Dao of Money

Blood Snakes took the marketplace by shock.

Whispers slithered through the crowd, all the eyes darting nervously to the end where they moved with purpose.

There were ten of them, wearing black shirts with the emblem of a blood-red snake stitched across their chest. Their grins spoke of the power they possessed as they thrust their chests out with each step they took. A tall, bald man walked in the front, acting like the leader as he waved to a few stall owners.

Chen Ren felt their arrogance reeking out of every side look they gave. Ruffians, that’s what these assholes look like.

Behind him, customers who had been chattering only moments ago fell silent. He looked back and saw how they were stiff with fear. Their eyes widened and some even visibly shivered.

Even stall owners, who normally barked and bantered with customers, were quiet almost as if some force had muted them. Old Man Tian, whose wrinkled hands were usually busy arranging his wares, stood frozen. His eyes kept daring around as though he was trying to find a way out of the street.

Amidst noticing all the reactions towards the Blood Snakes, Chen Ren stood motionless. He looked through his memory, remembering if he knew of them until a memory struck— A conversation the old him had with one of his friends about gangs controlling the underground market of the city.

Blood Snakes was one of them.

His gaze shifted to Tang Xiulan beside him, her usually composed expression now tight with unease. “Are they the gang that controls this side of the city?” he murmured, keeping his voice low as he watched their predatory movements.

She nodded, a shadow passing over her face. “Yes, they’re called the Blood Snakes— one of the three major factions that run the city’s underbelly. They have a strong grip on the underground potion market and are known for being ruthless. Crossing them is asking for trouble.” Her eyes narrowed, scanning the scene as the gang members paused at various stalls, sending the merchants into a flurry of fearful compliance. “But I can’t figure out why they’re here today.”Chen Ren’s brows knitted together, his eyes following the tense glances exchanged between the stall owners and the gang.

It almost felt as if they happened in slow motion— the passerby quickening their steps or diverting their routes to avoid coming too close, one elderly vendor trembling as he handed over a pouch of coins. It was probably his entire stash of profits for the day— week or even month, who knew?

The gang members sneered, pocketing the money before moving on, leaving the vendor visibly shaken.

“It doesn’t seem like this is the first time they’ve done this,” Chen Ren muttered, eyes hardening as he took in the scene.

The Blood Snakes didn’t come just for show; they came to collect, intimidate, and remind everyone of their power. Their actions sent a pulse of anger through him. Whatever their purpose today, it wasn’t for good. If anything, Chen Ren wanted to know why they had shown themselves suddenly when he hadn’t seen any of them in the past month.

As the first of the gang members reached their vicinity, the smile on his face widened, revealing teeth that gleamed unnaturally white. The man’s eyes glistened with a predatory look as he surveyed the scene, taking in the array of stalls and the frozen stares that greeted him.

Power, palpable and oppressive, settled over the marketplace like an unseen hand. And in that suffocating silence, Chen Ren stood unmoving.

The ruffians strolled from stall to stall, their heavy boots hitting the cobblestones with a rhythmic thud that seemed to echo through the street. They paused at each, their voices low but edged with menace.

A murmur of protest would rise out of the merchants, but it was always swallowed quickly by the sound of coin purses being emptied.

The day’s earnings slipped from trembling hands into greedy palms, and the laughter that followed was cold and victorious, as though they’d won something far greater than just coins.

He glanced at Old Man Tian’s skewer stall as the thugs walked towards it. Chen Ren’s muscles tensed.

The old vendor, whose greying hair and stooped shoulders betrayed a life lived under the weight of years, was holding himself together with what little dignity remained. His fingers quivered, brushing against the skewers as if he could somehow make them sizzle louder to drown out the scene unfolding in front of him.

The ruffians were coming closer now. They moved with a purpose, like wolves circling their prey.

The bald thug leading them was a mountain of muscle. His tattooed arm flexed as he reached for the collar of Old Man Tian’s threadbare tunic, lifting him effortlessly from the ground.

The old man gasped, a small, pitiful sound echoing out, his feet dangling inches above the dirt. The others flanked him, laughing at the scene.

Chen Ren’s gaze narrowed, his heart thudding in his chest. He could see it— the struggle in the old man’s eyes, the unwillingness to look up, to face the inevitable.

Fear was settling in his bones like a cold fog.

The bald thug’s voice was dripping with mock familiarity as he spoke. “Old man, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” His grin spread, and his eyes gleamed with a dangerous hunger. His hand travelled from the vendor’s collar to the round belly that had grown soft with age, fingers pinching as he laughed. “Judging by that round belly of yours, I’d say you’ve been eating just fine.”

Old Man Tian’s lips quivered as he forced the words out. “Just doing decently, my lord. My old bones... they don’t move as they used to.”

The bald man’s eyes flicked to the sizzling skewers, their savoury scent thick in the air. His sneer softened for a brief moment as he took in the smell.

He reached down and snatched one of the skewers from the grill, ignoring the heat, and bit into it with a grunt of approval.

The moment of softness vanished, replaced by something far more venomous. “Your food might be old like you, but it’s still good,” he said between chews, his mouth half-full, a greasy grin tugging at his lips. “Must be raking in a tidy sum, eh? Why don’t you share some of that with me? My pockets are feeling rather light these days.”

Old Man Tian’s hands shook so violently that the pouch of coins he held almost slipped from his grip. He fumbled as he tried to offer a few scattered pieces of copper.

His fingers trembled, betraying him in front of the thug, who only sneered at the small, pathetic offering. Before the old man could register what was happening, the thug’s hand was already around the pouch, snatching it with a swift, greedy swipe.

He held it up, eyes twinkling with malicious delight as he gave it a shake. The coins inside clinked together, a sound that seemed to mock Old Man Tian’s helplessness.

The bald thug’s grin twisted, and his voice lowered, dripping with cruelty. “Be thankful I’m sparing your miserable life, old man,” he spat, his breath hot and rank. “Don’t cling to that money like your life depends on it— you won’t need it in the afterlife, and you’re already halfway there.”

The words hung in the air, bitter and unrelenting. Old Man Tian’s shoulders sagged even lower, and Chen Ren could see the moment the last shred of defiance left his body.

He watched the ruffian, still grinning as he pocketed the coins, and a fire stirred in his chest— a flame sparked by the injustice of it all.

Chen Ren watched the scene with a frown, his brow furrowed as his senses sharpened. Where did these people come from? Where are the guards? Have they been paid off? His instincts told him that something deeper was at play here.

He shifted slightly, searching for Yalan. The cat wasn’t on her normal spot on top of the stall, so he looked around for a few seconds before he felt her sitting right behind him.

Her amber eyes gleamed with an otherworldly calm. She looked unbothered by the surrounding tension, her tail flicking lazily as she studied the scene with the kind of detached amusement only a spirit beast like her could possess.

Before he could say anything, her voice cut through the stillness, her words laced with quiet command. “Don’t you dare give away your money like a coward.” The soft sound of her voice held the weight of a warning, the sharpness of it jarring against the otherwise heavy atmosphere.

Chen Ren’s lips twitched upward, but only slightly, as he spoke in the silence of his mind. “I never said I would.” His gaze never left the thugs moving through the crowd. “It’s just strange. These people… they appear out of nowhere. I’ve been here long enough to know the ebb and flow of things, and I’ve never seen anything like this. What do you think?”

Yalan’s tail flicked again as she narrowed her eyes, her attention flicking from one thug to another. “A lot of them are just mortals. Drunk on power, thinking they can run the place with their numbers. But the bald one—the one leading them—he’s at the fifth star of the body forging Realm.” Her voice dropped, dripping with disdain. “There are three more cultivators, each at the third star of the body forging realm. Cultivators with spirit roots, but they’ve chosen to become nothing more than thugs, extorting the weak. A disgrace. No better than demonic cultivators.”

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Chen Ren’s gaze hardened as he took in the information. He could see the power radiating off the bald thug, and the others— no less dangerous, even if they lacked the same star rank. His mind began to work, considering the implications. “It’ll be a tough fight, then,” he murmured under his breath, already calculating the risks.

Yalan’s gaze softened, as though she could read his thoughts with ease. “You should be able to defeat them if you keep your eyes and ears open,” she said, her voice steady with quiet confidence. “Your techniques are more refined than theirs. They’ll be no match for you if you don’t underestimate them. And if things get out of hand, I’ll step in.”

He knew she was right. Chen Clan’s techniques were not weak and although a sect like Soaring Sword Sect might have better techniques, he wouldn’t expect that from street thugs, even if they were cultivators.

“Okay,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the market. “But I need to know if there’s anything more to their extortion racket. If there’s a deeper conspiracy, it could change everything.”

Yalan’s ears twitched, her tail flicking once more as she stared at the group with an eerie calm. “There always is. People like them don’t just appear for nothing.” Her voice was laced with a knowing edge. “But don’t be too hasty. We can get everything out of them once we beat them up. Just stay alert. If you can handle beasts, you can handle thugs.”

Chen Ren’s eyes sharpened, his resolve settling into something unshakable. “I’ll take care of it. I always do.”

As he finished the conversation with Yalan, the thugs finished with the other stalls and moved towards him. His customers parted ways for them as two men flanked his stall as if standing there to make sure he couldn’t run away.

Around Chen Ren, the children who had been eagerly helping a few minutes before stilled, their wide eyes darting between the approaching gang and him. Tang Xiulan’s posture stiffened, her fingers curling into tight fists.

“Well, well,” the bald man drawled as he came to a stop in front of Chen Ren’s modest stall. His eyes, sharp as knives, took in every detail. “If it isn’t the delicacy I’ve been hearing so much about. You invented it, right? I heard you are a small-time cultivator who already gave up on reaching the heavens and is now making perfumes. But hey, at least they are earning you good money.”

The two men behind him snickered, one elbowing the other.

“A cultivator peddling perfumes! What a joke,” one of them jeered, his laughter loud and mocking.

Chen Ren’s chest tightened, a cold realisation seeping into his veins. If he was just suspicious before, the words confirmed the fact that there was something else going on. He wasn’t just paranoid. These men knew more than they should.

His heart thudded in a steady, ominous beat as he gave a glance at Tang Xiulan. She met his gaze head-on, eyes fierce, smouldering with defiance despite the danger coiled around them.

The bald man, a mountain of muscle and menace, raised a hand and snapped his fingers. The sound cut through the market like a blade, silencing his comrades instantly. “Let’s not make fun of this young man over here. Money is money and everyone wants it, even us cultivators,” he said, his voice rough and tainted with malice.

He walked around showing off his arrogance and slapped his palm against Old Man Tian’s wooden stall, which was right next to Chen Ren’s, making the fragile structure shudder under the force. The skewers rattled, one clattering to the ground and rolling to a stop near Chen Ren’s feet.

“But let’s not waste time, eh?” The bald man’s eyes gleamed with an ugly, feral light as they settled on Xiulan. “Hand over every coin you’ve got here,” he continued, the edge of a smirk creeping up his scarred face. “And the girl comes with me. My bed’s been too cold these days.” His finger jabbed toward Xiulan, punctuating his words with a twisted promise. The marketplace seemed to collectively inhale, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Tang Xiulan’s jaw tightened, and she met his leering gaze with eyes that could slice through iron. The tension between them crackled like a drawn blade.

Chen Ren’s vision narrowed, the world around him fading as a deep, seething fury took root. His voice, when he spoke, was low and controlled, emphasising every syllable. He literally spat his words. “Try that, and I promise you won’t be able to touch any women going forward.”

The bald man’s eyes widened briefly before his smirk returned, broader and uglier than before. He threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter that bounced off the nearby stalls and echoed into the watching crowd. His lackeys joined in, their laughter a grating chorus that sank claws into Chen Ren’s composure.

“Oh, is that so?” the thug taunted, spreading his arms wide as he turned to address the cluster of bystanders who stood frozen at the edges of the market, their faces pale and drawn. “Listen up, everyone! This young master here seems quite enamoured with his little maid. But look at her!” He gestured toward Xiulan. “She’s not even that pretty!”

More laughter followed, harsh and mocking, drilling into Chen Ren’s ears. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms.

But the laughter faded as the bald man’s smile disappeared, replaced by a look of cold calculation.

He leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper. “How about this? I won’t take the girl. Instead, give me your perfume formula. My boss is interested in it, you see. He’s quite fond of perfumes.”

Chen Ren’s eyes hardened. “He can come to my shop and try the perfumes. As for the formula, I don’t think he can afford it.”

The bald man’s jaw twitched, his smile souring. “My boss doesn’t buy what he can take. He prefers... acquisitions.”

Chen Ren didn’t flinch, his voice steady as a blade. “Then I have two words for him: fuck. off.”

The moment Chen Ren’s defiant words left his lips, the bald man’s face darkened.

His eyes, now smouldering with rage, narrowed to slits as he drew his fist back, ready to strike.

But before the blow could connect, Chen Ren’s instincts surged, and with a flicker of his feet, he propelled himself forward, [Lightning Step] sparking beneath him. The sudden movement sent a ripple through the onlookers, gasps escaping the mouths of those who dared to watch.

The bald man’s punch met space, his momentum carrying him forward as he stumbled and spun around, eyes flaring with fury. “You’ve picked the wrong fight!” he roared, veins bulging on his neck.

He lowered himself like a charging beast, muscles coiling as he unleashed a battle cry. “[Raging Bull Rush!]” With a force that cracked the stones beneath his feet, he charged, each step shaking the ground.

Chen Ren dodged to the side, barely escaping the head-on rush. The wind from the bald man’s charge ruffled his robes, and sweat trickled down his brow. He clenched his jaw— this man was faster and stronger, a formidable opponent. But defeat wasn’t an option.

Before Chen Ren could catch his breath, two mortal lackeys rushed at him, fists swinging. He caught one by the wrist, his fingers tightening like iron. The man’s eyes widened in shock as a flash of electric-blue light crackled from Chen Ren’s palm. “[Thundering Fists!]” The jolt sent the lackey stumbling back, yelping in pain.

The second thug flinched, but before he could retreat, Chen Ren repeated the strike, sending him sprawling.

The brief victory was cut short by a bellow from the bald man, who had already whirled around and resumed his charge.

“I’ll crush you!” The gap between them disappeared in a heartbeat, and Chen Ren’s mind raced. He darted into the open space of the market, weaving between overturned carts and dodging terrified bystanders.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” Chen Ren taunted, trying to buy himself precious seconds while striking at the gang members scattered around. The bald man’s eyes burned with rage as he ploughed through obstacles like a bull gone mad, his singular focus on Chen Ren unwavering.

Suddenly, Chen Ren’s luck ran out. The bald man pivoted with unexpected speed and struck him with a head-first blow. “[Bull Smack!]”

The impact sent Chen Ren hurtling backward, his body crashing into a wooden stall that splintered under the force.

Pain flared across his back as he gasped, pushing himself up on shaking arms.

Before he could fully regain his stance, another shout cut through the chaos, sharp and hissing like the creature it invoked. “[Cobra Fang!]” The voice belonged to a wiry man who leaped into the fray, his movements fluid and sinuous, as if his joints were made of water. His eyes gleamed with a predator’s focus.

Chen Ren’s chest tightened— this man was one of the three-star body forging realm cultivators.

The air crackled with sudden tension as the man’s fist lashed out, a strike as quick and venomous as a serpent’s bite.

Chen Ren’s instincts screamed, and he pushed his body into motion, twisting just enough to avoid the blow. The wind of the missed strike brushed his cheek like a cold whisper, and the ground seemed to lurch beneath him as he spun back, breath ragged.

He didn’t pause. Chen Ren channelled his qi, feeling it spark like wildfire through his veins.

With a surge of determination, he unleashed “[Lightning Frenzy!]”

His fists blurred, trailing sparks as they met the cultivator’s torso. The man’s eyes widened in shock as the force crashed into him, sending him sprawling backward into a nearby cart, which exploded into splinters and sent up a plume of dust and shattered wood.

A fleeting wave of triumph rippled through Chen Ren’s chest, but it was crushed a heartbeat later. Iron bands locked around him from behind— a crushing, unrelenting grip that threatened to crack his ribs on contact.

The bald thug’s brute strength was immense. He gritted his teeth as pain seared through his back, muscles screaming as he struggled to breathe, let alone move.

“Hold still,” the bald man growled, his breath hot and rancid against Chen Ren’s ear. “Zhi, break his ribs.”

Another man, scarred and grinning with feral delight, stepped into view. The marketplace seemed to shrink, the noise of the crowd fading to a dull roar as the new threat moved closer.

“[Multiple Snake Bites!]” he intoned, the technique name slicing through the air.

Chen Ren’s world exploded into a white-hot agony as the blows rained down, reverberating through his bones and forcing the breath from his lungs.

His vision darkened at the edges, a dance of shadows and pain as he lashed out blindly with a desperate kick. The strike connected with a satisfying thud, sending Feng stumbling back a few steps, a curse on his lips.

But the reprieve was momentary. The vice-like hold on him tightened, the pressure biting deeper until it felt as if his ribs might shatter under the strain.

Blood thundered in his ears, drowning out everything but the raw, animalistic drive to survive. His vision wavered, the world around him threatening to blur into nothingness.

Should I call out for Yalan? The thought, sharp and urgent, clawed at his mind. Pride, though, rose like a stubborn flame. Yalan had faith that he could handle this. And so did he. With a gasp, he steeled himself, even as a fresh wave of pain lanced through him.

Just then, a glint of metal caught his eye— a knife, its edge slicing through the air toward him with deadly intent.

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A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon.