Dao of Money

Yun Zhaotian gritted his teeth as he pushed out all the remaining qi he had left into the surroundings. Thunder roared in response, exploding outward from his body before racing into the sky. In the next breath, hundreds of lightning spears condensed above him.

“Get out of the way!” he roared.

At once, Yan Qianyu, his junior sister, leapt backward without hesitation. The puppet answered with another metallic screech, grinding a sound Yun Zhaotian had grown to loathe. It took a heavy step forward, snow melting beneath its feet, but Yun Zhaotian thrust both hands upward and drove the lightning spears down.

They struck its chest in a relentless storm.

One spear after another pierced the puppet’s black body, splintering chunks of metal and punching glowing holes straight through it. The construct staggered, its massive frame shuddering violently before dropping to one knee. Yun Zhaotian’s eyes narrowed when it still did not fall. Even riddled with lightning, the puppet continued to tremble, refusing to die.

“Tch—still standing?”

He did not give it another chance.

Yun Zhaotian kicked off his flying sword and charged. The blade snapped back into his grasp midair, humming as qi surged through it. The puppet raised its remaining arm to block him, but Yun Zhaotian slashed without slowing. His sword carved deep into the arm, shearing through layers of black metal, sparks and molten fragments spraying across the snow.

He stepped in closer and struck again.

This time, his blade tore into the puppet’s neck. He kept cutting, pouring everything he had into the swing, until resistance finally gave way. With a dull, heavy crash, the puppet’s head fell to the ground, rolling once before coming to a stop. Its body swayed, then collapsed, all motion draining from it as the circuits within went dark.

Silence followed.

Yun Zhaotian stood there, chest heaving, lightning fading from his veins. For a moment, he wondered if his training had been lacking—if he had grown too accustomed to facing living enemies to not be able to contend against constructs. Deciding to look into the building had turned out to be more dangerous than he had expected. The puppet had taken him by surprise.

That surprise had cost them.

His gaze shifted to the side, settling on the still form of his junior brother lying in the snow. Blood continued to seep from the wound, staining the white ground red. Most of their pills were stored safely inside spatial rings that didn’t work anymore, and without immediate treatment, the man had simply bled out.

After looking at him for a few moments longer, Yun Zhaotian let out a slow breath. This was simply the way of the world. Weakness was punished, even among sect disciples. He would report the death to the elders once they returned, but for now, there was no point lingering on it.

What mattered was the building.

If it had been guarded by a puppet of this level, then whatever lay inside was undoubtedly valuable.

Yun Zhaotian turned to Yan Qianyu, and said, “Let’s go. We should find whatever is inside and leave this place.”

Yan Qianyu nodded, but after taking a few steps, she hesitated. Her brows furrowed slightly before she spoke again. “Senior brother… Did you see that man?”

Yun Zhaotian paused and glanced at her. “The one who helped us open the door?”

She nodded. “Yes. I saw him on the roof of the building for a moment, right in the middle of the fight. Then he jumped over us. I believe he already left the mountain.”

Yun Zhaotian snorted dismissively. “It’s fine. He was probably scared. In the end, he barely looked strong enough to survive in the pagoda.”

But Yan Qianyu shook her head slowly. “No, senior brother. That’s not what I meant.” She hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing, her voice lower. “What if he stole the treasures inside while we were fighting the puppet? I didn’t see anything on him, but there’s a possibility he took everything and escaped.”

At once, Yun Zhaotian’s eyes widened.

The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, flooding his chest with a mix of anger and disbelief. The possibility had never even crossed his mind. All his life, he had been taught that no one would dare scheme against the Thunder Blade Sect—not royals, not other Guardian sects, not anyone.

That belief had been absolute.

He had trusted the man when he offered help. He had seen no deceit in his eyes, no hint of treachery. But if this had been a trap from the beginning…

Yun Zhaotian’s expression darkened.

If that man had truly stolen what belonged to them, then Yun Zhaotian would make sure to burn his whole bloodline.

He took a slow, steady breath, forcing the turbulence in his chest to settle before it could turn into reckless fury. He then turned to Yan Qianyu, and said calmly, “We need to confirm whether what you’re suspecting is true.”

She nodded without hesitation. The two of them entered the building at once, splitting up to search more efficiently, with Yun Zhaotian taking responsibility for the ground floor.

He moved through each room with growing irritation. There was nothing but overturned furniture, empty cabinets, and broken chests that held no qi fluctuations at all. Every corner he checked only reinforced the same conclusion. When he finally discovered the staircase leading down, he descended into the basement with guarded anticipation—only for it to be crushed moments later.

The underground chamber was littered with discarded puppets.

Some were wooden, others metallic, all of them damaged beyond use. Yun Zhaotian crouched down and inspected several of the parts closely, his expression darkening with each passing second. None of them could be repaired quickly. None of them were worth the price they had paid outside.

If even a single functioning puppet had remained, then losing his junior brother might have been justified. But this? This was nothing more than a hollow shell.

The realization made his anger simmer quietly beneath the surface.

When he returned upstairs, he found Yan Qianyu already waiting for him, her brows drawn together in a deep frown.

“Other than a few low-grade trinkets that would only be useful to new cultivators,” she said, “there’s nothing here. Did you find anything?”

Yun Zhaotian shook his head. A ripple of qi escaped his body, cracking the air faintly around him as he spoke through clenched teeth. “We were cheated. Cheated by someone so weak. We didn’t even get to know his name!”

Yan Qianyu’s expression hardened in agreement. “Yes, senior brother. We can’t let this go. This is a stain on our honor, and on the Thunder Blade Sect’s reputation.”

Yun Zhaotian nodded once. “We’re leaving. We will catch him.”

The two of them exited the building immediately and leapt onto their flying swords, ascending into the cold sky. Before departing, Yun Zhaotian cast one last look over his shoulder at the silent structure behind them.

Then, in a voice heavy with restrained wrath, he swore to the heavens, “No matter who you are, I will find you, and I will rip your heart out with my own hands.”

***

Chen Ren felt a chill crawl up his spine as the lift began to move, carrying him toward the fifth floor. For a brief, irrational moment, it felt as though he heard a voice vowing to tear apart his bloodline, to hunt him down no matter where he ran. But that was probably just his mind making things. After all, no matter what he wanted to do, Yun Zhaotian or anyone from the Thunder Blade Sect wouldn’t be able to do much on the fifth floor. Still, Chen Ren found himself wondering if he should extend the time he planned to stay there. It was a thought he could afford later.

For now, he took a seat on the platform and glanced around.

The sight made him frown.

More than half of the cultivators gathered on the lift looked like they had crawled out of a battlefield. Robes were torn and stained dark with blood, expressions hollow and exhausted. Some leaned heavily against their companions, whispering in low voices—about retreating, about leaving the pagoda altogether. The first two floors might have lulled people into confidence, but the third and fourth floors had been ruthless. Chen Ren heard a few horror stories of the fourth floor through the whispers on the lift: herds of yak-like beasts that have charged like avalanches, trampling entire groups to death in moments, their passage no different from a living snowstorm. Beasts resembling yeti hunting down cultivators and even snow spirits that have left behind corpses.

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He watched these downtrodden cultivators in silence.

Beside him, Wang Jun’s voice drifted out in a whisper. “Don’t end up like them. They’re weak.”

Chen Ren snorted softly. “You call me weak too.”

Wang Jun chuckled. “Of course. But you’re reckless and smart. They aren’t. There’s a difference.” He paused before adding, almost thoughtfully, “Still, you never seem like a true cultivator to me. Not with how much of your mind is wrapped around business and money.”

Chen Ren smiled faintly. “That’s my dao.”

Wang Jun clicked his tongue. “I still don’t understand how money can be a dao.”

“I think the same thing sometimes,” he admitted. “But there’s no point overthinking it if it works.”

Wang Jun let out a low hum. “I suppose it makes sense,” he said. “Still, it would be nice if you could grow stronger with whatever plans you have on the fifth floor.”

“I’m hoping for that too.”

Although he nodded, in truth, he had no idea whether his dao could truly grow through tokens alone. He had been able to advance through currencies before—wen, spirit stones, tangible wealth that carried weight and meaning in the cultivation world. Tokens did not feel all that different, yet they were also not the same. Whether they could nourish his path in the same way was something he would only discover by testing it himself.

The thought had barely settled when the lift suddenly shuddered beneath his feet. Its ascent slowed, the hum of energy deepening into a strained vibration. Chen Ren looked up just as the portal above began to close in on them. He shut his eyes instinctively as a familiar burning sensation washed over his body.

When it faded and he opened them again, he sucked in a sharp breath.

They stood at the peak of a mountain.

All around him, other cultivators gasped, murmured, or fell into stunned silence. From this height, the land below spread out in full view—a vast city stretching across the plains like a living organism. Buildings and compounds rose in clusters, their architecture grand and deliberate.

Residential districts sprawled outward in neat patterns, roofs packed tightly together. Wide roads cut through the city, and along them moved vehicles that resembled rickshaws and tramps, gliding forward without any beast or mount to pull them.

People lined the streets in endless streams, moving like a vein.

In the distance, he saw a colossal structure that gleamed even from here. An entire building forged from gold, towering above everything else.

Chen Ren didn’t need to guess what it was.

Princess Yanyue had spoken of it before—the residence of the lord of the city, a man infamous for his love of ostentation. Even knowing that, the sight still felt excessive. Extravagant to the point of absurdity.

Around him, cultivators pointed toward the golden structure, voices rising as they spoke excitedly among themselves.

Finally, Chen Ren pulled his gaze away from the city. Just then, a group of guards entered the platform through a set of stairs carved into the mountainside. Conversations died instantly as everyone turned to look.

The man at the front stepped forward. He was bald, broad-shouldered, with a thick moustache, and wore heavy armour engraved with a golden beetle across the chest. His presence alone pressed down on the crowd.

“I’ll only say this once,” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly. “As the guard captain of Goldspire City, I welcome you to the largest and richest city within the Pagoda.”

His eyes swept over the gathered cultivators.

“That said, this city has laws. Break them, and you will be punished.” He raised one thick finger. “First—no infighting inside the city. If you’re caught, you go to jail. If you harm a resident, the punishment will be far worse.”

A second finger followed. “You are not allowed to run businesses under your own names, nor may you attempt to enter the Lord’s court.”

Murmurs spread, but the captain continued without pause.

“What you can do is find work at the guilds, earn tokens, eat, rest, explore the city and its surroundings. And if you have enough tokens, you may head to the far side of the city to leave for the sixth floor.”

A cultivator near the back spoke up. “The lift to the next floor is inside the city?”

The captain nodded. “Yes. You may pay for passage to leave. We welcome climbers and outsiders, but no one uses the city’s resources for free. I trust that’s understood.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

He continued listing rules—curfews, restricted districts, trade limitations, laws and customs—most of them straightforward. Only one or two stood out.

“No false portraits of the City Lord,” he said flatly. “And no speaking ill of him. Ever.”

From what he knew, City Lord Xiangrui was known to be both narcissistic and deeply insecure, so the rules fit his personality far too well.

After nearly ten minutes of listing regulations, the guard captain finally stopped speaking. He swept his gaze across the gathered cultivators and said, “You may all leave now. Just remember—follow the laws.”

At once, the crowd stirred. Confused, shocked, and more than a little impressed, the cultivators began moving down the mountain path toward the city.

Chen Ren remained on the platform, waiting until everyone else had gone. Only then did he step forward and bowed slightly toward the guard captain. “Thank you for explaining everything so clearly,” he said.

The guard captain paused, visibly surprised, before nodding. “If only we had climbers like you every time. A few groups before this had to be beaten into line.” He waved a hand. “Go on. Don’t cause trouble.”

Chen Ren nodded, genuinely pleased, and began descending the stairs.

Wang Jun’s voice drifted beside him. “Already cozying up to people in power?”

“I need to,” Chen Ren replied calmly. “If I want to start a business.”

“If you were listening,” Wang Jun said dryly, “they just told you that you can’t run a business inside the city.”

“I have plans,” Chen Ren replied.

He stepped out of the mountain tunnel and came to a halt. Before him stood a massive gate, thrown wide open, leading straight into the city. Most of the other cultivators had already dispersed into the streets beyond.

As Chen Ren moved toward the gate, he spotted a familiar figure. A man he hadn’t seen for quite some time.

“Zi Wen,” Chen Ren said with a smile. “You’re here.”

Zi Wen nodded, a spear resting across his back. “I thought you’d be coming up soon. The others are already here, and we—”

“Later,” Chen Ren cut in smoothly. “Come with me. We have something important to do.”

Zi Wen blinked. “What?”

Chen Ren’s smile widened slightly. “We need to buy out a business.”

***

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