Data-Driven Daoist

“Are there no Martial Arts manuals?” Yu Han asked the shopkeep.

“Kids these days,” the middle-aged Outer Sect disciple said with a shake of his palms. “Back in my time we would rightfully win manuals in a duel or pick them up from the corpses of our enemies—”

“Not even Common Grade ones?”

“One thousand. Not a single coin less.”

“Gold notes?”

“Spirit Stones. I’ll bite each one to see if they’re fake or nuggets.” The shopkeep shooed Yu Han away. “Smart-arse.”

Yu Han haggled, but he couldn’t get the price lower than 700.

He left the shop. It would have been better if Huang Niuniu was here. She was a master at pinching pennies.

He paced around the busy road of the Marketplace. This area had better store-fronts. Most were owned by Pavilions or affiliated Courtyards.

The more Yu Han looked into these Disciple factions, the more complicated the dynamics of Courtyards, Pavilions, and Palaces got.

For example, multiple Courtyards could merge. Pavilions could take other Courtyards under them.

Mergers and executions, so to speak. The waters of which Johan had sailed many times. But the question was, did Yu Han want to sail the same path? Did he want to be like Sima Yan, join a Courtyard and take it over by booting the founders?

He followed a line of disciples who had recently returned from the Hidden Realm, judging by the snippets Yu Han eavesdropped. His sense of hearing was now boosted, exchanged for a muted sense of smell.

“….ow many days?”

“Seven and a half, most likely. Rest up, and we’ll go in again. This time, we’re killing eight of those pigs.”

These were common-born disciples. Like most Outer Sect veterans who had been stuck in place for years, they wanted to farm up on Contribution Points and establish a Courtyard of their own. That, for them, would open many doors.

Their number one issue right now was regenerating Lifeforce. Hidden Realm excursions weren’t cosy walks in nature. Other than stocking up on consumables, most would not rush in without a tank full of HP.

Lifeforce wasn’t exactly the same as video game HP though, but it did serve overlapping functions. It was the Qi of the flesh, the bread and butter of Body Cultivators. Consumable like Qi and Essence.

Huang Niuniu and Fang Zhao, who started out with Initial Allocations of Body too, might choose to go down that path in the future.

As they passed in front of a fancy building adorned with near-transparent yet refreshingly mint vines, loud arguments came from within.

“Last week the healing potions were 12 a piece! Why is it now 15?!” a voice roared.

Yu Han stopped following his previous queries and stood under a palm tree. The wind rustled its leaves. A seagull and a crow were perched on the crown, having a staredown. One pecked at an unripe date-like fruit. The other flapped a wing and flew away.

“Dear customer, kindly keep your shouts to yourself,” a steadfast voice joined the first. “Or I’ll be forced to call the guards.”

“You can’t raise the price for no reason,” the first voice said. “You sold a bunch to those guys over there for—”

“We have a long-term agreement with the Young Master’s Courtyard,” the second voice, presumably an employee of the shop or even the shopkeep, said with a not so polite chuckle. Even Yu Han cringed at the condescending tone.

A few moments later, a burly-looking Outer Sect Disciple stormed out of the shop.

The guy didn’t look like he was from a wealthy family. The Young Master, however, might be of noble origin.

This type of treatment wasn’t rare. It was the norm here, and also back home on Earth. Money, status, family, they all mattered.

Disciples of lower starting points far outnumbered the nobles. But most of the resources were likely concentrated at the top few percents.

While nobles could afford healing potions that topped up their Lifeforce in a day or two, others had to regenerate their reserves the old-fashioned way. This created a lag in hunting frequency. Nobles repeatedly delved into the Hidden Realm or took on Missions to clear out Monsters and Primals in other parts of the Sunken Mountains Peninsula. Money created more money. Non-nobles didn’t have that starting capital.

Most either folded, gave up, or relied on shoddier alternatives to potions gotten from legitimate sources. The rare few who found their own way, would become nobles themselves. Like the Liang Son-in-Law.

A carriage with a dark-skinned woman on the driver’s bench stopped near the tree. It was off the main road, and more carts, wagons, and carriages were parked in the area.

She got down. Her companion jumped off from the other side. He deftly put wedges under the wheels, while the woman tied the reins of the beast to the tree. She gave Yu Han a sharp glare.

He walked to another tree.

The woman then removed a step stool from under the driver’s bench and placed it by the carriage door. Three young ladies emerged.

They chittered like sparrows and entered the same vine-adorned store from before.

Around ten minutes later, they left, the male servant carrying three large boxes and placing them in the storage area behind the carriage.

They were all Outer Sect disciples. The three young ladies, the dark-skinned woman, and the male servant.

But the latter two worked for either all or one of the former.

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

That was another path forward for the bottom 99%. Serve. Fold. Submit. And the nobles would sprinkle leftovers down. Even that might be more than what they would earn working alone or only with other commoners.

Yu Han bought reams of paper sheets. It was one of the bags the Steward Liang had delivered the books in. Sustainability was the stuff after all.

After months of training, carrying such a load didn’t put much pressure on Yu Han. Although after the walk back, his knees might wobble a while.

He spied on the passers-by, eavesdropping on haggling and peeking at the spirit stones or gold that exchanged hands.

With each new data point, the vision for the Courtyard became clearer in his head. He had multiple visions, each with their own pros and cons.

A group of seven thugs rushed out of an alley on the opposite side of the road. They surrounded an old man.

“You’re selling on our turf,” one said.

“Now listen here, I don’t want no trouble—,” the old man pleaded. He was shoved by the first speaker. The old man was also a cultivator, and he grabbed the attacker’s arm and kneed the elbow.

There was a crack, and the young man fell down wailing.

Before the others could react, the old man threw a handful of red powder in the air. A scorching heat radiated out.

“What—”

“Cover your mouths, this is—”

“Fuck, it got into my eyes!”

The old man moved fine in the red fog, while the thugs soon writhed on the ground.

The old man proceeded to give the seven a beating of a lifetime, punching guts and kicking jaws in. He took their money and fled the scene. The thugs were left with scorch marks on their skin, foaming from the mouth.

Never underestimate pocket sand. Yu Han had used a similar strategy before. Though the red powder was probably far more potent than mundane chilli. Those burns looked nasty.

The seven were part of a local gang. Entrepreneurs that chose the wrong bet.

Even in the Outer Sect, there were undesirables like them. They left the rookies alone though.

It used to be different; the nobles had an iron grip on everything. Gangs had no opportunity to prosper, but still existed in other forms. Or at least that’s what Li Yao said.

They served one elder or another. Bullying rookies of non-noble origin was the norm, not the outlier. Most did so on behalf of other nobles. Like strongmen or a cadre of goons. Nowadays, they more resembled their mundane counterparts in mortal cities.

They’d bite noble and commoners alike for a pound of flesh. Funny how equality works.

These gangs didn’t dare act brazenly in broad daylight; the Law Enforcement Hall would come after them like interns seeking full time. After the new Sect Master came to power, the prestige and capability of the Law Enforcement Hall had fallen sharply among many. Apparently, they had sided with the wrong candidate. There was some reshuffling. Layoffs. Transfers. And deaths. Removal of corruption, as Tan Ruoxian said.

It ousted noble influence from the Law Enforcers which left them understaffed. They needed achievements.

Now, petty gangs of disgruntled commoners popped up like mushrooms after rain. Every time one crossed the line, the Law Enforcers would be upon them and they’d then parade their jobs well done.

Most of these gangs had the same mindset of eventually forming Courtyards. They were semi-Courtyards already, but without official recognition.

They couldn’t set up a stall in the Marketplace without paying exorbitant fees. Folks like the old man had probably been here for decades. They found their own ways to survive.

Yu Han had seen this old man before. He served food that had a minor effect on Qi regeneration. Mostly vegetarian, with fish or shrimps here and there. Said he grew his own magical herbs. He had probably given up on advancing to the Qi Gathering Realm. The Tribulation was not a light barrier.

But still, old ginger was spicier.

The thugs chose the wrong target. Oldtimers had lots of hidden connections. These young ones would not have an easy time going forward.

Regardless, everyone was an Outer Sect disciple. All vying for a limited number of scraps.

The Market here was terrible. The majority of consumers had shit purchasing power. Most were greedy, hoarding what little cash they had. If not, they’d merely use it to progress their own cultivation.

It would be easy to exploit them. There would of course be consequences. Superpowered mobs of angry customers were no joke. Like the old man, they wouldn’t take exploitation lying down. Not if it came from a Body Tempering whelp like Yu Han.

If he was stronger. If he was in the Inner Sect, or even the Core Sect, they would bow.

Did Yu Han want them to bow?

Yu Han put the bag down and hurriedly covered it with oil-paper. He walked between the canopies, the Marketplace now far behind. In front was the Nest of Storm-like Heroes. After a five-minute trek through the mountainside, he would descend. His and Huang Niuniu’s huts were in that area.

The rain came before that.

He liked the fresh touch of water on his face. But not enough that he’d tolerate soggy paper.

Am I Yu Han? Or am I Johan?

It was a question he’d barely figured the answer to. And he didn’t know if he was right.

He was both. His transmigration was an awakening of his past life’s memories. If not, he would cry.

Johan and Yu Han. Oil and Water. His two personas had trouble mixing. If not for an emulsifier, Yu Han would have long squeezed out Johan, or vice versa.

So what was the emulsifier?

Was it the constant struggle for survival the first few months he’d been here?

An outside force pressuring the two sets of memories, feelings, and moral values into one incomplete whole?

He didn’t know. After the Hidden Realm excursion, and Tan Ruoxian’s assurance that Sima Yan should leave him alone if he knew what was good for him, a huge weight seemed to lift from Yu Han’s shoulders.

Waking up to his family dead. The demonic dog. Bushy Beard and the city guards. The head chef and Sima Yan’s father. Qiao Jinhai. The long voyage. Wu Di. Gong Muhua. The Filth-Eating Ghoul Boss. The Hidden Realm excursion leading up to meeting Mistress Miao.

Yu Han didn’t have the leeway to think what he wanted. Who he was. What he was.

The last few weeks, with the absence of trouble on the horizon, he’d finally let his guard down.

He thought. Wrote. Drew. Without a threat to his life, his mind wandered to other existential territories.

He was an artist. He liked food, but not cooking. Though he was great at it. He was fat. He wanted a six-pack. For health? No. For vanity. He wanted to show off to Huang Niuniu. He liked teasing her. And spending time together. Did he like her? Yes. Did he want something more? No. Why not? Fear? Lust? Avoidance?

Li Yao and Fei Rui were nice dudes. Fang Zhao was a bit stuck-up. But strangely, Yu Han liked him too. Li Yao wanted a pack. Fang Zhao wanted an identity. Huang Niuniu wanted to be valued. Fei Rui wanted to be remembered. If Yu Han could do something nice for them, he would.

He liked them.

Would he feel sad to say goodbye to them?

A little.

But if need be, he would. He didn’t want to be tied down, despite the emotional speech he gave about creating a home for outcasts. He was an outcast to this very universe. He did not want to belong here.

He wanted to go back to Earth. To modern conveniences. To the internet. To dad.

But not before killing the hooded man. He wanted revenge on his family’s murderer. He wanted to make sure his elder sister was safe.

Yu Han was a mess. He had nothing of his own. He didn’t feel the want to create something.

But he did feel the necessity.

He realised that just thinking by himself would not reveal to him the answers to his plight. He would need to shout his words at the world and listen to what echoed back. That was dad’s advice. He needed mirrors. He needed to do stuff and look at how he felt.

Johan knew he was defective. Unworthy of love. Yu Han was loved all his life. Yu Han felt emotions Johan avoided. It was strange, it was foreign.

It was like the light of the sun shining on the dark side of a planet. It felt impossible. Too bright.

He didn’t know how to bask in it. He needed control. He had to decide where the light shone. Not all at once, but one ray at a time.

Take it slow. That’s what dad used to say.

But well, questions about philosophy could wait. If he wanted his Courtyard to be successful, he’d have to carve out a niche for it.

He would have to select a target audience.

After much deliberation, the poor , the neglected, and the needy were on the top of his list.

He wanted to do business properly this time. To make his dad proud. He wouldn’t exploit them too much, and in return, he’d give them their fair share of dough. Yu Han liked that. Then, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

There was a problem with his target choice of market, however.

They said that to make a business successful, one had to understand their customers.

Unfortunately, Yu Han didn’t know what poverty felt like.

So when he asked Li Yao how it felt like to be poor, he didn’t react fast enough to dodge Huang Niuniu’s uppercut.