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Dao of money Chapter 192
🕑 Added 2025-11-06 11:01:34 +0000 UTCChapter 192
Chen Ren stared at the green concoction with a stiff face. The closer he got, the worse it became. The smell hit him like a punch—sharp, sour, and rotten all at once. His stomach twisted, and he honestly thought if he leaned in even one inch more, he might throw up right into the tub.
Qing He had warned him that beast-blood baths weren’t like natural treasures and often smelled awful, but he hadn’t expected this level of suffering. If someone ever bottled this scent, it could be used as a weapon, not medicine. Maybe it felt worse because of his heightened senses now, but that didn’t comfort him at all.
Still, he forced himself forward. Curiosity and stubbornness pushed him. He leaned over, pinched his nose, and dipped his fingers in.
It felt cold. Not normal cold, but death cold.
His entire arm jerked back on instinct. His fingers stiffened like icicles. A shiver shot through his spine and his shoulders. For a second, he genuinely thought his hand stopped working.
“How am I supposed to bathe in this?” he muttered. “If I jump in, I’ll die in minutes.”
Qing He smirked like she’d been waiting exactly for that reaction. “How do you like it?”
Chen Ren glared weakly. “Perfect. If the goal is to freeze someone to death.”
Yalan flicked her tail and sat primly on a rock, judgment in her eyes. “What did you expect a beast-blood bath to be like?”
“Not something that murders me,” Chen Ren shot back.
“It won’t kill you,” Qing He said calmly, waving her hand as if he were complaining about cold tea. “The beast you brought back was very potent. Once you step in, you need to absorb the entire essence in the bath. That cold you felt—let it inside. It will strengthen your bones.”
Chen Ren stared back at the tub. It still looked like poisonous soup mixed with swamp sludge and despair.
“… Fantastic,” he muttered, sighing. “I always imagined dying in such a way.”
He dipped a finger back into the liquid. The same violent shiver ran up his arm, all the way to his shoulder. He pulled his hand out again and stared at Qing He, like she had just handed him a death sentence.
“What if I just freeze to death before anything happens?”
Qing He scoffed without hesitation. “Then you were never meant to be a cultivator, much less a body cultivator. This path isn’t for the soft-hearted. Think about the payoffs. Once your bones are refined, they will hardly ever break again. And if you use palm or fist techniques, they will hit far above your realm.”
Chen Ren swallowed and let out a slow breath. She was right. It was too late to back out now. Cold or not, fear or not—he had to do it. And honestly, if anything went wrong, he had Qing He and Yalan right here. He wasn’t alone.
He breathed out once more, nodded, and then asked, “Do… I have to go in naked?”
Qing He blinked once, as if he had just asked whether water was wet. “Of course. Do you want to ruin your robes?” Then her eyes flicked down and a smirk tugged at her lips. “Don’t get shy now. Just undress and jump in.”
Yalan chimed in without shame, tail flicking. “I’ve seen you naked many times. No need to worry about me.”
Chen Ren froze. Many times? When? He very nearly asked… then stopped himself, because the answer would probably traumatize him.
He clicked his tongue, exhaled sharply, and stripped. Robes, underwear—everything hit the floor in one practiced motion before he could think too much. If he hesitated, he knew he would talk himself out of this.
He glanced once at the tub, feeling the cold practically radiate off it, and before any hint of embarrassment could catch up to him, he dove in.
The moment his body touched the liquid, pain hit.
He felt a crushing cold envelope his whole body. Like someone shoved him naked into space to freeze to death.
His breath locked. His muscles seized. Every nerve screamed. The cold felt like metal claws digging into his marrow and twisting.
His body tried to curl in on itself. His teeth chattered so hard he heard them click.
He couldn’t even inhale—his lungs felt like they’d frozen solid.
The only sound that left his mouth was a strangled gasp.
It wasn’t just his skin that froze. The cold shot deeper—into his nerves, into his marrow, into a place he didn’t even know could feel pain. His very soul felt like it was being gripped by claws of ice and squeezed tight.
Chen Ren didn’t hold back the scream. It tore out of him raw, and instinctively he tried to lurch upward and escape the bath, but Qing He’s cold voice cut through the ringing in his ears.
“Stay inside. Start absorbing the essence. The cold will get easier once you do.”
Absorb? How? Every inch of him felt like it was shattering. He wasn’t thinking anymore—just hurting, frozen to the bone, breath catching in short, panicked bursts. But he forced his teeth together and tried to suck in air despite the way his lungs burned like they’d iced over.
His first instinct was to fight the sensation, to thrash his way out, but instead he forced himself still. Slowly, shaking, he reached inward with his senses. The essence around him felt wild, sharp, angry—like a living storm of frost pressing in from every direction.
He tried to draw it in. Nothing happened.
He tried again, jaw clenched so tight he felt something pop in his neck. The pain made his vision swim, but he didn’t stop. He kept pulling, refusing to quit even as his body trembled uncontrollably.
Then finally—just when he thought his fingers would go numb and fall off—something moved.
A thread of energy trickled into him, sliding under his skin. He froze, stunned. It was small, barely anything… but it was warm. Warm in a way that made him gasp. It slid into his veins, faint at first, then steadier, and he felt it travel like a spark along his blood, reaching his bones.
And then, a warm pulse moved through him, from bones to his entire body.
The cold didn’t vanish, but for one second, the pain loosened. He latched onto that sensation like a drowning man gripping rope, and he pulled again. More essence seeped in, and the warmth surged, brushing every bone inside him as if marking them, strengthening them by tiny degrees.
The contrast was brutal—warmth inside, biting ice outside. It made his muscles twitch and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He kept absorbing anyway. He welcomed the warmth and endured the chill, letting his bones drink in the essence bit by bit.
It hurt like hell. His body shook. His lips were numb. But his bones… they were changing. Hardening. Strengthening. And he clung to that, breathing through the pain as the warmth slowly ate away at the ice gripping him.
But he kept going—not out of bravery, but because he could feel it working. Every time that warmth pulsed through him, his bones felt denser, heavier, stronger. If he stopped now, all this suffering would be pointless.
Still, he couldn’t just absorb endlessly. The essence needed time to run through his marrow, settle, and harden everything inside him. That meant long stretches where he couldn’t pull anything in, just sit in the freezing sludge and endure. Those pauses were worse than the absorption. In the silence, the cold chewed through him again and again until his thoughts blurred.
His stomach twisted violently. Bile climbed up his throat, and for a second he really thought he would vomit right there in the thick green bath.
Qing He’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears again, steady and annoyingly calm. “Your body is absorbing vital essence. It will push impurities out. Do not vomit into the bath. Hold it in. Wait until you finish.”
He bit down so hard he felt his jaw creak. He forced the bile back and nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak. He’d rather pass out face-first than puke in front of them and ruin the bath.
More essence seeped into him, each wave weaker but warmer. The cold slowly dulled… but the price was that he couldn’t feel his limbs anymore. It was all just flashes of heat inside and ice outside, fighting over his body. His hands floated uselessly in the liquid; his toes might as well not exist. His breathing turned shallow, and even shivering took too much strength now.
Still, he knew he was past halfway. So he didn’t think. He didn’t try to judge pain. He just waited until each warm pulse settled, then dragged in the next bit of essence like a man drinking poison for the cure.
His bones began to protest. Not a dull ache—a deep splitting pressure like they were being wedged apart from the inside. Each time essence touched them again, it felt like they would crack open. He would pause, breathe, and wait. Let them settle. Then continue. Over and over.
Time stopped being time. Minutes felt like hours, hours like days. There was only the bath, the cold, the warmth and the dull roaring in his head. At some point he realized he couldn’t even cry out anymore—his throat was too raw, voice swallowed somewhere between his ribs and the frost clawing at his spine.
Then slowly—painfully slowly—the warmth overtook the cold. A balance shifted. Heat became a steady burn spreading through his skeleton, chasing the frost away.
He was on the final stretch.
His bones trembled under the last bit of essence waiting outside his skin. Any sane person would have stopped here. His body didn’t want to take more. It told him it was done. Finished.
Chen Ren didn’t listen.
With what little strength he had left, with lips numb and body shaking like a dying leaf, he pulled the final reservoir of essence into himself all at once.
It hit like fire and winter crashing together—a spike of agony so sharp his vision went black at the edges.
He didn’t scream this time.
He didn’t have the breath for it.
He just clung to the sensation as everything inside him burned and froze and broke and reforged at the same time, forcing his body into a new shape whether it liked it or not.
And he did not let go.
Qing He said something, but it came through muffled and distant. He didn’t hear the words—he couldn’t. His head was ringing. The only thing he could focus on was finishing this before his body gave out for real.
The cold vanished so fast it felt like someone had ripped winter out of his bones. In its place, fire roared through him. Every drop of essence he had forced into himself lit up at once, blazing along his marrow like molten metal being poured into fragile glass.
He barely felt his own breath. He barely felt his skin. All he felt was heat and pressure.
He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt, and forced the essence to move, to follow his will. Down his arms. Through his ribs. Into his legs. One bone at a time. If he slipped now, his body would tear itself apart. He could feel it in the screaming tension inside him.
His stomach lurched. Bitter bile shot up his throat and he nearly choked. Thick saliva mixed with something darker spilled from the corner of his mouth and dripped into the bath, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His bones felt like they were being hammered from inside, cracks spreading then sealing, again and again.
Almost there. Just one last push.
The final pool of essence hovered near his spine, refusing to sink. Chen Ren forced his focus on it, dragged it in, and jammed it deep into the bone. His spine flared with burning heat, but it held. Barely.
That was it. That was all of it.
The moment he felt the last thread settle, he moved on instinct alone.
He launched himself out of the tub, slipping and half-falling out of the thick green liquid. He didn’t care. He hit the ground, hands shaking, and he didn’t spare a thought for modesty or posture. He just bent forward and vomited.
It felt like his entire insides were being ripped out.
Black sludge poured out of his mouth in thick waves, splattering the stone, steaming faintly like it was burning its way out. Each retch pulled more up—tar-thick, sticky, foul—like his stomach had turned itself inside out. The stench hit him and he gagged harder, coughing and choking but unable to stop.
It kept coming. And coming.
His whole body curled and shook with each heave. His ribs hurt. His throat felt raw. His vision blurred.
It was disgusting, but he didn’t even care. He just let his body purge, let it empty every rotten thing the bath had forced loose.
Only when nothing came up—when he was dry-heaving air did he slump forward, palms flat on the ground, chest heaving like he had sprinted miles.
His body hurt everywhere. But under the pain, under the weakness… there was strength. Real strength. His bones felt like iron bars under his skin.
And heavens, he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.
He wiped the last streak of black sludge from his lips with the back of his hand and scooted away from the puddle. He didn’t want to kneel anywhere near it, not after what had just come out of him. His back found the side of the tub and he leaned against it, chest rising and falling like he had just run up a mountain.
Something warm dropped over his body. A towel.
He lifted his head. Qing He stood above him.
“You need a shower,” she said. “You stink.”
Chen Ren gave a tired, crooked smile. “I need more than a shower. I’ve never felt so disgusting in my life.”
Yalan flicked her tail and hopped closer, nose wrinkling slightly. “You’ve also never pushed impurities out of your bones before. It’s surprising how much filth was inside you when you’re already at the peak of qi refinement.”
Chen Ren stared at the black puddle again. It looked like a small tar pit. Hard to believe all of that had been inside him. He resisted the urge to gag again.
Qing He kneeled beside him and spoke calmly, as if she were explaining a recipe. “After finishing the body forging realm, cultivators usually focus only on qi. They strengthen meridians, dantian, and circulation. The body gets ignored until much later, when impurities have already piled up again.” She tapped his forehead lightly. “You’re doing this step early. That’s fortunate. Painful, but fortunate.”
Chen Ren rubbed his face with the towel, hair still dripping green liquid. “I don’t feel fortunate. I don’t even feel strong. I just feel… hungry.”
“Give it time,” Qing He said. “Your body’s still processing the essence. The strength will settle in soon.” She stood up and dusted off her hands. “Now get up and go wash. I’ll tell Xiulan to bring every plate of food she can find. You’ll need to eat a mountain to replenish what you burned.”
Chen Ren nodded and slowly pushed himself to his feet. His legs shook like newborn deer legs, and he had to grip the side of the tub to steady himself. He felt drained, empty, and a bit light-headed, but somewhere under all that, a quiet heat pulsed in his bones.
And right now, the only thing he wanted more than a bath… was food.
His legs shook, but he managed to stand. He glanced at the pool of impurities again and his stomach lurched; nothing came up, only a dry heave and a sour taste. He turned to leave the room, only to stop at the sound of quick footsteps.
Zi Wen rushed in with Sori perched on his shoulder. He froze for a heartbeat, eyes flicking from the reeking bath to the black sludge on the floor, then to Chen Ren—naked but for a towel. Zi Wen hurried closer.
“Sect Leader Chen, are you okay?”
“I am,” Chen Ren said, voice rough. “I just broke through to the second step of body cultivation. Why are you here? You look troubled.”
Zi Wen nodded, still catching his breath. “Yes, there’s something that needs your attention.”
“Can it wait? I stink, and I’m starving.”
Zi Wen’s mouth tightened. He shook his head. “I think it’s urgent, Sect Leader. Sori noticed something heading toward the village.”
“A beast? I thought the rising was over.”
“It’s not a beast, Sect Leader. It’s a carriage. Sori saw Cloud Mist City Lord Li Baolong’s crest on it, and two more carriages were behind it.” He lifted a hand to the avian beast. “I had her take a closer look. She says many men and women are inside. Some wear robes that give off a lot of qi. I believe they are enchanted robes. Her senses are sharp; she’s very sure.”
Qing He stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “All in armor?”
“Some,” Zi Wen said. “The ones with strong qi did not. They wore robes. That’s why I came running.” He swallowed. “By the count of armored escorts Sori saw, I think a noble or City Lord Li himself is coming to our village.”
