Dao of Money

As it turned out, Young Miss Niao was far more interested in Chen Ren than he had initially expected.

Perhaps it was because she finally had someone new to talk to besides her maid. Or perhaps it was because of his unique status as a climber—someone who had come from outside the pagoda. Whatever the reason, the girl seemed endlessly curious.

She kept asking questions.

And once she began, she did not stop easily.

Whenever Chen Ren gave an answer, she would immediately lean forward and ask a follow up question about it. One question led to another, and another after that, until what should have been a simple two-minute explanation somehow stretched into half an hour of storytelling.

At one point, Chen Ren found himself explaining how merchants bargained with sects. In another, he described how flying ships were a thing in the Kalian Empire. Each topic fascinated her, and every answer only seemed to spark more curiosity.

For Chen Ren, this was both convenient and inconvenient.

Convenient because it allowed him to slowly steer the conversation in directions that were useful to him. Inconvenient because he could not directly ask the questions he truly wanted answered.

The maid was still standing behind them, silent but watchful. Any sudden interest in sensitive matters would appear suspicious. So Chen Ren had to proceed carefully.

He started with ordinary questions.

Her hobbies, her interests, and which members of the family she liked the most.

Thankfully, Young Miss Niao spoke openly and with enthusiasm. And while she did not always realize it, many of her answers included little pieces of information about the great house of Long and the seventh floor itself.

As a result, Chen Ren was slowly gathering a surprisingly detailed picture of the place.

Of course, not all of it was useful.

Knowing that one of her brothers hated bitter tea and preferred sweet wine was not particularly helpful. Nor was the information that one of her sisters had recently been trying to win the attention of a young knight from the household guard.

Still, Chen Ren listened patiently to every story. Because mixed among the trivial details were fragments that actually mattered.

One of those fragments came when she casually mentioned something important.

Her mother—the head of the great house—had already anticipated that climbers would eventually reach the seventh floor. Because of that, she had allowed any member of the house to grant climbers permission to access the lift leading to the next floor.

It was something Chen Ren had already suspected. But hearing it confirmed directly from her was still valuable. However, the moment the subject of the lift came up, Young Miss Niao’s expression changed slightly.

The excitement faded from her eyes, replaced by something quieter.

She looked down at the book on the table for a moment before asking softly,

“Do you really want to keep climbing the pagoda?”

Chen Ren nodded without hesitation and replied, “I need to, young miss. I can’t give up on my goal… and frankly, I think no one should give up on their goals.”

She looked up again, studying his face carefully.

“Is it to reach the last floor?” she asked. “Everyone says climbers only care about that.”

Chen Ren smiled slightly and said, “Yes, most climbers want to reach the end of the pagoda. But I have other goals as well.”

Long Niao blinked in surprise. “Other goals? What are they?”

Chen Ren went silent for a moment.

He wondered if it was wise to mention it at all. The information could easily travel upward through the maid and eventually reach the house head. But after thinking about it, he realized that even if the knowledge of the medallion reached any NPCs, it likely would not matter much.

City Lord Xiangrui had already known about it and had not shown the slightest concern. So Chen Ren decided there was little harm in mentioning it.

“I’m looking for a medallion,” he said calmly. “Once I find it, I might not continue climbing the pagoda. I haven’t decided yet.”

As he spoke, his thoughts drifted briefly.

The pagoda contained countless resources, techniques, and opportunities. That much was undeniable. But the journey was also brutally dangerous. He had nearly died more than once just reaching the seventh floor.

If he obtained the medallion he was searching for, Chen Ren saw little reason to keep pushing higher. Perhaps he would explore a few more floors for inheritances, but beyond that, the risks would become increasingly unreasonable.

He was not someone who romanticized dying in pursuit of glory.

The sixth floor alone had been nearly fatal.

If that level had been so dangerous, what kind of horrors awaited in the top five floors?

Chen Ren knew well that, throughout the entire history of the pagoda, no one had successfully passed through those final floors.

And he had absolutely no intention of testing his luck against something that had claimed countless geniuses before him.

He knew the limits of luck.

As Chen Ren was thinking this, Long Niao tilted her head curiously and asked, “What kind of medallion is it? What does it do?”

Chen Ren thought for a moment before deciding to lie.

“It’s an heirloom,” he said. “One of my ancestors entered the pagoda long ago and lost it here. I haven’t been able to find it yet, so I’m hoping it might be somewhere on the higher floors.”

Long Niao’s eyes sparkled with interest. “So… he dropped it?”

“Yes. But I have no idea where exactly it might be.” Then he paused before adding deliberately, “I was actually hoping the great house of Long might know something about it.”

At that, Long Niao opened her mouth as if she was about to say something.

But before she could speak, the maid behind her stepped forward, “Young miss, you know what the head commanded about helping climbers.”

Chen Ren slowly turned his head toward the maid, doing his best not to frown.

Long Niao looked at her maid with a conflicted expression and said, “But Chen Ren told me so many interesting things. And it’s not like mother would care about a medallion.”

The maid shook her head calmly. “A rule is a rule, young miss. You know you cannot go against it.”

Long Niao bit her lip, clearly unhappy with the answer. After a moment, she turned back toward Chen Ren and said reluctantly, “I’m sorry. I can’t help you with it.”

Chen Ren simply smiled.

A small part of him was annoyed that the maid had stepped in before he could gain any useful information. But he also knew this was not something he could rush.

If he wanted to learn anything meaningful about the seventh floor—or the house of Long—then gaining Long Niao’s trust was far more important.

So he let the matter drop.

“That’s alright,” he said calmly. “But I’m sure I can still help you.” He leaned slightly forward and added, “If I manage to impress you, you’ll let me use the lift, right?”

Long Niao nodded slowly. “Yes. Mother said we are allowed to do that.”

Chen Ren smiled again.

“Then what would you like me to do?” he asked. “Do you want me to help you with the technique you’re trying to learn?”

Long Niao went silent when she heard that.

It was clear she had not thought about what she would actually ask of him. She even glanced back toward her maid for a moment, as if hoping the woman might give her an answer.

Chen Ren waited patiently.

After a few seconds, something suddenly flashed across Long Niao’s eyes, as if an idea had just formed.

“Dao,” she said.

Chen Ren raised an eyebrow.

“You said you know a lot about daos, right?” she continued.

“I do.”

Long Niao straightened slightly and said, “Then help me figure out my own Dao.”

Chen Ren paused when he heard the request.

Not because it was impossible.

He did, after all, know quite a lot about different kinds of Daos. Explaining them or guiding someone through the basics would not be particularly difficult. But helping someone discover their own Dao was something entirely different.

There were countless Daos in the world.

A cultivator could walk the Dao of the Sword, the Dao of Wind, the Dao of Fire, the Dao of Formations, the Dao of Healing, the Dao of Forge, even stranger paths like poison, illusion, puppetry, or music.

But the key to every Dao was the same.

It had to fit the person walking it.

Most cultivators with unique Daos already had some natural inclination toward them long before they formally realized it. Even Li Xuan, for example, had apparently spent years practicing with different swords before eventually stepping onto the Dao of the Sword.

But what about Long Niao? Did she have anything similar?

As Chen Ren studied the girl sitting across from him, another thought surfaced in his mind.

Did she even have a Dao to begin with?

Chen Ren knew something that she herself probably did not.

Long Niao was not truly alive.

She was astonishingly lifelike—her expressions, curiosity, and reactions were all incredibly natural—but Chen Ren understood that she was ultimately a construct of the pagoda.

A perfectly crafted existence. Which raised a troubling question. Could a construct develop a Dao? Or was her path already built into her existence?

The more Chen Ren thought about it, the more complicated the request seemed. What had sounded simple at first was quickly turning into something far more uncertain.

But backing away was not an option.

Helping Long Niao discover her Dao might be the key to earning her favor. And gaining her favor meant access to the lift leading to the next floor.

More importantly, staying close to her could help him uncover information about the hidden lifts that moved throughout the pagoda.

So Chen Ren pushed the doubts aside.

Before answering, he glanced around the room carefully, trying to see if anything here might reveal Long Niao’s true interests.

Books were stacked neatly on one side of the table. The martial technique she had been studying lay open in front of her. The room itself was elegant but quiet, decorated more like a study chamber than a noble child’s playroom.

But nothing in particular stood out.

Finally, Chen Ren looked back at her and said calmly,

“I’ll help you find your Dao.”

Long Niao’s eyes immediately brightened. But Chen Ren raised a finger and continued, “But for that, we’ll need to run a few experiments.”

***

In the hundreds of years of his life, Jun had long since grown accustomed to solitude.

Silence, boredom, and the slow passage of time no longer bothered him the way they once might have. Centuries alone had a way of dulling the need for constant movement or conversation. Still, even for someone like him, there were limits.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

And sitting idly in Goldspire City on the fifth floor had started to test those limits.

For a time, he had simply waited, observed, and gathered information. But eventually, even that became tedious. A part of him had briefly considered going out into the city and killing a few cultivators just to break the monotony. The thought itself was not unpleasant, but the moment the idea appeared, Jun had dismissed it.

Killing ordinary cultivators was beneath him. They were ants.

Weak, scrambling creatures whose lives held no meaning to someone like him. Even the so-called elites of the lower sects barely deserved his attention.

The only cultivators Jun considered remotely worthy of notice were those from the Guardian sects. And even they were not truly equals.

They were merely lizards.

Slightly more resilient creatures that could at least struggle for a moment before being crushed.

Jun had already reached a point where exterminating ants brought him no satisfaction.

So he waited and listened until eventually the news reached him that the Guardian sects had already begun moving toward the sixth floor. By that time, Jun had also gathered the information he needed about the structure of the pagoda’s lower levels.

There was no longer any reason to remain.

His disciples had performed well during their time on the fifth floor. Between hunting beasts, and quietly robbing and killing weaker cultivators, they had gathered a good amount of tokens.

One particularly productive day of looting had provided the final difference they needed for three of them to ascend together.

So Jun decided it was time.

What he had not expected—what none of them had expected—was what awaited them on the sixth floor.

A black desert stretched endlessly in every direction.

The air itself seemed tainted. Waves of demonic qi rolled across the dunes like invisible storms, thick enough that even seasoned cultivators hesitated upon sensing it.

The moment the portal delivered them into that wasteland, several of the cultivators who had arrived alongside Jun immediately widened their eyes in shock.

Some even took a step back instinctively.

But Jun did not.

For him, the sensation was… pleasant.

The demonic qi coiled around his body like a familiar embrace. Instead of suppressing him, it seemed to resonate with something deep within his existence.

To others, it was a suffocating hellscape. To Jun… It felt almost like paradise. Or perhaps hell.

But hell suited him perfectly well.

Even with his cultivation locked by the rules of the pagoda, Jun could feel the difference immediately.

On this floor, he was stronger. Far stronger.

His disciples seemed to sense it as well. A few of them smiled faintly as the demonic qi brushed against their bodies, empowering them in subtle ways.

Without hesitation, Jun began walking forward into the desert. His group followed behind him.

For a brief moment, he considered killing the cultivators who had ascended alongside them. It would be easy. The desert would swallow their bodies without leaving a trace, and it would allow him to test exactly how much stronger he had become in this environment. But just as the thought surfaced, his instincts whispered something else.

There were better opponents waiting ahead.

Much better.

And after centuries of survival, Jun had learned to trust those instincts.

So instead of turning on the ants around him, he continued moving deeper into the black desert.

As Jun moved through the black desert, he found his thoughts drifting toward one of the theories that had slowly begun forming in his mind about the pagoda itself.

At first, he had not paid much attention to it.

In his long life, Jun had seen countless secret inheritances and hidden trials scattered across the world. Old, senile cultivators loved to leave behind grand “tests” for the younger generations. Most of them were little more than elaborate tombs filled with traps, manuals, and dying echoes of pride.

He had broken through many of them.

None had impressed him.

But the pagoda was different.

It was far too large. Far too organized. And most importantly, far too functional.

Everything within it worked seamlessly—the floors, the people, the rewards, the creatures. It did not feel like a decaying inheritance left behind by some long-dead expert.

It felt… alive.

The more Jun observed it, the more convinced he became that the pagoda did not truly belong to this realm.

At first, he had briefly wondered whether the Devourers had something to do with it. They were among the few forces powerful enough to create something of this scale.

But that theory quickly fell apart.

The Devourers were not the type to leave behind something like this. They only consumed and destroyed.

They did not construct elaborate systems designed to test and reward cultivators in lower realms.

Jun also knew the story everyone repeated—the legend that an ancient sect leader had built the pagoda with the help of the greatest experts of his era.

Jun did not believe that story.

Even if every master of that generation had worked together, constructing something like this should have been impossible.

No.

If the story held any truth at all, then that sect leader must have possessed something extraordinary. Something that did not belong to this realm and maybe something that acted as the foundation holding the entire pagoda together. Jun’s gaze drifted briefly across the horizon as the wind pushed dark sand across the desert.

Even the puppets masquerading as citizens inside the pagoda were wrong.

They were not ordinary puppets powered by gears and spirit stones. They behaved with far more complexity than constructs should possess. If Jun had not been wary of the pagoda’s rules, he would have already dismantled several of them just to examine how they functioned.

The temptation was strong. But he was not reckless.

Getting kicked from the pagoda before discovering its secrets would be… disappointing.

So for now, he continued moving.

Jun and his disciples ran across the endless dunes of black sand for hours.

Occasionally, one of his disciples would point toward distant figures moving across the wasteland—large hordes of zombies wandering through the desert.

Jun never slowed down.

The creatures were too weak.

Even his disciples could destroy them easily, and Jun had no interest in letting them grow accustomed to fighting enemies that died in a single blow.

Growth required pressure. Not mindless slaughter.

So they continued running.

Five hours passed before anything finally changed.

And then, something interesting appeared on the horizon.

Jun stopped instantly.

His two disciples halted beside him as well, their gazes following his toward the distant figures moving across the black desert.

A group of cultivators were running.

Some of them were riding flying swords, though it was immediately clear that the weapons were damaged. The blades wobbled unevenly in the air, unable to rise higher than a few feet above the sand. Others had abandoned flight entirely and were sprinting across the desert on foot, pushing their movement techniques to their limits.

But what truly caught Jun’s attention were their robes.

Every single one of them wore the colors of the Guardian sects. There was a mix of cultivators from the Soaring Sword Sect and the Thunderblade Sect.

Jun narrowed his eyes slightly.

The two sects were not known for cooperating so closely. Seeing them running together like this was already unusual.

But a more important question lingered in his mind. What were they running from?

Jun scanned the empty desert behind them.

At first glance, there was nothing there. Still, the fear in the cultivators’ movements was unmistakable.

Jun watched them for a moment longer before murmuring calmly, “Let’s go see what’s happening.”

The moment he spoke, he pushed his qi down into his legs.

Black lightning erupted across his limbs, crackling violently as it wrapped around him. It was one of the many movement techniques he had mastered over the centuries.

In the next instant, Jun shot forward.

The desert beneath him blurred as he crossed several hundred feet in seconds.

Before the fleeing cultivators could even react, Jun appeared directly in their path.

His hand lashed out. One of the cultivators—a young woman was seized by the throat and smashed violently into the sand.

She let out a startled cry as her body struck the ground. The others though, did not stop, not even for a moment. Her sect members glanced back only briefly before continuing to flee, their fear clearly outweighing any loyalty they might have felt.

Jun found that mildly amusing. He looked down at the woman pinned beneath his grip and asked calmly,

“What are you running from?”

Her eyes widened in terror.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Jun tightened his grip slightly and interrupted her coldly.

“I only want the answer to what I asked.”

His fingers tightened around her throat. She gulped desperately before forcing out the words.

“The… the Zombie Queen…”

Jun frowned faintly.

“Who?”

“The Zombie Queen,” she repeated weakly.

At that exact moment, distant screams echoed across the desert.

Jun slowly raised his head. And then he saw her.

A figure with long, wild hair tore through the air toward them, moving with terrifying speed. Demonic qi poured from her body like a storm as she chased after the fleeing cultivators.

The moment Jun laid eyes on her, a slow smile spread across his face.

“Finally,” he muttered quietly. “A worthy opponent.”

***

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