Dao of Money

Chen Ren didn’t let any hint of disappointment touch his face. Inside, he felt the faint sting of rejection, but outwardly he remained calm—expression smooth, eyes steady. He had expected this. The medallion was a Chen Clan heirloom; there was no world where they would hand it over without resistance.

He turned to Patriarch Leijun, voice as polite as it could be. “Is there a reason why? What does this artifact do?”

Before the old man could answer, Chenglei stepped forward, his brows drawn slightly. “It’s not an artifact,” he said. “It’s a clan heirloom. I’m sure you understand. Such things are precious to us.”

Chen Ren nodded slowly, his gaze sliding back to the medallion. “That’s alright then,” he said at last. “Why don’t we move on?”

That should give them no suspicions. He turned away as if the matter didn’t bother him at all. He made sure that his steps weren’t hurried but measured. He drifted past the shelves and display cases, pretending to take interest in the vault’s other treasures. Truthfully, there were many things he found intriguing—each piece humming with qi and there were more than just weapons in the vault.

He paused before a small crystal orb sealed within a jade frame. Lightning flickered faintly inside it, flashing across the glass like trapped storm clouds. The qi that leaked out brushed against his skin.

For a few breaths, he stood still, feeling the electric pulse run up his arm. Yalan’s voice murmured in his mind, soft and knowing. “That’s a lightning orb. Formed from the core of a thunder beast. If you absorbed it, your lightning would become purer and denser.”

Chen Ren’s eyes lingered on the sphere. The temptation stirred something deep inside him. “Yes,” he thought. “It would strengthen me greatly.”

Then he shook his head, barely moving his lips as he answered her in thought. “But we can’t afford distractions. The medallion comes first.”

He stepped away, the faint hum of lightning fading behind him. From the corner of his eye, he caught the subtle frown forming on Chenglei’s face, and even the patriarch’s raised brow. They clearly were hoping for him to take the sphere and get this over with. If they thought that he was going to just pick anything, they were very wrong.

There were other treasures in the vault that he stopped in front of longer than the sphere—a slender silver sword that released qi projectiles without draining the mind, a black bow that never missed the mark, a telescope like device that let you see very far distance, and a set of jade beads that shimmered with spiritual energy. Chen Ren studied them before moving on, his expression unreadable.

To his two ignorant relatives, he might have looked like a young man browsing through items he didn’t understand the worth of. But behind his calm eyes, every glance, every step, was a hidden agenda. He wasn’t here to admire what the Chen Clan had gathered.

He was here for what they didn’t want him to have. So, he moved further.

There was also a bracelet that caught his eye—simple, unassuming, but pulsing with faint qi—that could calm a beast’s instincts. Chenglei explained everything about it when he saw him looking at it. Chen Ren paused when he saw it, thinking how much it would suit Zi Wen in bonding with more beasts. A few shelves down sat a pair of spectacles with golden frames and a faint blue sheen across the lenses. According to the plaque beneath, they could read the qi conductivity of any metal at a glance. Chen Ren could almost picture Feiyu grinning, hammering away in delight with those on his face.

The more he walked through the vault, the clearer it became—the Chen Clan was no lesser force than an Established sect. His predecessor had never thought too much about his clan’s standing and had never even stepped foot in the vault. Chen Clan’s estate, their members, their wealth—everything reflected the quiet power they held in Red Peak City. And much of it, Chen Ren knew, came from the sinkhole.

Such knowledge was enough for him to re-evaluate Chen Clan, but he kept his face straight as he moved through the end of the vault. He had already thought through every way he could get the medallion out of his clan’s hands, and he was confident in one thing after seeing how they had acted—they had no idea what the medallion truly was. They didn’t know its worth, nor what it could do. That ignorance would be his blade.

After a while, once he had looked through everything, Chenglei’s voice broke the silence. “Uh… Renjie, you don’t like anything here?”

Chen Ren turned toward him smoothly. “It’s not that,” he said. “A lot of these items are valuable, and some would be very useful for my own cultivation. But if I’m not wrong, most of them are only about a hundred years old, yes?”

Chenglei nodded, puzzled. “That’s right. Why? Is that a problem?”

Chen Ren let a faint smile touch his lips. “Not exactly a problem. But my master doesn’t have much interest in things so new. To him, a hundred years is nothing, barely a breath. He prefers ancient items, those with age and mystery to them. That’s why the medallion caught my eye. It seems… far older than the rest.”

Patriarch Leijun looked at him closely, then nodded slowly. “You’re right. It is the oldest artifact here. You have a good eye.”

Chen Ren inclined his head lightly. “I’ve seen a lot of ancient artifacts and my master’s curiosities over the years.” He paused, then added with quiet finality, “And I don’t think my master would care much for anything else here.”

He looked at the patriarch’s gaze that lingered on him. He could tell the man was thinking. After a few seconds, his hand came up to stroke his goatee. “That sounds like a problem,” he said at last.

Chen Ren stood quietly, hands folded behind his back. His gaze flickered once more toward the medallion before he spoke, tone calm but firm.

“I understand that you don’t wish to part with a family heirloom,” he said. “But unless you have something older hidden elsewhere, I believe that medallion is the only thing that would convince my master. Without it, I fear I won’t be able to persuade him to make the deal.”

Patriarch Leijun’s expression darkened slightly, the crease on his brow deepening. “You’re asking too much, Renjie. A family heirloom isn’t something we can simply give away.”

“I understand that,” Chen Ren replied smoothly in a steady voice. “But do you have anything older I could take instead? Something with the same level of age? I really don’t care if it has any function. I just need something with history.”

The silence that followed was sharp. Chenglei’s gaze darted between his father and the medallion before he finally spoke. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “we should hear what we stand to gain before deciding. If the exchange is worth it, we can discuss further.”

Chen Ren gave a small nod and reached into his robe. He took out a folded piece of parchment—the same one he had shown to the Yu Clan—and handed it to Patriarch Leijun.

The old man took it, unfolding it carefully. His sharp eyes skimmed each line in silence while Chenglei leaned over his shoulder to read. The parchment detailed the pills, the prices, and the terms of agreement—all neat, concise, and deliberate. He had even modified it a bit before coming here to write down how many pills he could provide.

Chen Ren watched the patriarch’s expression carefully, though he kept his own as neutral as stone.

Leijun’s face remained unreadable, but Chenglei’s didn’t. The man’s eyes widened as he read, his mouth parting just slightly in surprise.

Chen Ren took that as his cue to continue. “I’ll sell the pills to you at around the same rates as the Yu Clan if you decide to part with the medallion,” he said evenly. “In addition, the Yu Clan and I reached an understanding—if my pills are used during their expeditions, I receive ten percent of the sinkhole haul.”

Chenglei straightened sharply. “We don’t do that,” he said, his tone clipped. “Everything the Chen Clan recovers from the sinkhole belongs to the Chen Clan. We don’t share it with outsiders.”

Chen Ren smiled faintly, as though he had expected that answer. “Then perhaps we can negotiate. Once you have something suitable for me to present to my master as a gift, I’m sure we can find an agreement that satisfies both sides.”

Within seconds, the air thickened between them. Patriarch Leijun folded the parchment again, tapping it against his palm thoughtfully while Chenglei’s frown deepened.

Chen Ren paused for a moment, letting silence stretch just long enough to draw their attention back to him. Then, with the same calm tone, he added, “Please understand, I don’t mind selling the pills to you at a fair price. But my master is the one who sends them, and I have to make sure he’s satisfied with the arrangement. If you’d like some time to decide whether there’s something else you’re willing to offer instead of the medallion, that’s perfectly fine. I’ll be in the city for about a week longer before I continue my cultivation journey.”

He said it lightly, almost casually, and he watched their reactions closely.

“That’s fine by me,” Patriarch Leijun said. “Give us two days. We’ll have an answer for you by then.”

Chen Ren smiled faintly. “That’s acceptable. Do you mind if I take my leave for now?”

“Of course not,” Leijun replied. “Ask any servant outside—they’ll show you to the gates or get you a carriage to your inn or wherever you want to go.”

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“That won’t be necessary,” Chen Ren said, bowing slightly. “I’ll find my own way.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, his steps measured and steady until the door shut quietly behind him. A male servant quietly showed both of them to the exit.

As he left the compound and the heavy air of the Chen estate lifted off his shoulders, a small, satisfied smile crept across his lips. Everything had gone smoother than he’d hoped.

Yalan’s voice brushed through his thoughts. “What do you think? Will they give it to you?”

Chen Ren’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced back once toward the towering walls of the estate. “Probably,” he replied inwardly. “They’re more desperate than I thought. They wouldn’t have let an outsider step into their vault otherwise, especially not someone they barely know. They want the pills too badly. After seeing how much progress the Yu Clan made, they’ll do whatever it takes to catch up.”

“That’s true,” Yalan murmured. “The Chen Clan has always been hungry for power. They think whatever lies in the sinkhole will let them control the whole city.”

Chen Ren’s lips curved faintly. “Yes,” he thought. “But they’re fools. They don’t realize that the medallion they’re guarding so carelessly… is worth far more than anything buried in that pit. At least, if that old dragon is to be believed.”

The city wind brushed past him, carrying the scent of smoke and spice, but Chen Ren hardly noticed. His mind was already spinning with possibilities—two days, maybe less, before the old man decided. And when he did, Chen Ren would be ready to claim what truly mattered.

“Anyway,” he said, “let’s wait for two days. See what answer they give.”

Yalan’s voice slipped into his head like cool water. “I rechecked the vault arrays and the clan seals when you were looking at the artifacts. Everything’s as it was. No surprise traps have been added since the last time I was there.”

He looked at her and offered a small, quiet smile. “Good,” he said. He folded his hands behind his back and said, “If we don’t get the medallion in the deal…”

He stopped, breathed out, and the smile went sharp at the edges. “We steal it and get the fuck out of here.”

Yalan’s quick chuckle was all the answer he needed.

***

Apparently, they didn’t have to steal the medallion in the end. Two days later, the Chen Clan sent word—they had agreed to part with it.

Chen Ren couldn’t help but feel a flicker of surprise. Things had gone far too smoothly. In the past few months, every step of his journey had demanded schemes and misdirection. And he had always gotten into conflicts one way or another. Yet here, everything had unfolded like a polite trade negotiation.

He had walked into the city with one plan: to get the medallion, no matter what it took. And now, it sat within his reach—without bloodshed, without risk. The ease of it almost made him uneasy.

Still, he wasn’t about to complain. He guessed that in the eyes of the Chen Clan, the medallion was little more than a sentimental relic—a family symbol passed down through generations, its real value long forgotten. They didn’t see it for what it truly was: a key to the Gate of Immortals. To them, ruling Red Peak City mattered more than holding onto a trinket from the past.

He’d half-expected this outcome. After all, his predecessor had been allowed to leave the clan with another medallion just like it. Still, the lack of struggle felt strange. He’d grown used to winning through deception and obstacles, not convenience.

Yet here he was—having earned both the Chen Clan’s heirloom and the Yu Clan’s favor, while lining his pockets with more spirit stones than he could count. The city had been kind to him, almost suspiciously so.

He supposed that once the Yu Clan learned he had sold pills to their rivals, they would rage. But by then, Chen Ren would be long gone. He had no intention of staying in Red Peak City once his business was done. And really—what could they say? He’d never signed an exclusive contract. He could sell to whoever he pleased.

If anything, he might leave a letter for Yu Murong, a little note to soothe the man’s pride and lie to him on what exactly had happened, so he could still have a good contact here for the future.

For now, though, he had what he wanted. After securing the medallion, he brought it straight to Wang Jun, who examined it carefully under his eyes. Once he confirmed it was authentic, Chen Ren turned his thoughts to the next step.

The negotiations awaited.

They turned out far simpler than Chen Ren had expected. He asked for nearly the same price he’d given the Yu Clan—only ten percent higher—and they didn’t argue much. Though the Chen Clan refused to share any part of their ‘sinkhole haul,’ they agreed to part with the lightning orb he’d seen in the vault.

The orb alone made it worthwhile. Chen Ren suspected they had more of them stored away—it would make sense for a clan known for lightning cultivation. He wasn’t sure; his predecessor’s memories gave him no hint about it, but he could feel the raw lightning energy swirling inside the orb. With it, his lightning aspect would grow far stronger.

He could have pressed harder, pushed the negotiations further, but there was no need. He’d already achieved what he’d come for, and the longer he stayed in the city, the more he felt an uneasy tension crawling under his skin, as if something was about to go wrong.

Thankfully, Yalan didn’t need to return to Jadefire Hall to fetch more pills. Chen Ren had planned ahead, bringing enough from the start to ensure the deal would go through. Two days later, he sent the shipment to the Chen Clan and received his payment—neat, heavy bags of spirit stones that shimmered faintly with qi.

After that, he visited the Yu Clan one last time to collect his share from the sinkhole. The haul turned out to be mostly beast materials, nothing extraordinary, but still valuable. He already had plans to bring them to Feiyu, who could forge armor out of them.

Before leaving the city, Chen Ren left a letter for Yu Murong—a polite mix of thanks and lies, saying he had to continue his cultivation journey but valued their friendship.

With that done, his affairs in Red Peak City were over. The medallion was his, the deals were complete, and his pockets were heavy with spirit stones. All that was left was the next step—venturing into the sinkhole, hunting a beast worthy of his breakthrough, and finally moving on to the sect.

But before they could leave the city, Yalan stopped him.

She didn’t say much at first—just that she wanted him to return the favour for transporting the materials for him. So, instead of heading towards the gates, she led him down a few quieter narrower streets.

Chen Ren didn’t ask where they were going. The tone of her voice told him it wasn’t a business matter. He simply followed, silent, his steps echoing faintly on the stone.

They finally reached a wide building at the edge of the city—a Lingtang, the resting place of urns and Yalan moved inside. The air inside was still and cold, carrying the scent of old ashes and burnt sandalwood. Rows of wooden shelves stretched into the dimness, each holding bronze urns carved with family crests.

The place was mostly empty, save for a few quiet figures lighting incense or bowing before the walls. Chen Ren followed Yalan deeper in, their footsteps hushed by the stone floor.

After a while, she slowed to a stop. Her tail drooped slightly, and there was a rare hesitation in her eyes when she turned to face him.

“The last time I came here,” she said quietly, “I asked Chen Ren to visit too. Not you, the previous one.” Her voice was soft, caught somewhere between guilt and longing. “But he never did.”

Chen Ren’s brows furrowed. He looked around, the silence pressing close. “For what?” he asked.

Yalan lifted her paw and pointed ahead. Two urns sat side by side on a low stone shelf, the light from the nearby lantern painting them gold. Their names were etched neatly into the metal.

“To pay respects to his parents,” she said. “He never came. Always said he didn’t have time… or that it didn’t matter anymore.”

Her eyes softened as she looked back at him. “I know you aren’t him,” she murmured. “But maybe it would give them a little peace. To see their son’s body… still doing well in the mortal realm.”

***

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