Dao of Money

Zi Han shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers drumming nervously against his thigh. His excitement was barely contained as he stared at the stopped carriage just beyond the tree line. The low growl of Little Yuze—rumbled at his side, a sound that sent a chill through the group of ragged villagers gathered nearby.

Zi Han couldn’t help but glance down at the creature. Little Yuze was majestic, a wolf unlike any he’d ever seen—and he was certain, the wolf was unlike any that anyone had ever seen. No wolf can be tamed after all.

His pitch-black fur was shiny enough to make his fur appear as grey at times, but Zi Han knew the wolf was plain black except for the silver streak that ran boldly from his forehead to his tail. He had teal eyes. He’d never seen a wolf with such eyes, and his presence alone seemed to fill the group with confidence, even as hunger gnawed at their bellies.

It had been nearly a week since a carriage had passed through this desolate road, and the past days had been harsh. The village’s meager food stores were thinning fast, and aside from the few beasts Little Yuze had managed to bring down with the help of the village hunters, they hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Zi Han’s stomach twisted in both hunger and anticipation as he studied the carriage.

Fate, it seemed, had finally smiled upon them.

Zi Han turned to glance at the villagers, their gaunt faces and sunken eyes a grim reminder of their plight. They weren’t bandits, not in their hearts. They were farmers and laborers, forced into this life by the harsh will of the heavens. When Zi Wen, Zi Han’s elder brother, had stumbled upon Little Yuze as a pup—rescued him from a hunter’s cruel trap—it had felt like a blessing from the Agricultural God himself.

Now, Little Yuze was their greatest strength.

The past year had taught them well. Carriages like this one—sturdy, covered, and plain—were likely owned by small-time merchants traveling to or from the nearest market town. Zi Han knew the plan by heart: Little Yuze would scare the merchant and any guards into fleeing, while the villagers would step in to claim whatever food, coin, or supplies they could. There would be no bloodshed, no senseless killing. They weren’t murderers—just desperate souls trying to survive the harsh cards the heavens had dealt them.

“Zi Han,” came the quiet voice of his brother Zi Wen. The older man stepped forward, his beard with white streaks tied in a knot right below his chin. “Stay calm. If they run, we take what we need and leave. If they fight… we’ll handle it.”

Zi Han nodded, clenching his fists to steady himself. He glanced once more at Little Yuze, whose nose twitched as if sensing something. The wolf’s tail flicked, his teal eyes narrowing toward the carriage.Beside him, Zi Wen’s voice came in a whisper. “Someone’s coming out.”

Zi Han’s grip on his knife tightened instinctively. He held his breath, the tension crackling in the air. But when the figure stepped out of the carriage, the breath he was holding released in a soft sigh of relief.

The man didn’t look like much of a fighter. He wasn’t fat—his build was lean and his height imposing—but there was a softness about him that told Zi Han everything he needed to know. The man carried himself with the casual ease of someone who’d never had to struggle for survival. His clothes were clean and finely tailored, his expression one of quiet detachment. He looked like the pampered son of some merchant clan, a man accustomed to wealth and comfort, not hardship.

Zi Han’s eyes darted to the carriage, expecting a guard or two to emerge. Surely no merchant would travel alone, not on these roads. But no one came other than a cat. Even the girl who had been driving the carriage remained seated inside.

A bad feeling wormed its way into Zi Han’s gut, prickling at his nerves. Something felt wrong. But he forced himself to stay calm. It would be fine. It always was.

“I don’t think anyone else is coming out,” he muttered to his brother.

Zi Wen, the broad-shouldered man, frowned. His black hair, tied loosely at the nape of his neck, swayed as he shook his head. “What do we do then? The man doesn’t even look afraid.”

Zi Han glanced at the supposed merchant again. The man stood relaxed, his eyes lazily scanning the woods, as if he had all the time in the world. There wasn’t even a flicker of fear on his face.

“Then we give him a reason to get scared,” Zi Han said. He gestured toward the wolf. “Little Yuze can handle it. Scare him off, then we’ll loot the carriage like always.”

Zi Wen grunted in agreement and turned to pat the wolf’s sleek black fur. Little Yuze stretched lazily before rising to his feet, his teal pair locking onto the man standing before the carriage.

“Little Yuze, you know what to do,” Zi Wen murmured.

The wolf’s ears twitched, and for a moment, it almost looked like he nodded. Then, with a powerful leap, Little Yuze sprang into action, his dark form cutting through the air as he launched himself toward the man.

Zi Han watched with wide eyes, his heart pounding with excitement. Any moment now, the merchant would panic, stumble back in fear, and flee.

But instead, the man remained perfectly still, his expression unreadable.

As Little Yuze’s claws slashed dangerously close, the man sidestepped with a fluid grace, his movements almost too quick to follow.

“What—” Zi Han’s words caught in his throat.

Little Yuze snarled, spinning mid-air to strike again. His claws lashed out, but once more, the man evaded with a speed that defied reason.

Before Zi Han could process what was happening, a flicker of light erupted from the man’s palm—lightning, crackling and alive. The man charged forward, his movements as precise as they were deadly, and struck Little Yuze square in the chest with an open palm.

The impact sent the wolf sprawling to the ground with a pained yelp.

“No!” Zi Wen’s cry was muffled as Zi Han clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth, dragging him down behind the brush.

“Be quiet,” Zi Han hissed. Though his own mind went into a shock and his heart raced as he watched the man straighten, lightning still danced faintly around his fingertips.

“That’s a cultivator,” he said, the words trembling on his tongue. His face turned pale as he glanced at his brother. “Straight out of one of those sects. We—” He swallowed hard. “We just attacked a cultivator.”

Zi Wen’s eyes widened in horror.

“We’re dead,” Zi Han whispered, his voice barely audible. “We’re all dead.”

Zi Han’s heart pounded in his chest as despair tightened its grip around him. His mind raced with the countless stories he had heard of cultivators—beings who walked the path of immortality, wielding powers that could crush mortals like insects. Tales of their indifference and cruelty filled his thoughts. He recalled a traveling nomad recounting how a cultivator had crippled a man for the simple mistake of stumbling in his path. Now, they had attacked one.

They had attacked one.

“What are we going to do?” a trembling voice whispered behind him.

Zi Han turned, his face pale. “I... I don’t know.” He heard the crack of his voice.

Another villager pointed toward the injured wolf. “Little Yuze... he’ll kill the wolf.”

Zi Wen’s jaw tightened as his eyes fixated on his wolf, lying prone on the ground. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “No. I can’t let that happen. If someone has to die, it’ll be me.” He stood up from where he was and prepared to leave to face the wrath of the cultivator.

Zi Han grabbed his brother’s arm, his grip firm despite the tremor in his hands. “Don’t be an idiot! Your life is far more precious than mine or Little Yuze.” He glanced back toward the road, where the wolf was struggling to rise, its legs trembling. Little Yuze’s eyes burned with hatred as he glared at the cultivator, but his body betrayed him. Whatever that lightning technique was, it had left him shaken, his strength drained.

Zi Han swallowed hard. Even if he hated to admit it, he knew the wolf wouldn’t survive. But they had to. They had fought too hard for survival over the past year, enduring hunger, disease, and the slow decay of their village. None of it would matter if they all died because of this.

A grim thought struck him, sinking its claws into his heart. If they offended the cultivator further, their entire village could be wiped out. His parents—frail and weary—wouldn’t survive the news of their deaths. Worse, the cultivator might not stop with them. The village was remote, far from the eyes of law and governance. Even if justice existed, no one would come to check on a tragedy in a forgotten corner of the world. And by the time anyone did, the cultivator would be long gone.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Zi Han was about to order everyone to run when a cold, commanding voice shattered the silence.

“I know you’re there,” the cultivator said. “Come out, or I will kill the wolf. Then I’ll chase you. You know I can do that easily.”

Zi Han froze. His breath caught in his throat as he turned to the villagers, their faces stricken with terror. The older men and women looked at him with pleading eyes, while the younger ones clung to each other, trembling.

Only Zi Wen remained calm, his eyes free from fear. Concern etched deep into his features, but it wasn’t for himself or the others. He knew that it was for Little Yuze.

Zi Wen looked at him. “What should we do now?” He asked the same question that had been raking in his mind the entire time.

Zi Han felt his throat tighten. His brother had always been the stronger of the two, in both body and will. But now, that strength was no use. Not against someone with powers straight from the heavens.

“You all can run,” Zi Wen said suddenly. “I’ll go out. He knows there are people, but I don’t think he knows how many. If I go alone, maybe...”

Zi Han’s eyes widened in panic as he grabbed his brother’s arm. “No! I can’t leave you here!”

Zi Wen’s eyes softened as he glanced back at Little Yuze, the injured wolf lying in the dirt. “And I can’t leave him. If I run now, I’d be going against our bond. That’s not who I am. Just go, Zi Han. Save yourself. Stop being so stupid when the times want you to be brave. Do what you must, run!”

Zi Han’s grip tightened, his hands trembling with both fear and frustration. “I’m not leaving you! If anyone should go, it’s the others.” He turned toward the small group of villagers hiding behind the trees. “You all go! Get back to the village!”

But the villagers hesitated, their faces pale as they exchanged nervous glances. No one moved.

“We’re not leaving you two behind,” one of the older men said, his voice trembling but resolute.

Zi Han’s heart twisted in frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They needed to escape, to survive. But as he opened his mouth to argue, a ripple of unease washed over him. The faint sound of movement caught his ear—too fast, too quiet to belong to any of the villagers.

He turned his head sharply, and his breath caught in his throat.

The cultivator was standing right in front of him.

Zi Han’s legs gave out beneath him, and he dropped to his knees, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the man. The air around him pressed down, as if it were charged with invisible energy, and his calm, calculating gaze bore into them all like a hawk surveying its prey.

“You all were taking too much time,” the cultivator said. “So I decided to come find you myself.”

Zi Han’s mouth went dry as the man’s eyes swept over them. His casual stance didn’t hide the sharpness of his presence, like a blade hidden in plain sight.

The cultivator’s gaze fell on Little Yuze, then shifted back to the group. He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on here? And when did bandits start taming wolves?”

***

Chen Ren stood in the middle of the road, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight before him. The group of ragged men knelt in front of him, heads bowed low. Even the wolf—an impressive beast with matted fur and a low growl—had lowered itself to the ground, its sharp eyes cautiously trained on him. It no longer glared with the anger he had seen before, but Chen Ren could tell it was still on edge, especially with his attack.

Behind him, Xiulan and the others stood in tense silence, watching the strange scene unfold. And for a few seconds, nothing happened. They all patiently waited.

It was Tang Xiulan who finally broke the stillness.

“What are we going to do with them?” she asked, her voice uncertain but curious.

Chen Ren glanced back at her, then turned his attention to the group. “Well, that depends,” he said evenly, his voice carrying enough authority to make the kneeling men flinch. “As you can see, they’re not the usual kind of bandits. At least, I haven’t heard of bandits taming wolves before. Or is that something common around here?” He directed his question at the group.

One of the men—a wiry figure with dirt-streaked clothes and desperation etched across his face—raised his head slightly. “No, Lord Cultivator,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “Little Yuze was tamed by my brother when he was just a pup. It listens to him because of their bond.”

Chen Ren’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting to the wolf, then back to the man. “And you’re using it to loot and kill merchants and travelers?”

The man shook his head vehemently. “No, Lord Cultivator! We haven’t killed anyone! We just… we just use Little Yuze to scare people off so we can take their belongings. We swear, we’ve never taken a life, nor do we intend to.”

Chen Ren let out a low hum. “So you’re thieves, not murderers,” he said. “That at least makes things easier.”

The man’s face paled, and he stammered, “Lord Cultivator, please! Don’t kill us! If someone must pay for this, let it be me. This was my idea!”

Chen Ren’s lips twitched upward in a faint, humorless smile. “You can call me Young Master. I have a name and it’s Chen Ren, and I’m not going to kill anyone. But I will hand you over to the village guards. I’m sure they’ll have plenty to say about this. What village are you from?”

The men exchanged uneasy glances before the leader mumbled, “We’re from Meadow Village, Young Master.”

Chen Ren’s brow lifted slightly. “Meadow? Well, that makes things convenient. I’m headed there myself. I’ll turn you over to the guards and let them deal with you. That should serve as an appropriate punishment.”

The men tensed. The one who spoke had his eyes widened at what Chen Ren said but he replied with nothing. He looked down on the ground as if contemplating something before finally opening his eyes.

“Young Master, that won’t work.”

Tang Xiulan, who’d already walked and stood behind Chen Ren, frowned. “Why not?”

The man looked at her, shame flickering in his eyes. “Because, Young Miss… I’m the one who leads the village guards.”

Chen Ren blinked, surprised, as Xiulan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re the guard captain?” she asked incredulously.

The man nodded, his face flushed with humiliation.

Chen Ren folded his arms, his expression turning cold. “If you’re the guard captain, why are you resorting to banditry? Explain yourself.”

“It’s a long story, Young Master,” the man said, lowering his gaze. “None of us here are actual bandits. I’m the captain of the guard, my brother is a hunter, and the others are just farmers. But after our crops were destroyed last year, we had no choice but to turn to this… this disgraceful path. It’s been like this for a year now. All our stored rations ran out long ago.”

Chen Ren’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t lie. The harvest this year wasn’t bad. I heard it myself from traders in the city.”

The man’s shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. “It wasn’t the weather or anything like that, Young Master,” he said quietly. “It was… the locust swarm. They came last season, and they didn’t leave us a single stalk standing.”

Chen Ren frowned, his expression darkening. A locust swarm, so close to a village on the edge of civilization? He glanced back at Xiulan, whose face was set in a mixture of shock, confusion and pity.

“Well,” he said slowly, turning his gaze back to the kneeling men. “That does complicate things. But, locusts?” he asked. “Can’t you kill them?”

The man wiped a hand over his face, his expression a mix of frustration and despair. “We tried, Young Master,” he said, shaking his head. “But our usual methods don’t work against them. They aren’t normal locusts—they’re magical, like wild beasts. They’re too many, and they’re too strong. They tear through everything. Everyone abandoned the farms because of them.”

“And you sent word to the nearby lords?”

“We did,” the man said bitterly. “But no one came. They told us they’d send a cultivator from a sect to handle it, but… no one ever showed. It’s been months.” His voice broke, and tears spilled down his cheeks. “We didn’t know what else to do. We couldn’t let everyone starve.”

Chen Ren fell silent, his thoughts swirling. If what the man said was true, it wasn’t hard to guess what might have happened. A city lord could have intercepted the request, redirecting it to a sect as protocol dictated. But a mission to handle magical locusts? It wasn’t the kind of task that would appeal to a sect disciple. No glory, no treasures—just hard labor and frustration.

As he mulled over the situation, a familiar voice echoed in his mind.

“Don’t kill them,” Yalan said. “At least not the one with the wolf. He’s… interesting.”

Chen Ren clicked his tongue. “I’m not killing anyone,” he then addressed the group. “Lead us to your village. Especially your farms. I want to see these locusts for myself.”

***

The journey to the village was tense, the air heavy with unspoken fears. Chen Ren walked in silence, choosing to keep his thoughts to himself. He didn’t press the men for more answers, knowing that words wouldn’t matter until he saw the situation with his own eyes. Beside him, the group trudged along, their heads bowed like condemned prisoners on their way to the gallows.

Chen Ren’s gaze drifted to the wolf padding beside its master.

Despite its imposing size and wild appearance, the creature behaved like a trained hound. It stayed close to the hunter named Zi Wen, moving in sync with him. Not once did it growl or bare its teeth at the strangers surrounding it. Instead, it followed its master with a quiet loyalty, its sharp eyes constantly scanning its surroundings.

The sight was strange yet fascinating.

When the group finally reached the village, the heavy silence shattered. People began to gather, their voices rising with concern and anger. Villagers spilled into the narrow streets, their faces etched with worry as they called out to the men.

“Where have you been?”

“What’s going on?”

“Did you bring food?”

The questions came in a flurry, overlapping in a chaotic chorus. Chen Ren stepped forward, raising a hand to calm the crowd. His voice was loud and he demanded attention. “There will be time for explanations later,” he said. “Right now, I need to see your farms.”

The villagers hesitated, their questions hanging in the air, but they eventually stepped aside to let him pass.

No one dared to ask questions considering that it was a new face, and their familiar faces showed defeat.

Chen Ren led the way, while scanning his surroundings. The village was small and worn, its buildings leaning with age. Everywhere he looked, he saw signs of struggle. The people were thin, their faces pale and gaunt. Children clung to their mothers, their wide eyes filled with fear and hunger. The hollow cheeks, darkened eyes, dry lips, shaky hands—they were all common in everyone around.

As he walked through the village, Chen Ren’s thoughts churned. Whatever these men might have done, it was clear they were part of this place. The way the villagers reacted to them—with familiarity and desperate hope—proved that much. They weren’t lying.

After a short walk, they reached the edge of the farmlands. Chen Ren came to an abrupt halt, his breath catching as his eyes widened.

What lay before him was devastation.

The fields, which should have been full of life, were barren and lifeless. The ground was stripped bare, as though something had scoured it clean. The few plants that remained were skeletal, their leaves riddled with holes and their stems broken. And in the middle of it all, hundreds of locusts hovered.

***

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