Dao of Money

It took far more time than Chen Ren expected to bargain with Shrey.

The merchant had agreed to sell information, but every answer came with another price. A small hint cost a few hundred tokens. A clearer detail cost more. By the time Chen Ren stepped away, his tokens were lighter and his patience had grown thinner. He still didn’t know much about the fifth floor other than some crucial information, but he had learned enough about the third and fourth—where treasures were likely to appear, which areas most people avoided, and which paths were usually ignored.

That was enough.

Chen Ren didn’t plan to rush upward like the others. No, he had a better plan. Most cultivators were obsessed with climbing floors as fast as possible. Few stopped to think about why the pagoda rewarded tokens so heavily. Most of them didn’t understand what he did.

Exploration mattered. Killing mattered. Staying alive mattered. Tokens tied it all together.

Four days on the third floor. Four days on the fourth. That was his plan. That was enough time to hunt for everything he needed to set up shop. But there was a major problem.

By the time he had reached the third floor, a lot of cultivators were already moving through the vast jungle that encompassed this floor. Not just one by one, but in groups.

Chen Ren stayed away from all of them. He jumped from branch to branch, cutting through thicker areas where no one bothered to go. It slowed him down, but it kept him unseen.

Every so often, he stopped to collect different types of herbs.

Two hours passed like that.

Eventually, the trees thinned and Chen Ren stopped. He found himself standing in front of a cave. The exact location that the merchant had given him.

The first thing that came to his mind was a dragon’s maw when he saw how the entrance was curved inward. There were deep claw marks scarring the stone around it. The ground near the mouth was blackened, cracked, as if burned by fire long ago.

It looked way too dangerous for someone to casually stroll inside. But the more he stared at it, the more he realised that it was fake. It was all fake just so that the cultivators would avoid it.

Whatever was hidden inside this cave was far too valuable for ordinary cultivators to touch. But as Chen Ren took a few steps forward, he stopped and let out a quiet groan.

Footsteps.

A section of the ground was muddy, and clear footprints were pressed into it. Two sets of them.

Wang Jun laughed at his side. “Looks like nothing is ever simple for you. Rotten luck, kid.”

Chen Ren narrowed his eyes. “It will only be rotten luck if those are Guardian sect disciples. We only know three people went in. Could be mercenaries. Could be a small clan.”

“We’ll see,” Wang Jun replied. “But I wouldn’t hope for anything good.”

Chen Ren didn’t answer. He stepped deeper into the cave, moving past the mouth and into the dim passage. Whoever had gone in before him, he doubted they had found anything yet. They shouldn’t have the information he had.

Still, his mind worked quickly.

If he ran into them, should he ambush them first? Or hide and wait until they leave on their own?

He didn’t get the chance to decide.

Just past a bend in the tunnel, two cultivators appeared, walking straight toward him.

The first man had grey hair despite looking young, as if it had been leached of color. His pupils were unnaturally thin, stretched almost like a reptile’s. Chen Ren noted the way his eyes rake through his body.

The second cultivator stood slightly behind him. His skin had a dull, matte texture, like clay that had never fully hardened, and strange-looking tattoos were embedded under the surface of his neck.

Their eyes met for a brief second and Chen Ren stopped himself from frowning when he saw their familiar robes.

They belonged to the Darkmoon Sect. Though, he didn’t recognize any of them.

That was good. Maybe he could leave without trouble—

“You’re Chen Ren, right?” the grey haired man said suddenly. “Divine Coin Sect leader. I saw you during the Trials of Flames.”

Chen Ren felt like cursing on the spot.

“What are you doing here?”

He was sure Wang Jun was holding back laughter. After the Trials of Flames, most of the Darkmoon Sect probably knew his face. How could he have not thought about that?

Chen Ren still kept his expression calm. “Same thing you are,” he said. “Trying to find a way off this floor and move up.”

The tatted cultivator snorted. “I saw you on the rankings earlier. Knew it was you.”

Chen Ren ignored that and shifted the topic. “I just want to check inside. See if the portal to the next floor is there.”

The cultivators exchanged a glance, then shook their heads.

“Nothing inside,” the grey haired one said. “We already searched it. Just some lizards. Not even edible. No point wasting time.”

Chen Ren paused, choosing his words. Pushing further would only make them suspicious. He let out a small sigh.

“That’s a shame,” he said. “Looks like I’ll have to keep searching.” He gave them a polite smile. “Thanks for the information.”

Chen Ren turned to leave but his feet stopped when the air behind him rippled.

His instincts screamed. He twisted to the side as a blade of qi sliced through the spot where his neck had been a moment earlier. Stone cracked as the attack slammed into the cave wall.

Chen Ren turned back, lightning flickering faintly around his fingers.

“So,” he said evenly, “you’re not letting me go.”

The grey haired cultivator clicked his tongue. “Nothing personal. Killing you earns us merits with the sect leader.”

Chen Ren’s smile sharpened. “That’s unfortunate.” He shifted his stance. “Because killing you won’t earn me anything.” Lightning hummed louder around him. “But maybe,” he added, “you’re carrying something interesting.”

The tatted one snorted and drew his sword, rushing straight at Chen Ren. At the same time, the grey haired cultivator raised his hand, qi forming into sharp blade-shaped projectiles.

Chen Ren stayed calm.

Both of them were at peak qi refinement. He could tell that they were strong, but not strong enough.

As the sword came down toward his head. Chen Ren raised his hands, starlight armor flowing over his palms, and caught the blade barehanded. The impact rang out sharply.

The swordsman froze for half a breath, shocked. He poured more qi into the weapon, trying to push through.

Chen Ren kicked him square in the chest. The man flew back and slammed into the ground, skidding across dirt and stone.

The qi blades reached him next and he slid between them with ease, each one passing just behind him. To him, they were too slow.

And as they hit the walls, Chen Ren charged. Lightning flared around his body as he closed the distance to the grey haired cultivator. The man’s eyes widened as he hurriedly formed a shield of qi.

Chen Ren smashed straight through it.

His palm struck the man’s face, lightning exploding on impact. The cultivator screamed and was thrown backward, crashing into a rock with a dull thud. Chen Ren doubted he would be getting up anytime soon. But before he could relax, a sharp whistle cleaved through the air.

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

Chen Ren shifted aside just in time, the sword passing where his neck had been. The remaining cultivator turned, teeth clenched, fury burning in his eyes.

“You’re going to die,” the tatted man snarled.

Chen Ren met his gaze calmly. “I don’t think so.”

The sword came again and again. Chen Ren kept moving, slipping past each strike, eyes steady as he waited—watching, measuring, looking for the opening.

He saw it the moment the man overcommitted.

The Darkmoon Sect cultivator swung his blade wide, qi flaring around his shoulders. It was a desperate strike—too much force, no control. Chen Ren didn’t waste the opening.

Lightning surged through his legs. The ground cracked as he vanished from sight and reappeared behind the man.

The man wasn’t able to turn around in time and a bolt of lightning slammed into his back.

His scream echoed through the cave as the cultivator crashed face-first into the stone. Chen Ren was already on him. He grabbed the back of the man’s head and drove it down again. And again. Each impact was dull, wet, and was meant to be the final. The screams broke into choking sounds, then faded into silence.

Blood spread across the ground.

Chen Ren let go and stood up, breathing steady. He let his qi touch both of them and realised were still alive—barely. That was enough.

Wang Jun’s voice drifted out, calm as ever. “What are you going to do with them?”

Chen Ren brushed the dust from his sleeves. “I don’t know. I’ll deal with them after I get what I came for. I’m already late.”

He gave the two broken cultivators one last glance, then turned and moved deeper into the cave.

Their presence had told him enough. If they could explore the cave without coming across any threats, then he was free to rush through it, so he stopped wasting time.

Chen Ren let lightning push him fast, passing side tunnels without slowing, following the path the merchant had described. The air grew warmer every few seconds and the stone walls darkened.

Then he saw it.

A reddish moss clung to the ceiling and walls ahead, glowing faintly in the dim light. It spread like veins through the rock, thick and alive. His heart skipped a beat when he saw.

This was it.

Anyone who knew what that moss meant would know this place was anything but normal. Sadly, only a few people would ever have any idea of it.

Chen Ren only knew about it because the merchant had warned him beforehand. The moss clinging to the ceiling and walls was cinderthread moss, grown artificially. It looked dull and harmless, but he knew better. Even a tiny spark would be enough to make it erupt, collapsing the cave on anyone careless enough to trigger it.

He paused, studying the reddish growth, then stepped aside and closed his eyes.

Qi flowed out from him, thin and controlled. His new sensing technique spread like invisible threads, slipping into the stone, the ceiling, the floor. The cave peeled open in his perception. He could feel the hollow spaces behind the walls, the pressure points, the way the moss was fed and anchored. His senses reached deeper, wider—until something solid and deliberate answered back.

He adjusted his qi, narrowing it, tracing along the wall until he felt a faint irregularity in one corner. A break in the stone that didn’t belong. Chen Ren moved there and pressed both palms against the surface.

The wall shuddered.

Stone groaned, then slid apart. The cave trembled as the section he had sensed earlier split open, revealing a wide chamber beyond it.

Wang Jun let out a low whistle. “Looks like the merchant didn’t dupe you, kid.”

Chen Ren nodded. “We’ll see if it’s worth the trouble.”

He stepped inside.

Warm air rolled over him, thick with the scent of herbs, metal, and old pills. The room opened wide, far larger than it should have been. Stone tables lined the sides, their surfaces scorched and stained from years of use. Bronze cauldrons sat cold and silent, some cracked, others etched with faint alchemical runes. Racks of dried herbs hung from the walls, brittle with age but still potent. Shelves held jars sealed with wax, their contents glowing faintly in the dim light.

An alchemy lab—abandoned, but not empty.

Chen Ren breathed in once, then moved past it all.

He wasn’t here for pills or ingredients. Though, he would be putting them in his spatial ring later.

He walked deeper into the room, past collapsed stools and broken tools, until his eyes caught on something tucked away near the far wall. A stack of old books, piled carelessly, their covers worn and edges yellowed.

He picked the first one up and the title made his lips curl into a grin.

Alchemy and Immortality—Volume 1 by the Supreme Alchemist Yan Shoudao.

“This,” Chen Ren said quietly, “is what I came for.”

***

As the cultivators climbed the Pagoda of Eternity, someone watched over them. A lot of people have given him a lot of names, but in the pagoda, he was only known as the Watcher. And like his name, he watched.

He saw each of the cultivators moving through the trials the pagoda had prepared, all striving to reach the top. How many years had passed since the last time this happened? He did not know. Time had long lost its meaning to him. Still, the sight filled him with a quiet warmth. The pagoda was not abandoned. Cultivators still sought power. They still dared to challenge the heavens.

This time, there were many interesting figures among them.

There were cultivators who looked like born geniuses, their talent shining even through the pagoda’s restraints. There were demonic cultivators who cared for nothing but strength, willing to burn everything else away. There was even a mortal climbing upward with the help of a strange artifact, defying what should have been impossible.

The Watcher saw all of it.

For a moment, he wondered if some of them might truly reach the top. If one of them might stand before him at the end, receive his blessing, and finally give him someone to talk to again. But that thought quickly faded. He had seen this before. Many times.

There had been geniuses in the past. Blessed ones who seemed unmatched, cultivators who looked like the best the pagoda had ever seen. Yet in the end, they either left or died. Their bodies and wills were absorbed, becoming part of the pagoda itself.

Why would this time be any different?

As he searched for an answer, his attention settled on one individual who was still on the third floor. The Watcher focused on him more closely and saw the man speaking with an old acquaintance, something that genuinely surprised him. But more than that, he felt it.

A faint trace of something familiar stirred within the cultivator.

It was a feeling the Watcher had almost forgotten, buried beneath endless years of silence. A cultivator had entered the pagoda carrying a fragment of the Watcher’s own past with him. This had never happened before.

As he continued to observe the man—watching him uncover an alchemy laboratory, gathering its treasures, and moving onward without hesitation—the Watcher felt a rare certainty take shape.

This time might truly be different.

***

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