Dao of Money

Wang Jun looked at the medallion as if it were the secret of immortality itself. And by the way he had called it the key to the Gate of Immortals, that might just be the case.

Questions burned through Chen Ren’s mind as he waited in silence, watching Wang Jun examine the object with an intensity that made even the air feel heavier. He glanced at Anji and Yalan—both of them equally absorbed, their eyes fixed on the medallion. Whatever this thing truly was, they all wanted answers.

He’d heard of the Gate of Immortals before back from Gu Tian and the spectre. But no one ever explained what it actually did. Was it a gate to the heavens? A trial that only immortals could pass through? Or was it something more?

Chen Ren’s curiosity itched at him, made him want to urge Wang Jun to speak—but he forced himself to wait still, swirling his qi in his dantian to keep his mind calm. Finally, the head let out a dry, rattling laugh, his golden eyes strangely gleeful. He nearly toppled from his perch with the force of it.

“Ah, the heavens have their own games. I never would have thought I’d wake to find myself face-to-face with an inheritor of the key to the Gate of Immortals.”

Chen Ren’s eyes narrowed. “So… it really is a key to it?”

Wang Jun sobered slightly, glancing up at him. “I can’t say for sure. I don’t understand the writing on the back.”

Yalan frowned, her whiskers twitching. “Then why say it’s the key if you can’t even read it?”

“Because,” Wang Jun said, voice tinged with a grim certainty. “Even if I can’t read it, I recognize the script. And the metal it’s made of. That’s more than enough to confirm it.”

Chen Ren leaned forward. “What kind of metal?”Wang Jun lowered his gaze again, staring at the medallion as if seeing something ancient and long buried. “Soulsteel. A metal forged by infusing parts of the dantian of domain manifestation cultivators into an alloy.” He lifted his gaze again, hollow eyes gleaming. “Don’t ask me how it’s made. It was an ancient practice… a dangerous one. But I’ve only ever heard of one thing that used this script and soulsteel together.”

Chen Ren glanced at the medallion again.

Made from a dantian? The thought made his stomach twist. He had been carrying that thing around for months—tucked in pockets, hung around his neck at times—never realizing it might’ve once been part of someone’s core.

Still, he pushed the image aside and turned his attention back to Wang Jun, who, as always, had more to say.

“Since you all look both curious and disgusted,” Wang Jun drawled, eyes glinting, “let me explain. It’s not as bad as you think.” His eyes shifted slightly, the faintest rattle in his voice as he continued. “Back then, there was a battle called the War of the Immortals. A catastrophic era where countless cultivators perished. In the face of such destruction, some chose to offer up their bodies after death—to have their remains forged into weapons or tools. It was a way to continue protecting their sects even after death.”

He paused, letting the weight of that sink in before adding, “As you should know, cultivators at higher realms—especially those who’ve stepped into domain manifestation—are unique. Their blood, their bones, their very dantian… all of it holds tremendous value. And so, metals like soulsteel came to be.”

Anji wrinkled her nose. “That still sounds like something demonic cultivators would do.”

Wang Jun gave a creaky laugh, his eyes cold and clear. “In war, there’s no righteous path. No taboos. Only what leads to victory. If you want to make a name for yourself in the wider world—no matter how weak it’s become from what I’ve heard—you’d better understand that.”

Chen Ren nodded slowly. As distasteful as it sounded, there was logic in it. It reminded him of the war Qing He had once mentioned—the one against the Devourers, a conflict so devastating that it reshaped the world entirely. Was that the same war? he wondered. The War of the Immortals?

He filed the thought away for later and brought his focus back to the medallion.

“What about the script?” he asked. “And how can you be so sure it’s a key just from that and the metal?”

Wang Jun snorted, as if insulted. “Heaven’s Script isn’t used for anything mundane. That writing is reserved for the divine—gates, seals, trials, inheritances, things crafted by cultivators who stood at the edge of godhood.”

His voice lowered. “You don’t write in Heaven’s Script unless you want the heavens to notice.”

Wang Jun didn’t stop there. His tone grew sharper, more intense, as if he was lecturing a group of stubborn disciples. “It’s not just a script. Do not even think of it as such,” he said. “It’s a language of the heavens. Every word carries power—so much so that even inscribing it can leave the writer vulnerable. And the metal it’s carved into—Soulsteel—isn’t something used for everyday trinkets.”

He gestured toward the medallion with a slight tilt of his head. “When you combine Heaven’s Script with soulsteel, there are only a few possibilities. And more than that—this wasn’t just legend. During my formative years, tales of the keys to the Gate of Immortals were common. Spoken like myth, yes, but known well enough that the powerful coveted them. If people are coming after you, calling it that... then it likely is that. And you just can bind it to you to confirm it.”

Chen Ren leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. “So there’s a way to confirm it?”

“There is,” Wang Jun said with a crooked grin. “And it’s fairly simple.”

Yalan folded her paws and cleared her throat loudly. They all turned to her and she asked one question: “How?”

Wang Jun turned to her. “From what I remember, each of these medallions was meant to be bound to a guardian. Someone chosen to protect it until the time came to use it. The binding was done by blood.”

Chen Ren stilled.

Wang Jun continued. “Since you inherited it, I’d wager someone in your bloodline was that guardian. Or—” His tone turned sly— “your ancestor took it from whoever it was bound to and ended up binding it to himself.”

Chen Ren’s gaze flicked to Yalan for a heartbeat before returning to the medallion. His mind spun. Could someone in Chen Ren”s family have fought in the War of Immortals? It seemed possible. This thing had been passed down for generations. But if it was truly so important… Why had his family let him take it when he was exiled? Had they forgotten what it was? Or had the truth been deliberately hidden—to prevent future descendants from ever trying to use it?

The more he thought about it, the more plausible that sounded. Not forgotten… erased.

Still, he hesitated. The idea of binding it by blood unsettled him. It felt like stepping deeper into something far larger than he could yet grasp. But at the same time, knowing more might save him later. If this really was what Wang Jun claimed it to be, then others—especially demonic cultivators like Gu Tian—would certainly come for it.

And even if the medallion’s purpose remained unclear, the value of soulsteel alone—refined from the dantian of a domain manifestation cultivator—seemed staggering. Chen Ren stared at the medallion, a quiet weight pressing on his chest.

To bind… or not?

But the longer he thought about it, the more he realized something vital—binding the medallion to himself would mean little if he didn’t even understand what the Gate of Immortals truly was. Without that knowledge, it was just an ominous relic wrapped in mystery and danger.

He opened his mouth to ask—but Yalan beat him to it.

“What is the Gate of Immortals anyway?” she asked. “In all my hundreds of years, I’ve never heard of it until recently.”

Wang Jun scoffed, as if she’d asked whether the sky was real.

“Obviously you haven’t,” he said. “This thing is thousands of years old. Even in my time, few had ever heard of it. And only after I reached the pinnacle of cultivation did I find the first real evidence of it. It’s very likely that whatever knowledge once existed was either erased—forcefully—or sealed away using some kind of technique. Only scraps of records remained.”

He paused, letting the weight of that settle in.

“Either way, to answer your question…” He looked at them sheepishly. “I don’t actually know.”

Chen Ren stared at him. Hard.

For a long moment, he genuinely considered punting Wang Jun across the room. But the man only met his glare with a raised brow.

“Don’t give me that look,” Wang Jun said flatly. “It’s not like I’ve seen the Gate myself. I only know fragments. And I wasn’t even sure what they referred to until you showed me that medallion.”

Chen Ren exhaled, annoyed but not surprised. “Then tell me the fragments. Any knowledge is better than none.”

For once, Wang Jun went quiet. His gaze drifted downward, like he was searching through his memories as the seconds dragged. Chen Ren folded his arms, impatience growing.

This man babbled endlessly in the carriage about minor things like the type of spirit grass used in an emperor’s burial incense, but now, when it was something that actually mattered, he was silent?

And the silence continued for a little longer. He was about to butt in when Wang Jun stirred.

“Ah. Yeah. I remembered,” he said, voice a bit lighter now. “Took some time—I was just filtering out all the nonsense. When I found the records, I found a lot of theories. Wild speculation. Lies. Guesswork.”

He looked back up, eyes gleaming. “But what I focused on was what exactly the Gate of Immortals is a gate to.”

Wang Jun let out a breath and settled into his usual lecturing tone. “Like its name suggests, many believe it’s a gate to the heavens. A place where cultivators who reached the peak of immortality dwell. Open it, and you get to join them.” He snorted. “Bullshit.”

Anji blinked. “Why?”

“Obviously,” Wang Jun said, rolling his eyes as much as a severed head could, “the heavens aren’t handing out immortality passes through some door. That goes against everything we know. If immortality was just one gate away, half the continent would be camped outside it by now.”

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Chen Ren couldn’t argue with that.

“The second theory,” Wang Jun continued, “is more grounded. Some believe the gate isn’t a gate to heaven, but a lock—one that guards the secret inheritance of a cultivator who reached the transcendent realm. A realm that’s known to be the peak of immortality.”

That made Yalan and even Anji pause.

“But again,” Wang Jun said with a shrug, “that theory has holes. If there was truly an inheritance behind it, why didn’t the people who held the key take it for themselves? Why pass it down? Why hide it?”

There was a brief silence. And then the floodgates opened. Wang Jun launched into theory after theory—some mystical, others absurd, a few disturbing. One involved a portal to another plane. Another insisted the gate was a prison, holding in something terrible. There was even a theory that the gate didn’t lead anywhere—that it was a test by the heavens to see who was foolish enough to seek it.

By the end of it, Chen Ren felt like his brain had been turned into soup.

He slumped back, rubbing his temples as Wang Jun finally fell silent. Despite how exhausting it was, he could tell that Wang Jun had spent years, maybe even centuries, thinking about this. Obsessing over it.

And yet, for all the wild speculation, none of the theories sat right with Chen Ren. Not one of them mentioned the Devourers.

His instincts whispered that it had to be connected. After all, the golden dragon that lived within him—one that had been injured fighting the Devourers—had only recently stirred. And now, at the same time, a demonic cultivator had come for the medallion… the same medallion tied to the Gate of Immortals.

Coincidence? He didn’t think so. He leaned forward again, eyes narrowing and decided to ask the question he had to.

“Do you know anything about the Devourers?”

At Chen Ren’s question, Wang Jun tilted slightly, his brow furrowing as if he hadn’t understood.

“Devourers?” he echoed. “Is that some kind of beast?”

Chen Ren leaned forward, his expression sharpening. “You’ve never heard of them? Nothing at all? I thought they fought in this war you talked about.”

Wang Jun gave a jerky shake, which looked more like his body trying to twitch rather than an actual nod. “No. The records of the War of the Immortals are nearly nonexistent. Most theories say it was just cultivators fighting each other—sect wars on a divine scale. But there’s no proof, no names, no enemy known by that title. If the Devourers were part of it… I wouldn’t know.” He paused, then added, “The only reason I even know about soulsteel is because I saw it once. In a ruined clan estate long abandoned and buried under ash. That’s how I recognized the metal in your medallion.”

Chen Ren nodded slowly, trying to suppress the disappointment curling in his chest. He’d hoped for at least a hint, anything to tell him what those beings were. But this led to nothing.

And then Yalan, frowning, said what he had been thinking all along.

“Even with everything you’ve told us… it doesn’t explain who made the Gate of Immortals. Or its keys. It’s clearly manmade. Someone forged it.”

Wang Jun growled, his face twisting. “How should I know? It’s not like I was there watching them hammer the damn thing.” He let out a sharp breath before continuing, voice lower but more focused. “But what I do know is this. There are keys. Plural. Many of them. Each one is necessary. They must be brought together to unlock the gate. That much I’m certain of.”

He pointed—well, looked—at the medallion. “And the existence of that proves it.”

Chen Ren and Yalan exchanged a look.

That opened a flood of questions—questions they couldn’t hold back anymore. Where was the gate? Has anyone ever tried to gather the keys? What would happen if they were all brought together? How many were there? Did any sects or empires still hold them?

But by the time they ran out of breath, it became obvious.

Wang Jun’s knowledge was limited—frustratingly so.

And the more Chen Ren looked at him, the more he wondered if that knowledge had once been whole. Maybe Wang Jun had known more. Maybe, over time, through whatever rituals or madness had kept him alive, pieces of his memory had faded.

It was entirely plausible. After all, surviving for centuries as a disembodied head couldn’t have come without a cost.

In the end, Wang Jun just sighed, his voice rasping with impatience. “If you really want to know more… why don’t you just bind the damn medallion to yourself?”

His eyes locked onto Chen Ren as he spoke, as if daring him to back down.

Chen Ren raised a brow. “How?”

Wang Jun grumbled. “I would love to meet your clan’s patriarch. Sitting on a treasure like that and not knowing how to use it—what a waste.”

He shook his head, or tried to. “It’s simple. Cut your finger and drop some blood onto it. If it’s what I think it is, your qi will flow into it and bind it to you. At least, that’s how it should go. Some artifacts are soul-bound. But I doubt you want to cleave off a piece of your soul. We can try that if this doesn’t work.”

Chen Ren gave a dry laugh. “Let’s… hope it works with just blood.”

He glanced at Yalan, who gave him a firm nod. Her eyes, always sharp, held the same thought he’d been pushing down—It’s time. No more running from it.

With a slow breath, he pulled a small knife from his spatial ring and held it against his thumb.

And hesitated. Sigh.

He already had too much on his plate. From getting his pill production system stabilized so he could finally enter the immortal market, to testing his firearms against the winter beasts, to strengthening his sect before the Blazing Ember Sect inevitably came knocking for revenge—every path ahead of him was already lined with thorns.

Binding this medallion would only add to it all.

But that wasn’t the real reason he hesitated.

The real reason… was hope.

A sliver of him still hoped he wasn’t involved in something so much bigger. That maybe Gu Tian was wrong. That maybe the medallion wasn’t a key, and he was just some unlucky bystander caught in someone else’s war. But if the gate truly needed all the keys—then Chen Ren wasn’t a bystander.

He was one of them.

And Gu Tian hadn’t come for him by chance.

With a quiet breath, he pushed the knife forward, slicing a shallow line across his thumb. Blood welled up, bright and hot, and he let a drop fall onto the surface of the medallion.

For a long moment, nothing happened and hope built up that it was really just an ordinary medallion.Then—

A strange, almost electric sensation pulsed through his body. Not painful… but deep. As if something unseen had just threaded itself through his very core. Chen Ren’s eyes widened as he felt it.

Like a distant hum awakening inside of him. Like he was suddenly part of a whole. Chen Ren’s breath caught as the pulse of qi intensified—then, without warning, his vision swam.

The chamber vanished.

The walls, Wang Jun, Yalan and Anji—all dissolved into light, and in the next heartbeat, he was floating. Suspended in a sky that didn’t belong to any world he knew. Vast and endless, painted in shades of gold and gray, qi surged through the air like rivers of light, flowing around him in tidal waves of pressure and raw power.

It should’ve crushed him. It almost did. His spiritual sea buckled under the weight, his dantian screaming with the strain—but somehow, he held on and watched.

Before him floated a gate.

The Gate of Immortals.

Massive and ancient, towering higher than any mountain he had ever seen. Its surface shimmered with divine metal, runes glowing faintly along its outer frame. Qi curled around it in spirals, reverent and endless, as though the heavens themselves circled it in worship.

And then he saw them.

Engraved across the top of the gate were four majestic beasts.

A phoenix, wings half-spread in eternal flame.

A white tiger, muscles coiled, fangs bared in defiance.

A black turtle, calm and unmoving, its shell etched with mountains and rivers.

And at the center—looming, regal, unchallenged—The golden dragon.

Its body curled around the arch of the gate, coiled in celestial might, and as Chen Ren stared, breathless—Its eyes opened. Not a glow. Not an illusion. The dragon looked at him. Right at him, as if it was peeking into his soul.

And at that moment, Chen Ren understood.

Everything he had experienced so far—every conversation, every fight, every clue about the devourers, the medallion, the dragon inside him—Had only been the beginning.

***

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