Dao of Money

Their journey to Heiwu, the city closest to the vault, had been smooth—almost suspiciously so. Not a single beast had mistaken them for a midday snack, and the skies had remained a calm grey the entire way.

The city itself sat on the eastern edge of the empire, far from the regions Chen Ren was more familiar with. When he first learned the vault was hidden nearby, it had struck him how completely opposite it lay from the location of the Void Blade Sect. Whether by design or fate, someone had gone to great lengths to bury it as far away from the sect as possible.

According to Anji, the vault was sealed deep within a mountain—protected not by force, but misdirection. Complex arrays covered its location, bending perception and warping direction. Even if one walked right past it, they’d never know. Without exact knowledge, even finding the entrance was near impossible. Recovering the treasures hidden deep inside? That was another story altogether.

He spent most of the trip deep in thought, rethinking contingencies in his mind while the others enjoyed the peace of the road. That was fine. He didn’t expect them to share his anxiety and even if they did, they didn’t show it to face.

Once they reached Heiwu city’s outskirts, he ordered the carriage to stay hidden between dense trees, away from roads and eyes. From here on, only he and Yalan would go forward—into the city to find food, probe the local powers, and gather any rumours about strange happenings near the mountains. There was always a chance Blazing Ember Sect had gotten there first. Unlikely, sure, but not impossible.

If they had, He needed to know.

Anji had wanted to come along, but he had calmly refused. She was the only person from Void Blade Sect and needed to be hidden. He could understand her impatience—hell, he felt it—but understanding didn’t change facts.

Instead, he reached for Hong Yi’s mask and placed it over his face, his features morphing into that of an aged, wrinkled man. Disguise in place, he gave Anji a nod and slipped into the city with Yalan by his side.

It wasn’t much of a city.

More like a mining town with iron dust in the air and gunk-stained buildings lining the slope. Most of the people here earned their coin hauling ore or shaping metal—Chen Ren counted three smithies within the first two streets. But cultivation? That was rare. As they moved through the narrow roads, Yalan quietly pointed out only two cultivators in the entire place—both in the body forging realm, and from their ragged robes and wandering gazes, they looked more like rogue drifters than anything serious.Good. That meant less eyes to worry about.

After a few casual inquiries, Chen Ren found the location of the town’s best-known tavern and made his way over. In towns like these, inns and taverns were more than just places to sleep or drink—they were the heartbeat of local gossip. And he needed information. Also, their food supplies had run thin during the journey, and while hunting a beast would’ve been easy enough, he didn’t want to risk leaving tracks or wasting qi. Jerky and flatbread would do just fine.

The place was called The Nine Heavens—a squat building with an uneven roof and a faded sign dangling on one hinge, certainly not like a heaven. But inside, the place was alive. Packed with miners and laborers, all loud voices and heavy laughter, buns and stew bowls in hand.

Chen Ren headed straight for the counter where a burly man stood, arms crossed over his apron-covered chest. The man gave him a quick once-over and grunted in greeting.

“Got stew, boiled grain, and roasted tubers,” the man said. “A meal will cost you four copper wen. Room’s another six.”

“I’m not staying,” Chen Ren replied with a faint smile. “Just passing through. Looking to stock up for the road—dried jerky, maybe something that’ll last a few days.”

“Ah, a traveler.” The man nodded knowingly, wiping his hands on a cloth. “I’ve got smoked jerky, dried flatbread, and some nut packs left from yesterday. All decent stuff. You’ll be looking at one silver wen for a good bundle.”

Chen Ren agreed with a slight nod, and the man shouted at a teenage boy darting between tables, “Go grab a pack for our friend here!”

As the boy moved to get it, Chen Ren waited until the counter was less busy, except for the customers who came for refills. This was the moment to ask what he needed. He leaned forward. “I was thinking of heading near the western ridges,” he said. The burly man’s eyes immediately came to him, for a brief moment and then he went back to wiping the dirty plates. “Heard there might be some wild berry patches around those parts—Askar berries, I think they’re called?”

“Not exactly the west side,” the man replied, “but near enough, yeah. You’ll find some if you look hard enough, though beasts roam there too. Tier 1 types mostly. Nothing too dangerous, but still…”

Chen Ren gave a small chuckle. “I’m good at sneaking, and better at running. I’ll manage.”

The man grunted again but then hesitated. His thick brow furrowed for a moment. Chen Ren felt the man’s subtle opening, and his suspicion confirmed when he cleared his throat and leaned forward.

“Beasts aren’t what you should be worried about.”

Chen Ren raised an eyebrow. “No?”

The man extended a thick hand silently across the counter. Understanding the cue, Chen Ren slid a copper piece into his palm. The weight of it disappeared instantly.

“Yesterday,”he murmured, “a group passed through town. Didn’t look local. Dressed like travelers, but the kind who don’t carry picks or shovels. Asking about the western side of the mountain too. Real loud about it. Caused quite a stir, then left before nightfall.”

That sent a twinge of tension through Chen Ren’s chest, but he kept his expression even. “How many?”

“Five. All cloaked. One of ’em had a big sword. Real shiny.”

“What kind of commotion?” Chen Ren asked, keeping his tone casual like he was asking about a road direction.

“One of them was a woman. Striking—pretty in the way that always stirs trouble in towns like this. Young master of the Windbone Clan spotted her and, well… thought he could charm her into spending the night.”

Chen Ren already had a bad feeling creeping down his spine.

“Didn’t end well,” the man continued with a half-smirk. “She didn’t even raise her voice. Just punched him square in the chest. Broke half his ribs and maybe more. He’s still struggling to stay alive.”

Chen Ren blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. “And the Windbone Clan let that go?”

“That’s the strange part,” the man said. “They haven’t done a thing. Sent a few men to confront them—probably looking for revenge—but they all came back quiet. No injuries, no fight. Just… came back.”

Chen Ren’s eyes widened, the pieces clicking into place. “They’re cultivators.”

The man nodded slowly. “That’s what the whole town’s whispering. Dangerous ones. No sect symbols on their robes, but even the Windbone Clan—wealthy as they are—won’t touch them now. They hold rights to three iron mines, mind you, and aren’t used to bowing their heads. If they’re staying quiet… Well, it means those cultivators aren’t just strong—they’ve got powerful backing. Something that the Windbone Clan can’t go against.”

Chen Ren didn’t say it aloud, but the thought echoed like thunder in his mind.

He asked a few more questions—about the Windbone Clan, the other local forces, the layout of the town—but his thoughts kept drifting back to the group that had come through just a day ago. It was too much of a coincidence. And he wasn’t the type to believe in luck, not when it came to things like ancient vaults and inheritance sites.

They found it. Or at least found something close enough to act on.

He left The Nine Heavens with a scowl tugging at the corner of his mouth, the dry bundle of food tucked under his arm now forgotten. He didn’t return to the carriage immediately. Instead, he wandered across the town, visiting other stalls, speaking to vendors and stable hands, confirming the story in pieces and rumors.

It was all the same. A cloaked group. One pretty woman. Dangerous. Unbothered by the Windbone Clan. Asking about the western forest.

If they were from Blazing Ember Sect—and every instinct in his bones screamed they were—then things had already grown far more complicated. By the time he made it back to the hidden carriage, dusk had begun to settle across the trees. Anji was perched on a boulder nearby, her expression distant, while Hong Yi sat cross-legged with a puppet in his lap, polishing its frame with a cloth as if it were a treasured weapon.

Both of them looked up as Chen Ren approached.

Without preamble, he dropped the bundle of supplies and said, “We need to change plans.”

Anji stood, her brows furrowed. “Why?”

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“There are other cultivators heading for the same ruins. And I’m inclined to believe they belong to the Blazing Ember Sect.”

Silence dropped between them.

The weight of his words sank in immediately. Hong Yi stilled, his fingers frozen on the puppet. Anji didn’t move, but Chen Ren noticed how her skin lost a shade of color, the confident air around her faltering just slightly.

She tried to speak, then stopped. Even before she said a word, Chen Ren could already see it—the fear. Not of the fight, but of losing what they’d come for. And he felt it too. They were no longer racing time. They were racing an enemy they couldn’t afford to let win.

She had seemed relaxed throughout the journey—smiling occasionally, asking questions, reading a book she had brought when bored. But now, he noticed it. Her hand shaking furiously on her lap, fingers curling and uncurling at her side.

The mask was slipping. And for the first time, it looked like her worst fear had walked right out of her nightmares and stood in front of her.

“Ruthless heavens,” Hong Yi muttered, setting down the puppet he had been polishing. “What kind of coincidence is this?”

Chen Ren exhaled sharply. “Looks like we’re not getting an easy path after all.”

Anji pulled in a slow breath, visibly trying to steady herself before asking, “How strong are they?”

“I don’t know,” Chen Ren said, shaking his head. “But if the inheritance really holds as much value as we think, then they won’t send just anyone. Expect foundation establishment realm cultivators at the very least.” His gaze shifted to her, serious. “I thought no one else knew of it.”

“They don’t,” Anji replied quickly. “My father told me—information about the ruin is always passed down verbally. There’s no written record. It shouldn’t be possible for them to know.”

“But they know the location,” Chen Ren said flatly.

That silenced her. The fire in her eyes dimmed, and for a brief moment, doubt crept in.

He studied her carefully. If she was telling the truth—and he had no reason to believe she wasn’t—then the other group must’ve found it by other means. A rumor. A slip of the tongue. Or maybe just dumb luck. Either way, if they only knew where the vault was and not what lay inside, that gave Chen Ren’s group a single, narrow edge.

One they’d have to gamble everything on.

“What are we going to do?” Hong Yi asked. “Return to the sect? Wait for another chance?”

“No!” Anji snapped, stepping forward. “We can’t. If the inheritance falls into the hands of the Blazing Ember Sect, it won’t just be bad—it’ll be a disaster.”

Hong Yi frowned. “It won’t be good foryou. Don’t act like we all swore some loyalty oath to your sect’s legacy. You’re the one that dragged us here. And now you want us to throw our lives away just to protect a few old scrolls and some inheritance you haven’t told us about?”

“You’re NOT doing me a favor,” she snapped back. “You’re here for the manuals too. The treasures. Don’t pretend you’re just being charitable!”

Before the argument could spiral further, Chen Ren raised his voice. “Enough.”

They both fell quiet, though their glares still lingered.

“Fighting solves nothing,” he said. “We talk. We plan. Then we decide.”

He turned toward Yalan, who had been silent the entire time, her tail flicking lazily as she sat atop the carriage wheel. She lifted her head slightly, eyes glinting with intelligence, and chose—for once—to speak aloud instead of through the mind link. After all, there were no secrets here.

“I believe we should still head to the vault,” she said. “We’re close. If those cultivators don’t know what’s inside, we may still beat them to it. I see no reason to turn back now.”

Anji let out a breath, some of the tension lifting from her face. A faint smile touched her lips, grateful. But Hong Yi’s scowl only deepened, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

Chen Ren shifted his attention back to her. “And what about the cultivators?”

Anji’s smile vanished. That was the real question.

“We plan around them,” Yalan said simply.

All eyes turned to her.

She flicked her tail, gaze resting on Anji. “Are you certain most of the vault’s knowledge is passed down verbally?”

Anji straightened, the tremble in her hand now gone. “Yes. My father was clear—there are no written records. Only trusted successors even hear about it.”

Yalan gave a small nod, as if she was satisfied with the answer. “Then we proceed assuming they only know the location. If the vault has restrictions—bloodline locks, formations that reject outsiders—then we already have the advantage. They might get there first, but getting in… that’s a different matter entirely. We just need to make sure none of them leave.”

Chen Ren grimaced.

She was right. If even one of them escaped and reported back, it wouldn’t just be a ruined opportunity—it could become a war. But still, the idea of killing people who weren’t enemies yet didn’t sit well with him. It wasn’t some duel over pride or honor. This was… preemptive. But what other choice did they have?

They couldn’t capture foundation establishment realm cultivators. If they tried, they’d just end up dead. No, the only way forward would be to lure them into the vault’s traps—if they could—and let Yalan handle the rest.

He felt far more suited to economic games and business rivalries. Profits, sabotage, trade blockades. Those didn’t involve much blood.

But this was the path of a cultivator. Everyone walked through blood eventually.

And Yalan’s suggestion made sense. He didn’t want to go back now—not when they were this close. And as long as no one learned their identities, they could finish this and leave without any trouble from Blazing Ember Sect.

He took a breath and looked around the group. “Let’s vote.”

“Vote?” Hong Yi raised a brow.

Chen Ren nodded. “Yes. Majority rules. We decide together.”

“Alright then,” he said, crossing his arms.

Chen Ren looked around. “Who’s in favor of going back? Raise your hand.”

Only Hong Yi lifted his. His two puppets, following his command, raised their mechanical arms beside him. He glanced at them, sighed, as if he knew that their votes didn’t count.

Chen Ren smirked. “Who’s in favor of going to the vault and taking on the disciples if needed?”

His own hand went up. Then Anji’s. Then, Yalan’s paw raised in silent elegance.

Chen Ren nodded. “I guess the decision’s made.”

“I still think it’s a tie,” Hong Yi grumbled.

Chen Ren walked over and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

Hong Yi narrowed his eyes. “How are you so sure? Foundation establishment cultivators aren’t pushovers. One of them alone can destroy a squad of lesser realm fighters.”

Chen Ren smiled.

“Because I have a plan.”

“A plan?” Hong Yi asked back.

“I thought of one on the way here,” Chen Ren said. “Now we just need to see if the vault is the kind of place where it’ll work.”

***

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