Dao of Money

Chen Ren had no idea why someone connected to City Lord Li Baolong or he himself would suddenly show up in Meadow Village.

For a second, he thought it might be Li Xuan, but he dismissed that almost instantly. Li Xuan wouldn’t return now, not with how hard the Soaring Sword Sect would be working its disciples after the rising. And Li Xuan definitely wouldn’t ride in with a grand carriage and an entourage. That wasn’t his style at all.

So who was it then? Li Baolong himself? Coming to praise the village for surviving the beast rising? Or for some other reason? Was he going to cause trouble?

His thoughts ran in useless circles, ideas piling up faster than he could sort them, and then he froze as reality caught up to him: He was still naked under a towel.

If someone important really was arriving, the last thing he needed was to greet them smelling like beast blood and medicated bath water, wrapped in a towel like a half-dead rogue cultivator dragged out of a swamp.

“Zi Wen,” he said, using a bit of his qi to dry his hair in a hurry. “Go see who’s coming. Tell the others to stay inside and inform Chief Muyang.”

He nodded and dashed off.

Chen Ren hurried to clean himself properly as he went inside the bathhouse in the sect. A short rinse wouldn’t cut it; the smell of beast blood bath clung to his skin like it had moved in permanently. He scrubbed faster, changed into a clean robe, and immediately reached for a bottle of perfume.

He didn’t even think twice—he grabbed the strongest scent he had on hand and sprayed.

Better to smell like an over-enthusiastic flower field than like rotting beast marrow. He didn’t want an important person to be disgusted by his smell that would cast him in a dark light.

As he finished tying the belt of a fresh pair of robes, his stomach growled loud enough that even he paused and glared at himself. He had planned to eat first… but whoever was in that carriage would be here soon, and he couldn’t exactly greet them with food crumbs on his robes.

Food could wait. Impressions, unfortunately, couldn’t.

Chen Ren treated nobles the same way he treated government officers back on Earth—if they liked you, your life and business flowed smoother; if they didn’t, paperwork and problems started falling from the sky. So after drowning himself more in enough perfume to smell like a sheltered young miss preparing for her debut banquet, he finally stepped outside the sect building.

Everyone was already gathered.

Qing He stood with her arms lightly folded, expression curious and a little amused. Chief Muyang looked pale, wiping sweat from his forehead and shooting Chen Ren nervous glances like the heavens themselves were about to audit the village. Yalan sat on a stone with her tail swaying, bored but alert. Zi Wen stood near her. Tang Xiulan was also there and she hurried towards him.

“Do you know what’s going on?” she asked.

“Someone important is coming,” Chen Ren replied, adjusting his collar. “Sori saw a noble carriage with City Lord Li Baolong’s crest.”

Tang Xiulan blinked. “Why would he come here?” She leaned forward, sniffed, and her face twisted. “And why… Do you smell like my perfume? And why is there so much of it?”

Chen Ren opened his mouth, immediately regretted every decision made in the last ten minutes, and muttered, “I don’t know why they’re here. And I will tell you—”

He paused.

He saw movement by the sect’s entrance. A familiar figure approached them, robes neat, back straight and expression composed. Chen Ren frowned seeing who it was.

Scholar Haoran.

The man they had quietly marked as a spy and watched. The man Zi Wen reported on weekly. The one they had seen sneak around, subtly asking questions, pretending to be harmless but sending letters written in disappearing ink that burned the moment anyone else tried to read them. The spy that had been in the village since the first wave of refugees.

The letters he sent were presumably enchanted by some kind of artifact, since the man was clearly a mortal. That made it easy to guess that he was working for a cultivator. Chen Ren had thought often about dragging him into a room to interrogate him properly, but spies in this world almost always hid poison under their tongue. One wrong move and he’d choke on foam before a single answer came out. Chen Ren knew that if one spy died, whoever had sent him would just send more, so he had chosen to keep Haoran under quiet observation instead.

But why was the man here now?

There was no reason for him to suddenly show up at the sect. Yet here he was. After walking through the entrance he stopped a few feet away and clutched his hands behind him as if waiting for someone he respected. He even dipped his head politely when Chen Ren and the others looked at him. Zi Wen, who had been keeping an eye on him for months, stared at him with an incredulous expression.

A faint, uneasy feeling crawled through Chen Ren’s chest.

He told Tang Xiulan, “I’ll explain everything later,” then stepped forward. Haoran, who saw Chen Ren walking toward him and bowed slightly before looking up with a frown on his face.

“Sect Leader Chen Ren, you… smell good.”

Chen Ren blinked, then frowned back. “Scholar Haoran, why are you here, if I may ask?”

Haoran’s polite face flickered. For a heartbeat, he looked like someone deciding whether to hide or confess. Then he sighed, soft and resigned.

“I received communication a few days ago from the one I serve. She informed me she would be arriving around this time. So, naturally, I came to welcome her.”

Chen Ren stared at him, confusion stacking up like bricks on his head.

“…The one you are spying on us for?”

Haoran actually smiled—small, neat, infuriatingly calm—and nodded without shame.

“I suspected as much. My reports never received responses. This recent communication confirmed my suspicion. I must say, Sect Leader Chen, your sect has very capable people. I truly wonder when I made a mistake to be found out so early.”

Chen Ren stared, unsure what to say. The man had just admitted he was a spy. Was he serving someone from City Lord Li Baolong’s household or Li Baolong himself? Haoran had certainly sent reports toward Cloud Mist City, yes, but why be so open about it now? The only answer that made sense that he was sure no one here would dare touch him.

A dull headache pressed behind Chen Ren’s eyes, but he calmed himself down. Answers would arrive soon enough.

Suddenly, Sori swept down from the sky in an arc. Zi Wen lifted his arm, and the bird landed, chirping at him. Zi Wen stroked her chin, then glanced at Chen Ren.

“They’re coming,” he said.

Just then, Chen Ren heard wheels rumble over the village road. A moment later, three carriages rolled into view—broad frames, lacquered wood, polished fittings. Just by the look of them, it was clear that they belonged to nobles.

They stopped before the sect gates.

The first and third doors opened. Men and women in armor stepped down, weapons held low. He saw no crest of City Lord Li Baolong anywhere on there armours. But he could tell that they were strong. Even at a glance, their auras pressed out like heat from a forge—Most of them were peak qi refinement realm cultivators, and there were three whose presence sat heavier, beyond that realm.

Beside him, Haoran’s mouth eased into a small, satisfied smile. “She’s finally here,” he said.

Chen Ren didn’t answer Haoran. He kept his focus on the carriages.

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The cultivators lined up on both sides of the middle one, forming a neat corridor. One stepped forward, opened the door, and a familiar figure climbed out.

City Lord Li Baolong.

Chen Ren’s brows rose. So he had come personally. The man hadn’t changed since the last time Chen Ren had seen him. But after he stepped aside, he then lifted his hand in a polite gesture toward the carriage interior.

A slender, pale hand took his.

And then she stepped down.

Chen Ren’s thoughts stalled. It wasn’t because he’d recognized who it was, but because of how beautiful she looked.

He had often read in xianxia about female cultivators looking like fairies. He had read lines after lines about that sort of thing in his previous life… but seeing one in front of him was different.

The woman looked like she’d been carved by God personally, with careful planning. Smooth features, long black hair that caught the sunlight and gleamed, and skin so clear it almost glowed. Her big eyes held calm intelligence and the kind of confidence that made people instinctively look at them. Her robes were snow-white, trailing softly to the ground, but no dust clung to the fabric.

She simply looked like the personification of elegance.

And when her gaze lifted, the air around her seemed to pause out of respect. A quiet voice at Chen Ren’s shoulder cut through his stare.

“…What is she doing here?” Qing He muttered, sounding stunned.

Chen Ren blinked, then turned towards her. “You know who she is?”

Qing He looked at him like he had just asked what the sun was. “I forgot, you’ve never been to the capital. She is Princess Yanyue of the Kalian Empire.”

Suddenly, it felt like lightning ripped through the group.

Tang Xiulan’s jaw almost hit the floor. Zi Wen stiffened like someone had poured cold water down his back. Chief Muyang nearly keeled over on the spot. Even Yalan’s ears twitched, shock breaking through her usual calm.

A princess. Staring right at his sect’s gate. And Chen Ren smelled like he had bathed in perfume, hair still damp, robe slightly crooked.

Of course.

Of course this would happen today.

He looked around to see how only Haoran looked calm as he approached the princess.

He bowed to her in a practiced fashion like this was normal and not the most absurd scene to hit Meadow Village since, well… everything Chen Ren had ever done.

The princess lowered her gaze to acknowledge him. They exchanged a few whispers—quiet enough that Chen Ren couldn’t hear—but when Haoran lifted his head again, he pointed directly at Chen Ren and the group.

Chen Ren’s stomach tightened.

Why was a princess here? Was this about Blazing Ember Sect? Even then why was the princess here? They should’ve sent Inquisitors, not the princess herself. And if it wasn’t that, then the only other thing that made even slight sense was the golden dragon.

But how would she know? Had City Lord Li Baolong told her? And if that was the case, why spy on him for months instead of confronting him openly?

None of it lined up, and that bothered him more than her sudden appearance.

Qing He, standing beside him, gave a small sigh.

“Don’t overthink it,” she murmured. “Princess Yanyue always acts on her own whims. Even the emperor prefers to let her do as she pleases.”

Chen Ren huffed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I know I never asked much about your past, Senior Qing He, but just how big was your background to know the royal family personally?”

Qing He shrugged like it was nothing. “They hold a lot of banquets. I went when I was bored. You meet people. So I have my contacts.”

“…right.” Chen Ren nodded slowly. “Good to know. If she tries to kill me, please put in a good word first.”

Qing He snorted. “If she wanted you dead, Inquisitors would already be here. I don’t see a single one. Relax.” Then she nudged him forward. “Let’s go greet her. Try not to embarrass yourself.”

Chen Ren straightened his robe and stepped forward with Yalan pacing beside him. Qing He matched his steps. Tang Xiulan, Chief Muyang, and Zi Wen followed a step behind, faces pale and stiff, each wearing the expression of people who would rather be literally anywhere else.

Chen Ren inhaled slowly.

As soon as they were close enough, all of them bowed. Even Qing He inclined her head slightly—a gesture that surprised Chen Ren more than a little. Yalan, of course, didn’t bother. She maintained her lazy feline facade, tail flicking once in disinterest.

Chen Ren spoke first. “It is an honour to welcome Princess Yanyue and City Lord Li Baolong to the Divine Coin Sect.”

The others echoed similar greetings, voices tight with nerves. The princess’s voice was the first thing that hit him—calm, smooth, and carried with a melody that he had never heard before.

“Raise your heads.”

They obeyed instantly.

Her gaze moved over the group, assessing, weighing. Then she spoke again. “It seems one of you already knew we would be arriving.”

Her eyes landed on Zi Wen. Or rather, on Sori perched on his shoulder.

“A beast tamer,” she noted. “Rare. One of my guards noticed your bird circling our carriages several times. In the future, be more careful.”

Zi Wen’s face went a shade paler. “I understand. Thank you for your guidance.”

Li Baolong chuckled to soften the tension. “No need to be so stiff. Princess Yanyue is only here to talk. She has been curious about Chen Ren since reading about the tournament.”

The princess nodded slightly, eyes shifting to Chen Ren. “Yes. You are one of the most intriguing figures I have encountered in some time. Unfortunately, Haoran was discovered earlier than expected, so I received no reports from him. But I did hear things from Broken Ridge City.” Her lips curved faintly. “Very impressive.”

Chen Ren blinked. Nothing about this situation made sense, not even her compliment. He cut to the chase. “So… this is about the golden dragon that appeared at the tournament?”

“Partially,” she replied.

His brows pulled together. “Then what else?”

She didn’t hesitate. Her gaze sharpened as if she could peer straight through him and weigh the shape of his soul.

“Your dao,” she said. “If my sources are correct, you follow the Dao of Money.”

***

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