Dao of Money

The rounds moved by pretty fast.

After the first two rounds, Chen Ren felt that they had grown steadily harder and far more specific. From making pills using limited ingredients to identifying and replicating one based only on taste, the trials had quickly separated the seasoned from the lucky.

One by one, alchemists stumbled. Some failed due to timing. Others burned their mixtures or produced unstable pills. Every round, more and more contestants were eliminated, their hopes dashed amid the rising pressure. And as the numbers dwindled, the cheers from the audience only grew louder—more frantic, more invested.

Chen Ren moved through them all.

He owed much of it to Wang Jun and Yalan. Without their guidance, the more obscure tests would’ve taken him by surprise. But the beauty of it was—no one suspected a thing. Not with the soul techniques they used. Unless someone was a soul cultivator themselves, it was nearly impossible to detect the kind of mental link they shared.

So he advanced while others fell.

Now, as the sun dipped low, the announcer stepped forward one last time. His voice, bolstered, echoed across the square.

“After so many rounds,” he declared, sweeping his gaze over the remaining contestants, “only five alchemists remain!”

A wave of applause rippled through the stands.

“Five!” he repeated, holding up his hand. “Out of the dozens who entered this year’s trials—only five have proven their worth. Five who passed every test, and now stand as the finest young alchemists of Broken Ridge City, perhaps even worthy of recognition beyond our borders!”

He paused for effect, then continued.

“As always, we have the favorites. From the prestigious Darkmoon Sect, we have the defending champion, Ningkai, who has broken through each round with effortless grace.”

A loud roar of approval came from one corner, clearly the Darkmoon supporters.

“Right behind him,” the announcer said with a grin, “is Yeqing, also of the Darkmoon Sect praised for his precision and subtlety. It’s his first time in the trials, but he had proven his worth.”

More applause followed.

“Then, we have a rogue alchemist, Anming. No background, no faction… but after today, I doubt he’ll be left without offers.”

The man standing alone gave a stiff nod, arms crossed.

“And finally,” the announcer said, turning to the last two, “disciples of a new and Emerging sect. One, a familiar face, Tau Liu—a finalist in last year’s trials, now wearing the robes of the Divine Coin Sect.”

Tau Liu simply bowed.

A cheer went up as the announcer paused, the crowd erupting with applause—not just for Tau Liu, but for every name he had called. Each finalist had earned it, and the arena echoed with the weight of expectation.

Then, with a flourish, the announcer raised his hand and pointed straight at Chen Ren.

“And last—but certainly not least—we have a man no one knew at the start of these trials,” he said, his voice rising with drama, “but who now stands as a favorite to win it all.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

“Chen Ren, the sect leader of the Divine Coin Sect. The man who finished the earlier rounds the fastest, who stunned the judges with a seventy percent purity pill, and who now faces the final challenge.”

More cheering—raucous, deafening spread across the square.

“Now,” the announcer continued, “we will witness whether he can truly contend with the finest alchemists our city has to offer.” He took a slow breath, letting silence hang before delivering the twist. “For the final round, our alchemists will be challenged to do what few dare attempt: to create a pill of their own design. An original recipe, never seen before. A product of their knowledge, creativity, and skill.

“But. Due to the private nature of such recipes and formulas, the process will not be visible to the public. We cannot ask them to reveal the inner workings of a unique pill before it is judged. So, the final round will take place in personal workshops, built specifically for this purpose.”

As he finished speaking, a surge of qi burst from his ring—a wave so strong it ruffled clothes and hair across the front rows. The ground began to rumble, drawing gasps from the crowd.

Chen Ren wondered what was about to happen as he heard the grinding roar. He didn’t have to wait long as five stone structures erupted from the arena floor. They were all shaped like small pavilions or houses, complete with a gate and reinforced pillars. Arrays shimmered faintly across their surfaces. They were to not let anyone try to spy on the alchemists.

Huh? Were they hidden underground till now? Chen Ren didn’t know how but it created a good spectacle as the crowd clapped and shouted at the display.

“We will now give our alchemists a short period to rest and recover. Gather your thoughts, steady your minds—for the next round will decide who shall be crowned champion of this year’s alchemy trials!”

A short break… Chen Ren let out a quiet breath of relief as he stared at the announcer who got off the stage.

Even with the advantages he had, alchemy was draining. It required mental focus, spiritual clarity, and fine qi control—none of which came without cost. He could feel the ache in his core and the subtle fraying at the edges of his qi.

The ground was emptier now with only the five of them remaining. The two Darkmoon Sect disciples—Ningkai and Yeqing—stood close, whispering low but sparing no effort in sending glares in his direction.

Chen Ren ignored them.

He sat down cross-legged right where he stood, letting the noise fade into the background. He didn’t bother looking back as a presence approached and settled nearby, likely Tau Liu.

He closed his eyes.

And instead of reaching inward toward the star space, Chen Ren reached outward. He pulled qi from the air, from the natural flow of qi that surrounded the arena. It was slower, less efficient, but with his focus, he managed to do what he wanted in the traditional way. A method meant not just to refill qi, but to ground the mind and steady the spirit.

Chen Ren didn’t want to touch the star space just yet.

He had a suspicion—faint but growing—that whatever had happened to him on the road to Broken Ridge City… the moment he blacked out and awoke hours later… had been due to his explosive growth. His qi had been stable since then. He hadn’t drawn heavily on his reserves until now, and he had been fine. Though, the competition had drained nearly half of what was there.

So he breathed.

In and out. Slowly pulling in more qi, feeling it settle into his meridians. It wouldn’t be enough to fully replenish him—not even close—but even a ten percent boost could make a difference.

Especially in the final round. The final round where he was about to make a pill that Wang Jun had shown him was simple in structure, deceptively so, because it required specific input and constant output. But a single misstep could still ruin it.

And he wasn’t going to let that happen.

He shifted slightly, feeling the qi pool deeper in his dantian when—“Wang Jun said he won’t be able to help you in the last round.”

Yalan. Chen Ren opened his eyes and looked in the direction they were sitting.

“I guessed as much, The array around the stone structures.”

“It’s a divination array. Designed to stop anyone from peeking inside—whether with spiritual sense, qi threads, or soul sight. It might or might not catch onto the soul link between us. Better not to risk it.” She paused, then added with a bit of dry amusement, “Besides, you’d be distracted trying to explain what you’re doing the entire time. We won’t be able to see anything anyway.”

Chen Ren nodded to himself. “That’s okay,” he replied. “I believe I can do it on my own. You two have helped me enough.”

There was a short pause, then Yalan’s voice softened.

“Good. Then good luck.”

Just as her words faded, movement returned to the arena. Chen Ren turned toward the central platform as the announcer stepped back up onto the stage, now flanked by a pair of guards.

The crowd was beginning to reassemble—people returning to their seats, murmuring and finishing snacks from the stalls scattered around the outer plaza. Excitement rippled through them, the energy building again like a tide coming back in.

The announcer raised both hands, his voice echoing once more across the grounds.

“My dear people of Broken Ridge City!” he called out. “Thank you for your patience. The final round of the alchemy trials will now begin!”

A fresh round of cheers followed, though there was an undercurrent of curiosity—maybe even disappointment—at the fact they wouldn’t get to watch.

“Due to the nature of this round, you will not be able to witness the process.” He gestured toward the five stone workshops that stood tall like miniature fortresses. “But rest assured, the results will be well worth it.”

Then he turned to the five remaining alchemists, his tone shifting to something more official.

“You will each have thirty minutes to create your pill and return. If you fail to come out within the allotted time, you will be disqualified and will not be able to present your work to the final judge of the trials—City Lord Bai Huiqin.”

Chen Ren’s gaze lifted to the VIP stands where the City Lord sat. He was surrounded by even more important people, but he ignored them briefly to look at the announcer again.

“Are you all ready?” the announcer asked.

There was no reply—only quiet determination.

One by one, the five alchemists rose from where they had been sitting. Ningkai and Yeqing walked together. The rogue cultivator muttered something under his breath before limping toward his assigned door. And from his side, Tau Liu moved.

Chen Ren walked without hesitation, eyes locked on the stone chamber directly in front of him. He pushed the gate open and stepped inside.

Coincidentally, the spy—Yeqing—chose the chamber right next to Chen Ren’s.

As he passed, he slowed just enough to shoot him a venomous glare. “You’re going to be humiliated,” he spat, voice low enough for only Chen Ren to hear. “Losing to me, of all people.”

Chen Ren scoffed, unable to hide his smirk. “I don’t think so. You seem to have a knack for being humiliated. Not me.”

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Yeqing’s face twisted into a snarl, but by then, Chen Ren was already moving through the gate, uninterested in continuing the exchange.

The stone door slammed shut behind him with a low thud, sealing the chamber entirely. Chen Ren paused and looked around.

Impressive.

The room was spacious—well-lit by softly glowing spirit lamps embedded in the walls. The entire chamber was circular, with inscriptions faintly etched into the floor and walls—likely suppression and containment arrays, useful for minimizing any alchemical accidents.

At the center of the room was a solid stone workbench, complete with a cauldron already primed and warmed. Along the walls were stacks upon stacks of herbs, each organized by type and category. Some were common—spirit grass, fireseed root, breath moss—but others…

Chen Ren stepped closer.

Some of these, he didn’t even recognize at a glance. Clearly, they were rare. Even Earth grade plants, based on the way the qi shimmered off their leaves. And then, his eyes caught sight of the exact herbs he needed, of course, not in the exact order he needed. But they were all here—every single one.

Was it a coincidence?

He doubted they’d tailored the chamber to his pill specifically. No one should’ve known what he was going to make. More likely, the organizers had provided every possible ingredient under the heavens they could gather, so no alchemist would be forced to request something mid-trial—and no one could deduce their recipe from what was missing.

It was smart and politically neutral. The City Lord was clearly trying hard to not upset anyone. Not because of the alchemists themselves, perhaps, but because of the factions behind them.

Chen Ren stepped to the table, brushing his fingers across the edge of the cauldron, then reached for the herbs he needed. He muttered to himself, “Time to get to work.”

With practiced hands, he turned on the flame beneath the cauldron, adjusting it to the precise heat needed for the first stage. The qi-infused fire sparked to life with a low hiss.

He moved around the cauldron to lay out the ingredients. He measured them and set aside in the exact order he would use them.

He thought again on how this would win him the trials, all thanks to Wang Jun. The head had spent the last week teaching him, and he, in return, had obsessed over it, memorizing every ingredient, timing fluctuations in the flame and calculating the perfect qi output.

It was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Complex, yes, but refined and elegant. The kind of pill that was so rare that it wouldn’t be found in any manuals today.

Wang Jun really did have many tricks up his sleeve, Chen Ren thought, setting the first herb into the cauldron and watching it dissolve into essence.

And if he wanted to get more of those tricks out of him… Chen Ren smirked faintly to himself. I’d probably need to treat him a little better.

He knew he’d neglected Wang Jun after coming to the city.

In the rush of setting up shop, training others, dealing with spies, and preparing for any retribution from the Darkmoon Sect, he’d taken that silent, ever-grumbling old soul for granted. But now, with the finish line in sight, he made himself a promise: once this was over, he’d change that. Wang Jun had earned better.

With that thought sealed away, Chen Ren turned his full focus to the task at hand.

He began with the base ingredients—the foundation of the pill—dropping them one by one into the cauldron. As they settled, he guided his qi into the brew, gently coaxing out the essence from each root and flower. A soft sizzle followed, then a low hum as the mixture began to heat on its own.

The temperature spiked fast. Chen Ren wiped sweat from his brow, but kept his hands steady. The next part was the most dangerous.

Mixing Dragonspine Powder with Moonshade Nectar. Individually, they were potent. Together? Volatile.

The moment the two met in the cauldron, a sharp crack rang out, like bones snapping in flame. Instantly, Chen Ren created a bubble of qi around the mixture, containing the eruption as a wave of heat surged upward. The cauldron groaned in protest.

His barrier flickered under the strain, and despite his control, some of the heat still escaped, scorching the air around him. The ends of his hair curled slightly from the sudden blast, the scent of burnt strands mixing with the acrid aroma of herbs.

Fuck, but it’s okay. he thought. That was the hardest part.

He continued adding powdered earthroot, shredded silver, and essence-washed lotus seed. Every ingredient that went in altered the hue of the bubbling mass, turning it from amber to gold to a deep, rich crimson.

This pill wasn’t cheap.

Over the past week, Chen Ren had poured nearly all of his day profits from the Divine Coin shop into buying ingredients for it. Some from merchants, others from rogue gatherers, all under the table. It had cost him a small fortune. But standing here now, he knew it was worth it.

Just getting into the finals has already repaid the cost, he thought. And if I win…

He didn’t finish the thought.

Minutes ticked by, marked only by the flicker of flame and the swirl of vapor rising from the cauldron. The heat grew unbearable, clinging to his robes, his skin, even his bones. But still, Chen Ren stayed rooted in place, his eyes never leaving the mixture.

And then it happened. The color shifted. From crimson… to a soft, glowing pink.

He exhaled. Perfect.

This was the sign. The exact moment he’d prepared for.

Time for the final step.

Maintaining the flow of qi with one hand, he raised the other, summoning a flicker of lightning at his fingertips. The static crawled across his skin, converging at the tip of his thumb. With a sharp hiss, he forced it to spark and burst the skin open.

Blood welled at once, glimmering faintly with qi.

Without hesitation, Chen Ren thrust the bleeding thumb over the cauldron and let the blood fall. It hit the surface of the mixture like a drop of oil on fire.

A simmer followed, not explosive this time, but deep and resonant. The reaction began to settle. The mix was stabilizing.

All that was left… was the final battle. The last, most delicate part of the process. Chen Ren closed his eyes for a breath, his qi swirling around him like an invisible current.

One last round. And then it’s done.

***

Yeqing stared into his cauldron, a maniacal grin etched across his face.

The ingredients within swirled violently, qi-infused herbs dissolving in sequence in high heat and exceptional rhythm. From time to time, he funneled his own qi into the mix, feeding the reaction with short bursts, just the the way he had practiced under strict instructions. A faint glow radiated from the simmering brew, and even through the veil of steam, he could see the pill beginning to take shape.

An Earth-grade pill.

His eyes gleamed with triumph.

With this, I’ll win. I’ll win and watch that smug bastard Chen Ren fall flat on his arrogant face.

He still couldn’t believe that fool had made it this far. What twist of fate had allowed him—a nobody from a new sect—to not only survive but thrive all the way to the final round?

It didn’t matter. Because now, he would lose.

Yeqing would make sure of that.

Let’s see how he likes being humiliated in front of an entire city, he thought, lips curling.

The only reason he’d even been allowed into the trials this year was Elder Tiefang mercy—a final chance, one last slot begrudgingly handed to him after the failure and ridicule. Normally, all three trial spots were locked down by the outer elder’s prized disciples. Nepotism, he’d once scoffed.

Now? He welcomed it.

For someone who preached fairness, Elder Tiefangsure loved playing favorites when it suited him, he thought with a twisted chuckle.

But it was fine. Because this time, the story would change. Once he won the trials with this Earth-grade pill—a custom creation handed down from the Sect Leader himself—everything would fall into place.

He’d demand his reward, reclaim the pill that was stolen from him, step into Foundation Establishment and maybe, maybe he’d finally be able to be recognized as a core elder disciple.

Even the thought made him feel giddy all over.

The imagination of not having any more snide remarks, or pity or being ‘that guy’ everyone ignored made him grin.

Maybe even the Sect Leader would take me in directly, he thought, hunger in his eyes. He hates the Divine Pill Apothecary anyway. If I beat Chen Ren here, I can ask for that favor. With that backing…

Years of wandering without a master, of being left behind, of standing on the sidelines—finally, it would all pay off.

He simply had to successfully make the Earth-grade pill. Because this pill wasn’t just strong—it was also extremely rare. The kind of pill no back-alley alchemist could hope to understand, let alone replicate. Chen Ren might be good with modifying pills or making shit ton of basic pills, but this was something else.

He would win. Afterall, he had the shadow of a peak meridian expansion realm cultivator behind him. And that was more than Chen Ren could ever hope for.

The cauldron let out a soft hum, followed by a gentle simmer of qi rising from within—a delicate pulse, like a heartbeat. Yeqing’s grin widened.

The pill was ready.

***

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