Dao of Money

Zi Wen crouched beneath a thick patch of bushes, his eyes locked on the clearing ahead. Several beasts circled a large tree, their wings rustling and sharp beaks snapping as they guarded something high in the branches. Striker beaks.

After months of following traces and clues, Zi Wen had finally found where their nestling grounds were. But he knew that finding them was the easy part. His real challenge was just beginning. Striker beaks weren’t easy to tame. In fact, they were notoriously aggressive, especially when grown. One wrong move, and they’d tear flesh like paper.

But Zi Wen hadn’t come unprepared.

He had spent weeks buried his head in the bestiaries that Sect Leader Chen had given him, reading through every note on avian-type beasts. From diet to territory to temperament, he had soaked up every information and built a plan keeping them in mind.

And in theory, he knew his plan would work.

“If you’re planning to tame one by feeding it, that’s the oldest trick in the book,” came a male voice beside him. “But these beasts are grown, you can see that. They would attack you. Doesn’t take a genius to know that.”

Zi Wen turned, his brows knitting at the sight of Hong Yi, crouching and looking like he’d rather do anything but be here. Zi Wen knew the man had no business being here. In fact, he had no idea why the cultivator kept leaving his workshop so often these days.

“You don’t know that,” Zi Wen shot back. “And I’m not feeding them just anything. This mix came straight from a recipe in the bestiary book. And it’s something they actually like… uhh,” he looked at him sideways, questioning. “Why are you even here anyway?”

“I don’t want to be here. Trust me, I just need to study some birds,” Hong Yi muttered under his breath.

“What for?” Zi Wen asked back. “I had a talk with Sect Leader Chen about puppets. He tossed out an idea, asking what if I made one that could fly? Normally, only meridian expansion realm puppets can do that if their materials are top-tier, but he said, why not base the structure off a bird instead? So, now I’m looking at birds.”

“Hmm. I could see that happening. You’re here, anyway. Do you know how birds fly?”

That made Hong Yi think. He went silent for a moment, and Zi Wen didn’t take his eyes off of the striker beaks.

“They flap their wings around and fly. That’s about it, I don’t know anything more. I always thought some beasts just used qi, but even ordinary birds fly. So it has to be something in their wings… right?”

Well, that answers my questions. Hong Yi might have knowledge on things related to his dao, but he should’ve probably done more research before coming down here. That thought itself made Zi Wen shake his head. He exhaled through his nose.

“Whatever, just let me do my work.”

With that, he slowly rose from his crouched position and pulled out a small pouch tied at his waist. He moved as quietly as possible and approached the tree, ignoring the sounds of leaves rustling overhead and the occasional warning cry from the beasts above.

He gave a brief glance behind to see if the puppet master was following him, but no, the man stayed back in the bushes, watching him closely.

Zi Wen didn’t stop until he was right beneath the massive tree. There, he reached into the pouch and scattered its contents onto the ground.

It was a recipe made mixed with dried herbs, fruits and crushed grain feed soaked in spirit water—all selected based on what the bestiary said the birds flavored.

Then, instead of retreating into cover, Zi Wen simply stepped back a few meters and stood in full view, keeping a respectful distance.

“What are you doing?” Hong Yi hissed from the bush, peeking over a low branch.

“They need to see I’m the one who left the food,” Zi Wen replied without turning. “They’re intelligent. If they don’t see me as a threat, they won’t attack.”

“And what if they do?”

“Then we run. I’m fighting beasts every day now. Some overgrown birds won’t do much to me.”

“We’ll see.” Hong Yi snorted under his breath.

They didn’t have to wait for long. One of the birds immediately noticed them. It gave a low, rumbling cry but didn’t alert the others. Instead, it flapped down from a thick branch and glided to the forest floor, talons clicking against the dirt.

It moved cautiously toward the pile of food.

Its gaze flicked between the offering and Zi Wen, who stood completely still, arms slightly raised to appear harmless. A quiet breeze stirred the trees as the beast’s feathers ruffled, the tension in the air thick as it paused at the edge of the feed.

Zi Wen held his breath.

The bird let out a low, sharp cry, its eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. For a moment, Zi Wen held still, just watching it, taking in the sight properly for the first time.

And what a sight it was.

The beast was magnificent, its feathers were a deep crimson, like fresh blood under the sun, with streaks of shiny silver running down its wings and tail like threads of molten metal. Its beak was curved and sharp, polished black, and its talons dug into the earth with a heavy authority that made it clear this was no simple avian. The wingspan was broader than most beasts Zi Wen had encountered, and its height nearly reached his chest. Larger than a hawk, leaner than an eagle—powerful, and clearly not done growing.

Striker beak. A rare avian-type spirit beast known for its aggressive nature and explosive aerial abilities. At full maturity, a striker beak could easily reach Tier 2, and judging by its size and the absence of the flame plumes adult ones grew along their crest, Zi Wen guessed this one was still a teenager.

That worked in his favor.

The younger ones were more curious. They were more open. More likely to be tamed—if you knew how. As he stood perfectly still, the striker lowered its head toward the scattered feed.

Zi Wen, heart hammering, screamed silently in his head: Eat it. Eat it.

The bird nudged the food with its beak once… then again. And then—finally—it took a bite. Zi Wen’s lips twitched into a cautious smile.

The striker didn’t recoil or spit it out. Instead, it pecked again. Then again. Larger, faster bites until the entire handful had vanished into its sharp beak.

When it lifted its head again, its golden eyes were fixed right on him.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” Zi Wen said softly, smiling now. “I’ve got more. Want some?”

The bird didn’t answer—of course it didn’t—but it didn’t fly away either, and Zi Wen took that as agreement.

Moving slowly, he reached into his pouch and pulled out another portion of the special feed. As he stepped forward, the striker tensed, wings twitching, but it didn’t retreat.

That alone was a victory.

He knelt and placed the food gently on the ground. The striker waited only a moment before strutting forward and digging in again, wings flapping lightly as if in approval.

Zi Wen couldn’t help but laugh under his breath. “I’ve got more with me, you know,” he murmured. “I’ll give it to you if you just let me touch you. Just for a moment. I won’t do anything. I just want to feel you.”

He extended one hand forward, fingers open, gaze calm.

This was the most critical step.

And whether this beast accepted or rejected him would determine everything that came next. Because it was one of the most crucial parts of beast bonding. Every book and manual Zi Wen had read made that clear—if a beast let you touch it willingly, even briefly, it meant something had shifted between the two of you. That a thread of trust had been formed. It wasn’t just about taming, but rather about acceptance. Alongside acceptance came recognition and bonding.

Zi Wen knew he was pushing it.

The bestiary he’d studied suggested that some beasts, like the striker beak, could be approached physically after a single feeding if done right. He’d followed everything down to the recipe, measured the distance, even kept his posture and breathing steady.

But despite all that, the bird didn’t move forward.

Instead, its sharp eyes flicked downward—toward the pouch hanging at Zi Wen’s waist.

Suddenly, its feathers bristled, body tensing. And then, with a piercing screech, it threw its beak skyward and let out a cry so loud it made Zi Wen take a step back instinctively.

Oh no.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Every other bird circling the tree turned toward him in an instant. Their shadows fell over the clearing like a wave. The one he had just fed shrieked again—and then lunged.

Fuck, this is bad. This is bad, the same thought became a mantra in his head as he barely dodged in time as the bird’s claws slashed right at his side, going straight for the pouch. The beast wasn’t bonding—it was robbing.

A crash sounded behind him as Hong Yi burst out of the bushes.

“I told you, idiot!”

“You can complain later!” Zi Wen shouted back, already pivoting on his heel. “Run!”

The forest exploded with the cries of birds, feathers whistling through the air as the entire flock launched into motion.

Zi Wen sprinted forward, darting between trees, his breathing was loud in his ears. Behind him, Hong Yi cursed and followed, keeping pace as the birds shrieked overhead. The one he had tried to bond with didn’t stop—it was flying just above the treetops, wings spreading wide as it let out a furious gust of wind.

The blast hit him like a hammer.

He stumbled, nearly smashing into a thick trunk. Leaves scattered everywhere.

Gritting his teeth, he twisted his body and regained balance just in time, barely managing to stay upright as more gusts followed, sharp and punishing.

“Where’s your bonding now?!” Hong Yi shouted.

“Shut up and keep running!”

And they did—straight toward the distant outline of the village.

“I should’ve brought my puppets!” Hong Yi cursed behind him as he ducked a low-flying bird. “At least they could’ve taken some of the hits!”

Instead, he yanked out a dagger, holding it up just in case one of the birds got too close. Zi Wen, meanwhile, was scooping up pebbles from the forest floor mid-sprint and flinging them backward at the screeching beasts.

Not that it helped.

If anything, it made them angrier.

The birds flapped harder, their cries rising as their wings cut through the air with sharper force. One dove low, its claws raking across Zi Wen’s shoulder. He grunted in pain but twisted, slamming his knee into its side and pushing a surge of qi into his legs to keep going.

His plan had worked at first. The bait. The feed. The calm approach.

But he hadn’t expected the entire flock to come down on him like this.

Still, there was hope. He could see it—the outline of the village palisade breaking through the treeline ahead.

The birds, fierce as they were, never followed anyone too close to human settlements. They kept to the wild. That was his last saving grace.

And thankfully, the birds seemed to know that too.

Just as he broke out from the trees and hit the open trail toward the village, their cries started to fade. He didn’t stop running until he crossed the outer path and collapsed onto a large flat boulder near the road.

That was too close. I’d have had to fight a flock if—

Hong Yi grunted loudly interrupting his thoughts as he slumped down beside him.

They weren’t physically exhausted—both had energy to spare—but mentally, they were wrecked. That tension of being chased by angry birds clung to their nerves like cold sweat.

Zi Wen looked up.

The birds were still there, hovering in the air above the treeline. The one he had fed hovered just a little lower than the others. It stared at him, sharp eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Then, with a powerful flap of its wings, it turned—and flew away with its flock.

Zi Wen exhaled. “Well,” he muttered, “that could’ve gone worse.”

Next to him, Hong Yi glared and let out an annoyed huff. “I told you. We nearly became bird feed.”

Zi Wen just shook his head with a grin. “Calm down. Nothing like that happened. That one bird was just a glutton—it wanted everything in my pouch. I didn’t expect that.”

“Oh, beasts want more food and can get aggressive over it?” Hong Yi muttered dryly. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“Whatever you say. I’m going to try again.” Zi Wen only chuckled.

Hong Yi blinked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Why?”

“I need an avian companion,” Zi Wen said, brushing dust from his robes. “Little Yuze is great, but he’s not built for air. Those birds can fly long distances—they’d be perfect for surveillance. Sect Leader Chen said we needed something like that.”

“He says a lot of things when he goes off on one of his monologues,” Hong Yi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “He’s probably giving one of them right now back in Broken Ridge City.”

Zi Wen smiled at that. “Who knows.”

He stretched his arms, cast one last glance toward the retreating sky silhouettes, and turned toward the village. “Either way, let’s go. It’s nearly lunch, and I need something to eat.”

Hong Yi groaned as he stood. “You owe me lunch. Bird chase surcharge.”

Zi Wen laughed. “Fine, fine. One meal. But next time you follow me into the wild, bring a puppet.”

“Next time, I’m staying in the workshop.”

They headed toward the village, dust trailing behind their footsteps.

***

Chen Ren stood in front of everyone who had worked day and night to bring their pill operations to life. Tang Boming, Anji, and even Hun Tianzhi were there, along with a mix of disciples and mortals brought in from the Divine Coin Sect. They’d been handling everything—from production and quality control to packaging and logistics. Some of them still had dust clinging to their sleeves, others fidgeted like they were about to run into battle.

It was the first day.

He could feel it—the hum of nervous energy, the excitement just under the surface. First days always felt like the start of something grand. And for them, it was. This was their official entry into the immortal market. Even Hun Tianzhi had stepped away from his research to be here, which Chen Ren deeply appreciated.

He took a breath, then spoke loud enough for all of them to hear.

“Everyone, it hasn’t been easy getting here,” he said. “We’ve pushed ourselves these past few weeks—producing pills, refining processes, distributing fliers, dealing with doubters… and now, we stand here, ready to open shop.”

He looked around at each of them, letting his gaze linger.

“This city already has its favorites. People who’ve been buying from the same sects for years. But that doesn’t mean there’s no room for us. We’re not just here to survive. We’re here to thrive. To show Broken Ridge that a new player can not only step into the market—but do it better.”

He let the words settle for a moment.

“I won’t make this speech any longer. You all know your tasks. You’ve worked hard, and I’m proud of you. I truly am.”

A small smile touched his lips.

“Let’s show them who we are.”

With that, he turned and pushed open the doors.

Cheers rose behind him. Hands clapped, voices called out in excitement, and Chen Ren let the moment sink in before walking calmly to the front counter. The sign above them gleamed in the morning light—Divine Pill Apothecary.

Now came the real test. Would their gamble on quality, flavor, and marketing pay off? He exhaled, folded his arms, and waited.

Let the customers come.

***

A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon. Annual subscription is now on too. Also this is Volume 2 last chapter.

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