with incentives, overhauling their sweatshop-style production, and pushing for individual pill making with an emphasis on innovation. It was quite a bold shift. The inner sect elders were less than pleased, if the talk Boming overheard from a drunken young master was to be believed. Hidden tensions were brewing, the sort that could gnaw at a sect from within.

If true, it meant the Darkmoon Sect could be wrapped up in its own internal changes for months, perhaps even a year.

No complaints from Chen Ren, because it was good news for him. Good time for his business to grow roots deep enough to weather whatever came next.

After going over the details with Yalan, they had reached the same conclusion: Broken Ridge City might remain quiet for them, maybe even for years.

It was the best outcome Chen Ren could have asked for. He was wealthier now than he’d ever been, able to afford things that had been far out of reach before arriving here.

Though problems still remained—none of them business. These were personal. Matters of cultivation.

Yalan’s voice broke into his thoughts. “You really think you can do it? If you falling unconscious last time was really because of your progression… it could be very dangerous.”

“That’s why I have you here with me,” Chen Ren replied without hesitation. “If you notice anything strange, pull me out. I believe I need to go into my star space to see if there’s any problem with it.”

“You haven’t been inside since coming to the city,” Yalan pointed out.

“I never had the time,” he admitted, leaning back slightly. “And I didn’t want to access it and find another problem when we were already drowning in others. Adding trouble when you’re already swamped just makes it overwhelming. Besides, Elder Hun Tianzhi said I was fine, and he’s got good healing knowledge.”

Yalan licked her paws in the most graceful way known to cats. “I’ve mostly heard of him blowing things up.”

“That’s why he has good healing knowledge,” Chen Ren said with a dry snort. “He blows things—and people—up, so he needs to know how to fix them.” The humor faded from his face. “Either way, I need you to pull me out if anything feels wrong. I’m only going to draw a trickle of the accumulated qi, just to be safe. But if it still overwhelms me… pull me out.”

Yalan purred. “If that’s the case, you know you’ll be stuck at your current strength until we find an expert on star spaces.”

Chen Ren grimaced. Truth, but harsh. That was the worst possible outcome. Experts on star spaces were as rare as soul cultivators. Most cultivators simply accepted their star space as they did qi, without fully understanding it. Hoping that wasn’t his fate, he gave Yalan a steady look.

“I’ll start now.”

She didn’t speak again, merely watching him closely as he closed his eyes and drew a deep, steady breath.

He forced down every stray thought, every lingering worry. Slowly, the familiar sensation crept in—the strange tug in his chest, the subtle weightlessness that always preceded his entry.

He let the feeling linger for a few more seconds without disturbing and slowly opened his eyes.

The astral expanse unfolded around him, vast and breathtaking as always—points of light suspended in endless black, drifting like slow-moving rivers of stardust. But his awe froze into shock.

It wasn’t the same as before.

The stars were dimmer. Chunks of space itself seemed fractured, edges crumbling away into nothingness. Wisps of light bled into the void like smoke from a dying fire.

What in the—? His star space was breaking down.

***

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