Dao of Money

A scent wafted through the leaves, slipping past the annoyingly tall trees to enter his nose. The little beast sniffed, ears twitching. He did not know what it was, only that he had to try it.

The berries and herbs of the wilderness had long ceased to satisfy him. They filled his stomach, but there was no pleasure in them. A great being such as himself deserved more. The large, two-legged creatures who spoke in strange tongues and built their little houses with wood and hay—surely, they should be serving him, presenting him with offerings worthy of his stature. And yet, they had proven disappointingly unwilling, always offering the same tasteless berries. Over and over. And over.

He was sick of it.

So, he moved.

Through branches, over leaves, past the screeching birds that dared get in his way. He leapt, tumbled through the underbrush, and finally, he arrived.

A clearing.

A large pot sat in the middle, strange tubes connected to it, wisps of heat rising into the air. And beside it stood one of the two-legged creatures.

He eyed him warily. Tall. Just enough broad shoulders to fit his height. His fur—no, his clothes—were dull, the color of dust and dirt. His mane was dark, tied back, but strands fell over his forehead, messier than the usual ones that walked this land. His black eyes locked onto him, and for a moment, the little beast stiffened.

Danger.

It was the same feeling he had felt when he had accidentally stepped into the path of a wolf that roamed the forest, acting as a protector of sorts. A silent weight pressing down, a fleeting thought that he was prey.Then, it passed.

He flicked his tail, shaking the feeling away and turned his gaze. Next to the human sat another creature—not one of his kind, but close. A feline. A hunter. Not a beast of the wild but not fully tamed either. She basked in the sun, relaxed, yet her sharp amber eyes followed him with interest.

He cared for neither of them.

His true target lay just ahead.

A large bowl, filled to the brim with something that carried that intoxicating scent. Beside it, a smaller one, just as inviting. He sniffed the air again, his blessed tongue already tingling with anticipation.

He could not stop.

Food awaited him.

So he sprinted forward.

The human’s eyes widened in surprise, but he was too mesmerized by his majestic self to react. A fitting response. Most creatures found themselves stunned when faced with such unparalleled grace.

The small bowl was close now. The scent—rich, sharp, and unlike anything he had ever tasted—filled his nose, making his whiskers twitch. He took one last sniff, confirming what he already knew.

This was it.

Without hesitation, he plunged in.

A bitter taste hit his tongue first, but he powered through. His refined palate adjusted swiftly, savoring the complexity of the liquid. He drank and drank, the warmth spreading in his belly, coating his tongue in its novel richness. A deep satisfaction settled in his chest. Finally. Finally, something worthy of him.

When the bowl was empty, he licked his lips, let out a contented sigh, and patted his stomach with his paws.

Only then did he glance up at the human.

The two-legged creature was staring at him, mouth slightly open, looking utterly stunned. The little beast blinked. He didn’t know why. Maybe the human had never witnessed such elegance up close before. Understandable.

Deciding to break him out of his daze, he scampered forward, stopping at the human’s feet. The large creature crouched, eyes scanning him with some strange intent, before extending a hand.

Ah. He understood.

With a dignified leap, he climbed up, perching himself upon the broad shoulder. From here, the view was excellent. The trees stretched out in the distance, the sun bathed the clearing in warmth, and he—he felt grand. Larger than life.

He lifted his paws in triumph.

Yes. Perhaps he had just acquired his first true servant.

As he basked in his glory, the human turned to the feline and muttered, “The squirrel doesn’t seem affected by the alcohol.”

Squirrel?

His tail bristled.

He knew many names for his divine species, but ”squirrel” was not one of them. How dare the human compare him to those mundane, nut-hoarding pests? He prepared to deliver a righteous smack to the fool’s face when the feline spoke.

“I don’t think it’s a squirrel,” she said, her amber eyes gleaming with knowledge. “I believe it’s a lunari. And a male lunari at that. They are rarer than their female counterparts.”

He froze.

For the first time in his long life—spanning four hundred and sixty nine sunsets—he was genuinely surprised.

The feline… could speak?

Not just understand, as all majestic beings like himself could, but speak the strange language of the two-legged ones.

How?

As he pondered this revelation, the feline spoke again, calmly.

“I think it’s because it’s a spirit beast. Not really strong. Just Tier 1… and even then, a low Tier 1. But a spirit beast nonetheless.”

A spirit beast? He scoffed internally. Of course, he was a spirit beast. He was more than just some ordinary animal.

But wait—did she say low Tier 1?

His tail twitched in irritation. His fur bristled, standing on end like the spines of an angered porcupine.

Low Tier 1? The more he thought about it, the more his anger increased.

The cat’s voice was calm, almost indifferent, but to his ears, it carried the weight of condescension. His tail flicked once, then again, sharp and agitated. His small claws pressed into the fabric of the human’s shoulder, a silent protest. He was not weak. He was not some lowly creature to be pitied. He was—

A warmth settled on his head.

He froze.

Fingers pressed lightly between his ears, ruffling the fur in slow, rhythmic strokes. A shiver ran down his spine. His first instinct was to swipe the hand away, to remind this human of his place, but… the touch was nice. A deep warmth spread from the top of his head down his back, loosening the tension in his limbs. His tail, which had been flicking angrily, stilled, curling slightly in contentment.

Strange.

He blinked up at the human, who had turned back to the cat. His voice was steady, thoughtful.

“So, should we keep him? He’s cute.”

The cat gave him another long, unreadable look before flicking her tail.

“Your choice,” she said, stretching out in the sunlight. “Just keep him away from the alcohol, or you’ll never make enough to sell.”

The human hummed, considering, before shifting his gaze back to him. He met his dark eyes—deep, endless, reflecting something unreadable.

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“Then I guess I’ll take care of you.”

He said it so simply, like it was already decided. Then the human tilted his head, eyes narrowing in thought. A moment passed.

“Now, what should I name you?”

The beast opened his mouth, ready to tell this foolish human the name of his majestic lineage—

Then he paused.

What… was his name?

His whole life, through four hundred and sixty-nine sunsets, he had moved through the world nameless, known only by the quiet awe of the lesser creatures and the whispered warnings of those smart enough to recognize his greatness. A name?

He had never needed one.

His ears twitched as he studied the human. Well… perhaps he would allow this one to name him. That much, at least, was acceptable for someone who had already proven his worth in head pats.

The human’s brows furrowed, the same expression that he made when debating between more food or a long nap. His lips parted, then closed. Thoughtful. Calculating. Then, finally, his face brightened, eyes lighting with the satisfaction of someone who had reached a grand conclusion.

A slow smirk spread across his lips.

“Whiskey.”

He blinked.

The human grinned. “Your name will be Whiskey.”

Whis Ke.

He turned the sound over in his mind, tasting it like a rare berry plucked straight from the branch. Odd. Sharp. Unlike any of the names he had ever heard the big creatures call one another.

But as he thought about it again and again, something stirred inside him—a strange warmth, something deeper than the alcohol he had just tasted. It was his.

A name.

He rolled his shoulders, puffing out his chest, lifting his paws as if announcing his new title to the world.

Whis Ke.

Yes.

From this day forward, his majestic self would be known as Whis Ke. The name given by his newly acquired human servant.

***

Chen Ren hadn’t expected to gain a spirit beast companion while brewing alcohol, but fate had a peculiar sense of humor. The small creature, covered in sleek white fur with a bushy tail that flicked at the slightest provocation, had attached itself to him after downing a full bowl of discarded alcohol. He licked its tiny paws, eyes half-lidded in satisfaction, before climbing up his arm like he had always belonged there.

Strange little thing. But cute, in an arrogant, self-important way.

More surprising than its presence, however, was its obsession with alcohol. He sniffed at every jar he opened, jumped onto tables to inspect bubbling liquids, and, if he wasn’t careful, dove headfirst into cups meant for testing. He had to start covering his batches, lest he find the tiny drunk curled up inside a brewing pot again. Still, as long as the lunari kept lapping up failed experiments without complaint, he supposed he earned his keep.

Whiskey didn’t mind any scraps that he received. And Chen Ren didn’t complain.

It wasn’t just him the little beast had taken a liking to. Zi Wen had been talking to him more frequently on dao and what it might mean to be a beastmaster and these conversations would mostly happen when Chen Ren would be mid-brew and in one of these talks, Whiskey had realised he found the middle aged cultivator pleasing.

Whiskey often perched on Zi Wen’s knee, tail curled around his body as he watched the man with critical, beady eyes. Zi Wen, in return, stroked his beard in contemplation. Sometimes, he would completely ignore the spirit beast and continue to talk with Chen Ren about dao and beasts; but throughout, Whiskey would be nearby.

It showed that Zi Wen was liked by spirit beasts, and his assumption of Dao of Taming was correct. It made Chen Ren hope for the best; hope that the man would choose his Dao and attempt to connect with it soon.

Then there was Luo Heng, a different sort of visitor. Unlike Zi Wen’s philosophical musings, his curiosity was far more grounded. He asked about cultivation techniques, his life story as someone who had been a cultivator for a long time and how the immortal society worked.

Through his conversation, he was able to get to know the man better, but one particular frustration gnawed at him—the fact that his lightning cultivation manual was utterly useless for him.

It was because the man’s spirit roots were earth-aspected. Yalan had confirmed it during the aptitude test, and he wouldn’t be able to make use of his lightning manual.

Still, not all paths were blocked.

Chen Ren tossed him a few old mortal grade martial art manuals from his childhood.

“Cultivation isn’t just about one thing. Work on the foundation first,” he said. “Figure out your Dao. You’re better off knowing what path to walk upon as I get you a cultivation manual.”

Luo Heng didn’t complain and accepted the manuals and started to practice them with Zi Wen helping him to understand the stances and forms.

While the cultivators wrestled with their paths, the mortals had no such luxury. They had tasks, responsibilities, and deadlines—and Tang Xiulan saw to it that they met them.

Chen Ren had known she was intelligent, but watching her teach was another thing entirely. She grasped concepts quickly, adapted them, and had already organized lessons for the street kids and villager-turned-students.

Basic literacy, arithmetic, and business fundamentals—everything they’d need to handle his growing enterprises.

That was one problem he didn’t have to worry about.

Seeing that his sect was slowly forming a rhythm, his mind moved to the next task at hand: alcohol distribution. He needed to finalize his supply chain before scaling production. Once that was set, he could shift focus to expanding his food stalls. Ice cream would have to wait—summer had passed, and he wasn’t foolish enough to push a seasonal product.

Still, the future stretched ahead, full of possibilities.

He knew he needed to produce a fresh batch of the alcohol without an awful taste. And for two weeks, he kept distilling alcohol and trying to get the flavour right. It took a while and a lot of frustration as he kept trying different concentrations and methods until finally, he found himself making a batch that was just good enough to sell. It took another week to create a carriage full of them with his sect members helping out before Chen Ren decided it was finally the time to take a trip around the empire.

Just before he left, he sat across Xiulan, papers scattered across the table as they finalised the plans for the sect’s upcoming expansion.

”Is it really necessary for you to go?” Xiulan’s question cut through the quiet, her fingers fidgeting nervously on her lap. ”We’ve just started things here, and I might be able to get some more help.”

Chen Ren inhaled through his nose. His eyes met her for the briefest moment and saw how serious she was. “Yes, I did tell you I have a few things to do other than the alcohol supply line.”

“I do know, young master. But that’s what makes me worried. You’re going to an established sect, and from what you’ve told me, it can be dangerous.”

He gave a small nod. “Yes, it is dangerous. But Yalan will be with me. And I think I’ll at least be able to preserve my life and escape with her there, if anything goes wrong.”

Xiulan let out a breath, her posture relaxing slightly as she processed his words. “All right. I’ll make sure to handle the construction and plumbing. Though, I think it might take some time for the village builder and laborers to understand your diagrams.”

Chen Ren smiled wryly, feeling a familiar frustration at the mention of plumbing.

Beyond the hustle of his businesses, Chen Ren had a vision for expanding his place, a long-term goal of building more facilities to accommodate the growing needs of the sect. But for now, his focus was on enhancing the three buildings they already had. More floors, more rooms, and, most importantly, proper plumbing.

Yes, plumbing.

It was something that grated on him about this era—the complete lack of efficient plumbing and proper facilities for nature’s calls. A seemingly minor detail that no one ever seemed to address in any Xianxia novel. It always seemed so absurd to him. Even cultivators, according to Yalan, weren’t exempt. They could survive without food for days, and as a result, their bodily needs were minimal. But that only left one glaring problem: no one had thought to advance the plumbing systems.

Chen Ren wasn’t about to let that slide. He intended to change that, starting with his own buildings.

He felt a sense of contentment as he reviewed the plans—everything sketched out in detail. He’d handed over the blueprints to Xiulan, making sure to emphasize where manual labor would be needed. He trusted her to follow the instructions. She had always been good at executing his plans, and he had no doubt she would manage this one just as effectively.

The door opened then—cutting his thoughts short, and Zi Han stepped in. “Sect Leader Chen, we’re ready to go.”

Chen Ren stood, giving Xiulan one last look. “Okay, I’ll be back in two weeks.” He gave her a reassuring smile, though his mind was already turning to the journey ahead.

He walked outside with Zi Han and Xiulan, and the sight of the modified carriage waiting for him made his chest swell with pride. The carriage, once used for their initial travels, had been altered to fit crates of his newly perfected alcohol, and it was now packed to the brim, ready to make its way across the empire.

The group had gathered. Hong Yi and Anji stood by the carriage, their eyes scanning the surroundings. Yalan was seated on the ground and Whiskey stood on top of the carriage.

As he approached the group, his gaze flicked over Hong Yi, who was deeply engrossed in a map. When Hong Yi noticed him approaching, he lifted his eyes, a skeptical look creeping across his face. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice laced with doubt.

Chen Ren gave a reassuring smile, his confidence unwavering. “Yes, I’m confident,” he replied, then stepped forward and traced his finger along a line on the map. His finger paused at a small town named Black Lotus Town, the first destination on their journey. “We’ll be moving from here,” he said, his finger continuing along the path. “Then we’ll follow this road through the major cities to reach Ashen. This will be our destination.”

The path he outlined was a half-circle, the route weaving through some lesser-known towns. “On our way back,” he continued, “we’ll pass through Cloud Mist City.”

“What’s in Ashen City?” Anji asked.

Chen Ren pointed at a spot on the map, just before the last leg of the journey. “From what I gathered, it houses the Zhu Clan and they have one of the largest breweries in the region, with alcohol businesses spanning multiple cities. We’ll be trying to get in business with them.”

He paused, his finger moving to another part of the map, closer to the halfway point between them and Ashen. “But before we get there,” he added, “we’ll make a stop at the Blood Iron Sect.”

Hong Yi’s eyes changed at the mention of the sect. He gulped, his brow furrowing in concern. “I really hope you’re right about this,” he muttered, the uncertainty now evident in his voice.

It made Anji frown deeper. She clutched the map in her hand.

“Don’t worry,” Chen Ren said. “It won’t be the first time I would made a big organization bow down to me.”

***

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