Dao of Money

Chen Ren and Zi Wen moved through Goldspire City on foot, and he couldn’t help but stare.

The city was far more advanced than anything he had seen back in the Kalian Empire. Broad stone footpaths lined the roads, clearly meant for pedestrians, while the center lanes were filled with rickshaws gliding smoothly without any beasts pulling them. Chen Ren guessed they were powered by spirit stones or some kind of condensed qi fuel. There were even fixed tracks laid into the streets, allowing large tramps to move dozens of people at once with mechanical precision.

Shops lined both sides of the road in neat rows—apothecaries, weapon stalls, inns, workshops, and places he couldn’t even identify at a glance. Everything felt planned, deliberate, alive. Even the NPCs didn’t feel like background decorations. They talked among themselves, argued over prices, laughed, scolded children, and occasionally glanced at Chen Ren and Zi Wen with curiosity, clearly recognizing them as foreigners.

As they walked, Zi Wen spoke casually looking at him.

“I got through the first two floors pretty fast,” he said. “But the third one took time. Little Yuze got attacked by a wolf pack and wanted revenge, so we stayed behind to wipe them out.”

Chen Ren raised an eyebrow, listening.

“He ended up finding an orb in their cave,” Zi Wen continued. “Fire-aspected. He swallowed it and cultivation shifted after that. It helped a lot on the fourth floor—kept both of us warm. Even Whiskey benefited.”

Chen Ren smiled faintly. “How’s Whiskey doing?”

Zi Wen chuckled. “Well-fed. Too well-fed. He ran around the city yesterday stealing street food. Guards caught him, so I had to pay for it.”

Chen Ren shook his head, already picturing the scene.

“Oh, and Anji and the twins are with me too,” Zi Wen added. “Not sure where Yalan is, though. I did talked to Princess Yanyue and her guards in the city earlier.”

Chen Ren hummed in response, eyes still roaming over Goldspire’s streets, already calculating possibilities.

“And how are they?” Chen Ren asked as they turned down another street.

Zi Wen shrugged. “The princess looked fine. But she didn’t find the book she was searching for. None of us did, actually. She was asking about you, too. She’s been keeping an eye on your rankings.”

Chen Ren’s steps faltered for just a moment. He pulled up the rankings instinctively, and his eyes narrowed when he saw his name sitting at sixth place.

[Chen Ren - Rank 6.]

The artificer blueprints and reaching the fifth floor—Both had pushed his rank up again.

It wasn’t good news.

“I’ll go meet her after I’m done setting a foundation in the city,” Chen Ren said, closing the display. “Or she will come find me.”

Zi Wen frowned. “I still don’t know what you mean by that. When I first came here, the guard captain—”

“—told you that you can’t run a business in the city unless you’re a resident,” Chen Ren finished calmly.

Zi Wen nodded. “Exactly. And I don’t even know if there’s a way to become one.”

“There’s no need,” Chen Ren replied. “We just need a resident to work for us.”

Zi Wen blinked. “What?”

“You’ll see,” Chen Ren said, a faint smile forming. “I got a lot of information from a merchant in the arena.”

He picked up his pace after that, stopping once to ask for directions before turning into narrower, curved streets that clearly led away from the main districts. Zi Wen followed, clearly confused but smart enough not to interrupt.

As they neared their destination, Chen Ren suddenly slowed.

A group of guards was moving through the street ahead of them, dragging several cultivators along in chains. The men were barely clothed, their heads lowered, faces drawn tight with shame and exhaustion as the chains scraped against the stone road.

Chen Ren paused, watching the chained cultivators being dragged through the street.

“They probably stole something,” he said calmly, “or tried to threaten locals using their clan or sect name.”

Zi Wen nodded. “I’ve heard of a lot of incidents like that.”

“It’s only going to happen more,” Chen Ren replied with a shrug. “Most cultivators love flaunting their backgrounds. They don’t understand that it doesn’t work here.”

“That’s true,” Zi Wen said. “I heard a group tried to bypass the city guards yesterday to reach the lift to the sixth floor. They didn’t want to pay the fee.”

Chen Ren didn’t need to ask what happened to them. He could already guess they were rotting in a cell somewhere. Still, one thing caught his attention.

“How much is the fee?” he asked.

Zi Wen scowled. “Twenty-five thousand tokens per person. It’s outright robbery. I barely managed to collect eight thousand tokens across the first four floors, and I did better than most.”

Chen Ren let out a wry grin. “The princess did warn us.”

Zi Wen looked at him. “But that doesn’t mean it’s fine, Sect Leader Chen. That’s a lot of tokens.”

“It is,” Chen Ren said easily. “But I believe we’ll make enough tokens for everyone.”

Zi Wen stared at him. “How?”

“Just wait and watch.”

They started moving again. Chen Ren led him down another wide street, then through a narrow alley before cutting into an adjacent road. When they emerged, he stopped and pointed ahead.

A sign hung above a well-kept storefront: Heavenly Sky General Store for all Cultivators.

“We’re going to buy this place,” Chen Ren said. After a beat, he added, “Or rather, enter a partnership.”

Zi Wen frowned as he looked at the shop. “I don’t doubt you, Sect Leader Chen,” he said slowly, “but doesn’t this look like a business that’s already doing extremely well?”

Chen Ren silently agreed with Zi Wen’s doubt. From the outside, the shop looked prosperous—almost excessively so. Wide glass windows lined the front, polished until they reflected the street like still water. Shelves inside were arranged neatly, visible even from outside, each stocked just enough to look abundant without seeming cluttered. The signboard above was freshly lacquered, the gold lettering sharp and unchipped, and the doors themselves were reinforced spirit-wood, the kind that cost more than most small shops earned in a month. Compared to the neighbouring stores—with their faded banners, cramped interiors, and shouting clerks—this place looked like a flagship establishment.

But it was just a perfect illusion.

Chen Ren stepped forward and pushed the door open. A clear chime rang out, pleasant and inviting. Zi Wen followed a step behind, his gaze flicking around cautiously.

Behind the counter stood a man with a round, pot-bellied figure and a permanently cheerful expression, as if his smile had been carved into his face. His robes were clean, his hair neatly tied, and his eyes sharp despite the friendliness he projected.

“Welcome!” the man said brightly. “You two look like the newest batch of climbers entering the city. You’ve come to the right place. My store has everything a cultivator might need to advance to higher realms.”

Chen Ren walked straight up to the counter, resting his hands lightly on its surface. “Are you the owner?”

The man puffed up slightly. “Of course. My name’s Du Rensheng. Most resourceful merchant in Goldspire City. If anything exists, I can get it for you.”

Chen Ren smiled. “What if I want your shop?”

Du Rensheng’s smile faltered for half a heartbeat before he forced it back into place. “Ah… that’s not funny, friend. The shop isn’t for sale. I’ve poured my life into this place. There’s no way I would—”

“Aren’t you,” Chen Ren interrupted gently, “the one who’s been moving between floors lately, trying to sell this shop off quietly?”

This text was taken from NovelFire. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Du Rensheng stiffened.

“You lost your long-term supply contracts,” Chen Ren continued. “Can’t restock properly anymore. The other merchants on this street don’t deal with you because you burned bridges when business was good. Now you’re smiling, waiting for a buyer who doesn’t know the situation, hoping to sell this place and retire somewhere quiet.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Am I wrong?”

***

Du Rensheng felt the practiced smile slide off his face as the man across the counter spoke.

Each sentence landed too cleanly, too precisely, peeling away things that were never meant to leave the market’s inner circles. Contracts lost. Suppliers cutting him off. Quiet visits to other floors, hat in hand, asking if anyone would buy him out so he could disappear with what dignity he had left.

How did this outsider know?

The merchants of Goldspire City were a tight knot of vipers. They lied, cheated, undercut—and kept their mouths shut. None of them would gossip to a foreign cultivator, especially not one who clearly didn’t look rich on the surface. And if he were a native, Du Rensheng would have known his face. He knew all the wealthy locals. He had made it his business to do so.

His thoughts raced. Who told him? And more importantly… Does he actually have the tokens to buy my shop?

Realising he had gone silent for too long, Du Rensheng cleared his throat and forced the smile back into place, though it felt brittle now.

“I don’t know where you heard such rumours,” he said carefully, “but anyone interested in owning my shop would need to pay a significant amount. Foreigners rarely have the capital to—”

He didn’t get to finish.

“You want a hundred thousand tokens,” the man said casually, as if reciting a market price for grain. “That’s what you asked the others. They didn’t agree because your stock is old, your supply lines are gone, and demand has plateaued. The city’s been stable for years.”

Du Rensheng froze.

That wasn’t a guess. It couldn’t be. It was exact—down to the number he had quoted in private rooms.

The man’s eyes went to the shelf on the right where several pill vials sat beneath warm lantern light. They gleamed, glass polished to perfection, labels freshly repainted. He had gone to great lengths to make them look untouched.

“I’m guessing those pills are past their prime,” he said mildly. “Potency degradation, maybe subtle, but enough that an experienced cultivator would feel it.”

Du Rensheng’s stomach sank.

How does he know? he thought wildly. I sealed them well. Repainted the vials. Even refreshed the markings.

He felt like cursing, but he knew better than to let the man in front of him win so easily. He ran a hand through his growing beard, scratching at it the way he always did when his nerves were stretched thin, and finally spoke.

“What are you trying to do here?” he asked.

The man replied at once. “My name is Chen Ren. This is Zi Wen,” he said, gesturing calmly to the man beside him. “A subordinate. I believe I’ve already made my intentions clear. I want your shop.”

Du Rensheng snorted. “And do you even have the money for it?”

“No,” Chen Ren replied without embarrassment. “But your shop is overpriced in the first place. Most of the stock is old, and it isn’t selling anyway.”

“You don’t know that,” Du snapped.

Chen Ren tilted his head slightly. “We’ve been standing here for over ten minutes. It’s afternoon, yet not a single customer has walked in. The street outside isn’t deserted either.”

He pointed casually toward the window, where the road was still bustling with foot traffic.

Du Rensheng’s frown deepened. The man’s words struck uncomfortably close to the truth. Chen Ren had a way of dismantling every excuse he reached for, and worse, he did it with a calm, all knowing voice. It was infuriating.

Still, Du Rensheng straightened his back. No matter how sharp this young cultivator was, he had spent decades in trade. Experience counted for something.

“You’ve insulted my shop enough,” he said stiffly. “Even if it’s overpriced, can you pay even half of what I’m asking?”

Chen Ren smiled. “No, I can’t.”

“Then why are you even here?” Du Rensheng demanded.

“Because,” Chen Ren said evenly, “I have a way to turn this into the best shop in the city.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So now you want to work for me? That’s a strange attitude for someone seeking employment.”

Chen Ren shook his head calmly. “No,” he said. “I’m not trying to work for you. I’m proposing a partnership.”

Du Rensheng’s brows drew together as Chen Ren continued evenly, “I’m offering ten thousand tokens up front, and forty thousand more paid in installments over the next two months. Once the first payment is made, I want full operational control of the shop. You’ll remain as the manager, and a co-owner.”

He stared at him, disbelief creeping into his expression. “You don’t think this shop is worth more than that?”

“I don’t,” Chen Ren replied without hesitation.

“And how exactly do you plan on paying the remaining forty thousand?” he asked. “Foreigners rarely earn that much before they burn themselves out or die. Most of them don’t even last a month.”

“By turning this place into the best shop in the city. I already told you,” Chen Ren said simply. “Once that happens, tokens will flow in. You’ll get your share, and once the installments are finished, you can stay on with a proper salary if you want.”

To Du Rensheng, every word sounded like an idealistic fantasy—one that would cost him both his shop and his remaining savings. Every instinct told him to throw the man out immediately. And yet…

The light in Chen Ren’s eyes made him hesitate.

After a moment, he exhaled and asked, “And how do you plan to do that? The market here has been stable for decades. You said it yourself. Unless you have a product that can shake the entire city, what you’re suggesting is impossible.”

“The market is going to shake soon whether I act or not,” Chen Ren replied. “Where do you think all the climbers entering the fifth floor are going to spend their tokens?”

“They want to move up,” Du shot back. “Not linger here. And most of them don’t even have that many tokens.”

“They will,” Chen Ren said. “And there are a lot of them.”

He paused, then added, “As for the product, why don’t I show you what I have planned?”

As he spoke, Chen Ren extended his hand.

Du’s eyes locked onto the object that he wore on his fingers, and for the first time since the conversation began, his breath caught.

A spatial ring.

Chen Ren smiled faintly. “Why don’t you close the shop for a bit?” he said. “I’d rather not be disturbed while I show you everything I have accumulated.”

***

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