Dao of Money

Chen Ren looked at the duo of siblings. Zi Han and Zi Wen sat there—the latter was stiff, arms crossed, had his emotions masked with a stubborn face.

Chen Ren leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee, and broke the silence with a calm but pointed question. “So, do you want to talk about why you left your sect?”

Zi Wen’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. The question seemed to hit a nerve. His gaze dropped to the ground, unfocused, as if sifting through distant memories.

“Do you really want to know?”

“If you and your brother are here, it means you at least have some hope of joining my sect. So yes, I’d like to know your background.”

Zi Wen snorted softly, his lips curling into a wry smile. “I was just dragged here.”

Chen Ren raised one eyebrow, exhaling through his nose. “You wouldn’t have been dragged here if you didn’t want to come. I like to talk straight, so why don’t you?”

Zi Han, who had been quietly drawing, paused. He looked up. “He’s right, Brother.”

Zi Wen sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He stared at the ground for a long moment, then shook his head. “Fine. It’s not like I have anything to hide.”

Chen Ren didn’t press him, merely waiting in calm silence. The quietness that stretched seemed to urge Zi Wen to continue. He glanced at Chen Ren, then back to the ground, his voice quieter now.“It was a long time ago,” Zi Wen began, his eyes filled with nostalgia but the scrunch of his nose showed that the man was bitter for whatever had happened. “My parents took me to Lotus City. There was a sect there—Heavenly Lotus Sect—conducting aptitude tests. I was just a kid then, and I was... fascinated by cultivators. The stories about them, their feats, how they could fight armies single-handedly, how they were practically gods walking among mortals. I begged my parents to let me take the test.”

Zi Han seemed to hold his breath while Zi Wen continued. Chen Ren guessed that even his brother hadn’t heard the story in detail and knew only bits of it.

“My parents had no reason to say no, but I’m sure they expected me to fail. No one in my family had ever cultivated. Not even a trace of talent.” He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “But when fate plays its hand, even the impossible becomes possible.”

Chen Ren remained silent, his calm gaze unrelenting. Zi Wen met it for a moment before looking away again.

“They found I had spirit roots. Just a meager amount, but it was enough. They took me in. The Heavenly Lotus Sect was an Established sect. They didn’t take in just anyone, but they made an exception for me since they needed a specific number of disciples from the city.”

Zi Wen paused. “At the time, I thought I was the luckiest person alive. My parents were happy for me when I was taken in. I was excited too. I thought, despite my meager talent, I’d defy the heavens and reach the top. The kind of foolish confidence only a child could have.”

Zi Han watched his brother with wide, unblinking eyes.

“But that confidence didn’t last,” Zi Wen continued, his voice heavy with old wounds. “A month in the sect, I learned just how far from the top I really was. I was at the bottom of the bottom. A servant.”

Chen Ren’s brows furrowed slightly, though he didn’t interrupt.

“They gave me tasks—sweeping the training grounds, scrubbing the hallways, fetching water. The kind of jobs that reminded you every day just how worthless you were. And even when I had time to cultivate, I barely made any progress. My talent… it was like trying to fill a broken jar with water.” Zi Wen clenched his fists. “Every day, my confidence cracked a little more. And then he found me.”

“Who?” Chen Ren asked.

Zi Wen exhaled sharply, his hands relaxing. “The son of one of the elders. He’d lost a fight to someone before and must’ve been looking to vent. I was weak enough, and I guess I looked pathetic enough to make a perfect target.” His voice turned hard. “We sparred. I lost—badly. And he laughed at me. After that, he decided I’d make a good punching bag. And that’s what I became.”

Zi Han’s mouth to interrupt. “Brother, you weren’t just a punching—”

“I was one! Just one that didn’t give up!” Zi Wen cut in sharply, his voice rising for the first time. He paused, his hands trembling, before continuing, softer now. “I kept trying. I learned every technique I could, cultivated every spare moment. But no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried... I kept losing. Over and over. Until... I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“I ran,” Zi Wen said quietly. “I left the sect and ran back to Meadow Village—home. My family was just happy to have me back. I told them I didn’t want to be a cultivator, and they didn’t care about my failure. They just wanted their son back.” He forced a small smile. “I helped on the farms, became a hunter, and tried to live peacefully. Especially after I found Yuze.”

“The wolf.” Chen Ren said.

Zi Wen nodded, his face now lit with a soft smile. “Little Yuze. A stray beast wolf. Barely alive when I found him in a trap. I raised him, and he’s been my companion ever since.”

Zi Wen’s gaze returned to Chen Ren, his shoulders sinking. “That’s my story. Pathetic, I know. I actually came here because... I was curious about you. But now I know even someone like you wouldn’t want a cultivator like me—someone with no prospects, who ran away from the first real challenge they faced.”

Silence fell, heavy and unyielding. Zi Wen’s words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Chen Ren studied him, his expression unreadable, but behind his calm exterior, his thoughts churned.

He thought of all the cultivators like Zi Wen—those who were cast aside, mocked, and crushed under the weight of expectations. How many had given up? How many were bullied into believing they were worthless by others who thought themselves superior?

Zi Han shifted closer to his brother, resting a hand on Zi Wen’s shoulder. “You know that’s not true, Brother.”

Zi Wen let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t lie. That is what happened. I gave up. I went back on everything that makes a cultivator—resilience, growth, strength. I abandoned all of it.”

Zi Han’s grip tightened. “No, you didn’t. You tried—”

“I failed,” Zi Wen snapped, cutting him off. “That’s what matters. I couldn’t overcome it. I ran. Doesn’t that prove I wasn’t cut out for it?” His voice cracked slightly, but he steadied it with a deep breath.

Before Zi Han could respond, Chen Ren spoke. “I don’t think you went back on what a cultivator should be.”

Both brothers turned to him, surprised. Zi Wen frowned, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t think you’re weak, and I don’t think you failed in the way you think you did. From what you’ve told me, you didn’t just roll over. You stood up every day and tried to beat that so-called young master. You kept going, even when the odds were stacked against you. That shows resilience.”

Zi Wen let out a hollow laugh. “Resilience doesn’t matter if you lose in the end.”

Chen Ren shook his head. “You only lost because the martial dao isn’t your path.”

“What?”

“You were walking a dao that rejects you—and you reject it—even if you don’t realize it yet,” Chen Ren explained.

“I don’t understand,” Zi Wen admitted, frustration creeping into his tone.

Chen Ren didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze drifted to the door, where a wolf-shaped shadow lingered just outside. A smirk played on his lips as he turned back to the brothers. “I’ll explain it to you. But right now, I don’t think we have the time. Because there’s a long line of candidates waiting out there. So, for now, I’ll just say this—I don’t care about your past. What I care about is whether you’re ready to move forward. If you are, I’d be more than happy to have you and your brother in my sect.”

Zi Wen’s eyes widened slightly. “You… You would?”

“Of course,” Chen Ren said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “But let’s be clear—I’d still need to conduct an interview first. No free passes, even for interesting candidates like you. If you pass, I’ll welcome you both into the Divine Coin Sect.”

Zi Wen hesitated, his mouth opening to say something, but Chen Ren held up a hand to stop him.

“And I know you’ve had bad experiences in your previous sect,” Chen Ren continued. “But let me make one thing clear—no one in the Divine Coin Sect will treat you like that. We’ll have strict regulations to ensure that stronger members don’t bully weaker ones. Sparring is for growth, not for venting frustrations or showing off.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “So, what do you say?”

Zi Wen froze. He looked at his younger brother, who was already smiling.

Zi Han spoke up before his brother could. “We’re in.”

Chen Ren gave a small nod, then glanced at Yalan, who sat, appearing for all the world like an ordinary cat. With that, Chen Ren turned back to the brothers.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s start the interview.”

Like with the candidates before them, Chen Ren’s questions ranged across various topics—goals, integrity, mathematics, and more. He wanted to see not only their capabilities but also their character.

Zi Wen was composed but cautious in his answers. His desire to rekindle his ambition as a cultivator shone through, though there was a lingering hesitation in his voice. His brother, Zi Han, on the other hand, surprised Chen Ren. Despite lacking spirit roots, Zi Han excelled in mathematical questions, answering them faster and more accurately than Zi Wen. His sharp mind compensated for what he lacked in cultivation potential.

Both brothers could read and write, which was another point in their favor. Their reasons for joining the Divine Coin Sect were honest and grounded: Zi Wen sought redemption and growth, while Zi Han, tired of his past as a guard and occasional bandit, yearned for purpose and belonging.

Chen Ren found himself nodding as their answers aligned with what he had in mind. The two might not be extraordinary by conventional standards, but they had qualities that could help build the Divine Coin Sect into something greater.

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Finally, he inhaled and asked the final question. “This will be a hypothetical scenario.”

The brothers exchanged a glance, then focused on Chen Ren as he outlined the scenario—the same question about profiting during a war. As Zi Wen opened his mouth to answer, Chen Ren held up a hand, stopping him. “I’ll give you a different question,” he said, turning his attention to Zi Han.

Zi Han furrowed his brow, thinking deeply before responding. “I’ve never been in a war,” he admitted, “but if something like this is happening, there’s no point in siding with anyone. Instead, it’s better to stay in the shadows.”

Chen Ren’s eyebrows raised slightly in interest. “Why is that?”

“Because,” Zi Han said after a brief pause, “until the end, you don’t know who might win. You can make a bet on someone, but that’s always a risk. There’s no reason to take it when better options exist for making a profit.”

“What are these better options you mentioned?”

Zi Han straightened. “In war, the essentials are rations, weapons, manpower, and countless other supplies. Controlling those industries is the way to profit. You can sell to both sides using proxies, staying neutral and earning a fortune while others exhaust themselves fighting.”

Chen Ren’s smile deepened, a spark of approval lighting his expression. “Very well. That’s a good answer.” He turned to Zi Wen. “As for you, I’m not going to give you a similar question.”

Zi Wen nodded cautiously, bracing himself.

“If you were given the chance to take revenge against the sect that cast you out,” Chen Ren asked. “Would you take it? Would you kill the young master who forced you to give up on cultivation?”

Zi Wen froze, his eyes widening. The question clearly caught him off guard. He glanced at his brother, who gave him a subtle, encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, Zi Wen lowered his gaze, deep in thought.

“I won’t lie. If I became strong enough and that man stood before me again, I’d want to spar with him. To prove to myself that I could beat him.” He paused, his fists clenching. “But would I kill him? I don’t know. Revenge doesn’t drive me anymore. It’s been too long, and I’m not petty enough to chase after someone who might not even remember me. I’ve realized something: it’s better to focus on improving myself than wasting time on the past.”

Chen Ren gave a genuine smile, satisfied with the answer. “Very well. You’ve both passed. Welcome to the Divine Coin Sect.”

Zi Han’s face broke into a wide grin, and he immediately bowed low. “Thank you, Sect Leader Chen!”

Zi Wen, more reserved, rose from his seat and bowed as well. Though stoic, there was a quiet sincerity in his voice. “Thank you, Sect Leader Chen.”

Chen Ren waved his hand lightly. “You can both return for now. Once recruitment is complete, I’ll call for you.” He then focused on Zi Wen. “I know you have questions—about my spirit roots and what I said about martial dao not being your path. I’ll explain everything after recruitment is done.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the brothers left, leaving Chen Ren and Yalan alone in the room.

After the brothers had left, the room fell silent, save for the faint scratching of Chen Ren’s quill as he jotted down notes. Setting it aside, he turned to Yalan, who was perched lazily behind.

“Looks like we got two good members,” Chen Ren said with a small smile.

Yalan stretched, her tail flicking lazily before she glanced at him. “One.”

Chen Ren raised an eyebrow.

“The older one might have some potential,” Yalan clarified. “But the younger one? He doesn’t even have spirit roots. At best, he’ll make a good worker. I doubt he’ll ever be of much use offensively.”

A low chuckle escaped Chen Ren. “Give it time. You’ll see.”

Yalan narrowed her eyes, studying him intently. “What’s going on in that mind of yours, Chen Ren?”

“Nothing much,” he replied, the corners of his mouth curving into a sly smile. “You’ll know in time.”

“Hmph.” Yalan snickered, hopping down from her place. “Always so cryptic. Fine, let’s continue with the recruitment then. Though I doubt your so-called optimism will bear any fruit.”

Chen Ren stood and stretched, motioning toward the door for the next candidate. “Who knows? We might just find another cultivator among these villagers.”

Yalan let out a dry laugh. “If we do, I’ll eat my tail. I’d be surprised if there’s another cultivator in this entire group.”

Chen Ren grinned. “Then let’s see whose predictions come true.”

As Yalan settled beside him, Chen Ren called out for the next candidate.

***

The smell of sawdust filled his nostrils. The man sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of his small hut, his hands deftly carving patterns into the wooden puppet in front of him. The puppet, no larger than a toddler, was detailed down to the folds of its clothing, its wooden fingers joined for mobility. A set of tiny symbols, snaked along its limbs.

“The balance is off. If the hand’s embedded here, it’ll throw off the leg’s flexibility... I need to realign this section—”

Knock, knock.

The sudden interruption made his hand slip, the blade nicking the puppet’s arm. His jaw clenched, irritation flaring as he set the carving tool down with a loud thunk. Rising to his feet, he stomped toward the door.

“Who dares—” He flung the door open, only to be greeted by the sight of a scruffy-haired boy grinning up at him. The boy barely came up to his waist, his patched-up shirt hanging loose on his thin frame.

“What do you want, little Guo?” the man growled, his tone sharp.

“Brother Hong,” the boy chirped, undeterred by the glare. “Did you hear? A sect’s recruiting people in Meadow Village!”

Hong’s eyes narrowed, his irritation giving way to faint curiosity. “A sect? What’s its name?”

“The Divine Coin Sect!” Zhou declared proudly, his grin widening.

“Divine Coin Sect?” Hong repeated, his brows knitting together. He rolled the name around in his mind but came up blank. “Never heard of it. Why are you telling me this?”

Zhou crossed his arms, clearly enjoying himself. “My mom said they’re taking mortals too. She told me to tell you because maybe you can join and stop sitting at home playing with your dolls.”

Before Hong could react, Zhou let out a loud laugh, turned, and sprinted away down the dirt path.

“Damn brat,” Hong muttered, shaking his head as he closed the door. He returned to the puppet, picking up his tools, but his focus was gone. The boy’s words nagged at him.

“A sect taking in mortals?” he murmured, his knife pausing mid-cut. “That’s... unusual. No sect worth its name recruits mortals, not even for menial work. That’s what outer disciples are for.”

His thoughts spiraled. “I’ve never heard of this Divine Coin Sect either. A new sect? Or...” A sudden chill ran down his spine as his mind conjured the worst possibility.

“A demonic sect.” The words escaped his lips like a curse. “They’re trying to gather mortals for a ritual sacrifice, aren’t they?”

The more Hong thought about it, the more convinced he became. “It’s too suspicious. A sect no one’s heard of, recruiting mortals? It’s either a trap or something worse.”

He glanced at the puppet on his workbench, its incomplete form seeming to mock him. With a sigh, he set down his tools and stood, grabbing his cloak.

“I need to check this out,” he muttered, striding toward the door.

Once outside, Hong glanced toward the edge of the village, where the forest was. He took a deep breath, then tapped into his qi. The energy surged through his body, and with a leap, he disappeared into the trees, his speed a blur to the naked eye.

The dense forest whipped past him as he pushed his cultivation, covering miles in mere minutes. His mind raced as fast as his feet. If this really is a demonic sect, I need to find out before they harm anyone.

As the trees thinned, the sprawling fields of Meadow Village came into view. Hong slowed his pace, his keen eyes scanning the area. He didn’t have to look far.

A large crowd had already gathered in the village square, forming a line that stretched toward the entrance of the house. A burly old man stood at the front of the crowd, his hands clasped in front of him as he nodded and talked to the village men, who were clearly excited. Behind him was a small young woman—probably a maid. Around them were a group of kids, helping to keep the line in order because of the eager crowd.

Hong frowned as he approached the scene. “Looks like I’ve found them.”

As Hong found himself among the crowd, the murmur of voices reached his ears. Villagers whispered excitedly about two brothers who had been accepted into the sect. Snippets of conversation flitted past him,

“They say they had to go through an interview... they say he is asking questions.”

“Must be nice to get in so easily.”

“Easily? I heard they answered a lot of questions.”

The more Hong listened, the deeper his frown grew. His confusion was mounting. He felt no trace of demonic qi in the air—none of the sinister energy he expected to find if this were truly a trap. Instead, there was an odd sense of anticipation and unease, but nothing outright malicious.

As he pushed closer to get a better look at the house where the so-called “recruitment” was taking place, a voice yelled at him..

“Hey! Get in line like everyone else!”

Hong turned to see an older man glaring at him, arms crossed. Several other villagers shot him similarly annoyed looks.

“I...” Hong started, but then quickly clamped his mouth shut. Drawing too much attention to himself could jeopardize his cover. With a reluctant sigh, he muttered, “Fine,” and shuffled to the back of the line.

He stood there, arms crossed, his sharp eyes taking in everything around him. People came and went from the house, most emerging with crestfallen faces. He could hear snippets of their disappointment.

“He said I didn’t have a spirit root.”

“He didn’t even take me for labor work...”

“Young Master Chen Ren said he’ll let me know through Chief Muyang.”

So, they’re not taking just anyone, Hong mused. He scanned the area again, his senses reaching out for even the faintest trace of foul play, but there was nothing. The people leaving were sad, not terrified. This... doesn’t feel like a demonic sect at all. So, what are they up to? Chen Ren, was it?

The line moved slowly, and with each step forward, Hong’s curiosity deepened. By the time he reached the entrance, his nerves were taut with a mix of confusion and suspicion.

Finally, his turn came, and he stepped into the room.

The interior was surprisingly bare. Two chairs, but the only other occupants were a man seated calmly behind a wooden table and a sleek white cat curled up at his feet. Her amber eyes fixed on Hong the moment he entered.

Hong’s gaze raked over the room again, looking for an aptitude stone or any other tools typically used in such tests, but there was nothing. No aptitude stone? he thought, his brow furrowing. How is he testing people then?

His sharp eyes flicked back to the man who was seated.

At first glance, the man—Chen Ren—seemed ordinary. Dark hair, robes that spoke of wealth—but not too much wealth, just the right amount. And the demeanor of a usual mortal, but as Hong extended his senses to probe him, he felt the unmistakable aura of a cultivator. It was subtle but undeniable.

So, he’s the real deal. But what’s his game?

“Welcome. Please, take a seat,” Chen Ren spoke up.

Hong hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. “What’s your name?” the man asked.

“Hong Yi,” he replied curtly, eyeing the man warily.

Chen Ren nodded, jotting something down on a piece of parchment. “Good. Sit down, Hong Yi. We’ll begin the aptitude test shortly.”

Hong barely suppressed a snicker as he lowered himself into the chair. No aptitude stone, no array... let’s see how you plan to pull this off. If this is your way of lying to people, then I will show everyone the truth.

Hong sat stiffly in the chair, his silver eyes locked onto the man in front of him. The calm behavior of this supposed sect leader was unsettling. There was no grand display of power, no oppressive aura to assert dominance—just a quiet confidence. The white cat still sat at the man’s feet, its gaze unbroken as if it saw straight through him.

He suddenly rose from his chair and stepped closer, extending a hand toward Hong.

“What are you doing?” Hong asked, moving back—out of reach.

“Relax, this won’t hurt.”

Hong tensed as the man placed a hand on his shoulder, but to his surprise, no surge of qi invaded his body. He had been prepared to resist any attempt to pry into his cultivation base, yet there was nothing—no force, no invasive technique.

What is this?

Instead of focusing on the man, Hong’s attention drifted to the white cat. Something about the way it watched him sent a chill down his spine.

Chen Ren’s eyes began to shift, his brow furrowing, then his lips twitching in what might have been amusement or annoyance. After a moment, he removed his hand and crossed his arms.

“You have sixty-seven spirit roots,” the man said flatly.

Hong’s jaw tightened, his mind racing.

“And you’re in the qi refinement realm. First star.”

Hong’s breath caught, his eyes narrowing sharply. His concealment technique should have masked his cultivation base entirely. There was no way this man could have seen through it so easily.

“Why are you here?”

Hong’s eyes widened at that question. “How... How do you know that?”

***

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

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