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Dao of money Chapter 171
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 07:26:06 +0000 UTCChapter 171
Yalan stretched out lazily, her long body curling with the smooth grace of a predator, though her amber eyes stayed half-closed. As a high-realmed spirit beast, she didn’t really need to sleep. Once a month, maybe twice, a few hours were enough to refresh her body and sharpen her senses. That was what instinct demanded.
But instinct wasn’t everything.
Maybe it was her nature as a great cat, maybe it was just a secret she preferred to keep to herself, but Yalan liked sleeping far more than she would ever admit. And if she had to blame anyone, it wasn’t her fault—she had simply discovered too many excellent napping spots scattered throughout the village.
Her favorite? Chen Ren’s bed.
The man always gave her enough space to stretch out, never pushing her off, and the warmth of the place seeped pleasantly into her fur. Then there was Little Yuze, who had finally learned that when she draped herself across him, it wasn’t permission for him to fidget—it was a privilege. He would go stiff as stone, refusing to move an inch until she shifted first. That, too, had its charms.
But above even those, she cherished the roof of the sect building. The surface was a little rough beneath her, yes, but every time she rose from her nap, the reward was the same: the first light of dawn spilling across the world, washing the land in gold and red. Winter had nearly loosened its grip now. The heavy white clouds that clung to the sky had begun to scatter, leaving the sun to rise unchallenged, bright and blazing. From her perch, Yalan could watch it in all its glory.
And as she basked in that light, it wasn’t just sleep that claimed her. It was meditation. Reflection.
She had been circling a thought for decades now, gnawing at its edges without ever quite piercing its heart. But recently, thanks to one of Chen Ren’s strange lessons, the pieces had begun to fall into place. Her element was fire—not just any fire, but a flame that could burn the world. That was the name of the technique she had walked upon ever since she gained true awareness, a cultivation path that harmonized perfectly with her instincts. Her fire was consuming, fierce and unrelenting in every way and form.
And yet… there was more to fire than just burning.
Beasts didn’t usually bother with cultivation techniques the way humans did. Their bodies were their greatest weapons, and their instincts guided them as naturally as breathing. With sharp senses and the endless wilderness to feed them spirit herbs, cores, and strange minerals, they rarely needed manuals. Growth came from living, fighting, and devouring.
But Yalan was different.
She had served humans long enough to see the value of structure, of logic laid over instinct. A cultivation manual didn’t replace her nature—it sharpened it. In her mind, instinct and logic together made the sharpest claw. That was why she had embraced [A Flame That Could Burn the World], the path she had walked for years now.
Only, she knew she hadn’t tapped into its full potential.
The manual spoke clearly—her flames had to grow hotter, burning hotter and hotter until they reached a level that could reduce the very world itself to ash. But her fire… wasn’t there yet. It was strong, yes, stronger than many spirit beasts of her realm, but not enough. Not yet. Even if breaking through to the next realm promised growth, what she wanted was more than just the usual leap forward. She wanted transformation.
Fortunately, she had been listening.
Chen Ren’s lectures, strange and confusing as they often were, had planted seeds in her mind. In one class, he had spoken of bodies that burned at different temperatures. The concept had eluded her at first—flames were flames, weren’t they? But the way he explained it made her pause. Fire wasn’t equal. There were flames that licked gently, and flames that could consume steel. Temperature was what separated them. Temperature was what made fire truly lethal.
And in that same lesson, he had said something else. Something that lingered in her heart like an ember refusing to die out.
The sun.
A flaming sphere in the sky, burning so hot that anything approaching it would cease to exist. The only reason their world wasn’t already ash was because of the distance, the vast space that kept it at bay.
The human children had gasped and whispered, too young to understand the weight of what he said.
But Yalan… Yalan had thought of something else.
If the sun could burn away anything that drew near, if its very existence was to incinerate without mercy… wasn’t that exactly the same as the cultivation manual she practiced?
Flames that could burn the world.
Yalan let the words roll through her mind like a mantra. If there were ever flames that truly deserved that title, it was the fire of the sun itself. No other blaze could compare. But how was she supposed to use something so distant? She couldn’t leap into the heavens and snatch a wisp of that eternal inferno for herself.
No, if she wanted it, she would have to forge it within.
She breathed in slowly, her chest rising and falling as she sank deeper into meditation. I will make my flames burn as hot as the sun… hot enough that they cease to be mere flames.
Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that fire alone was not what made the sun what it was. The sun did not simply burn, it illuminated. It lit the entire world, driving back shadow, nurturing life even as it scorched. Her fire could light a campfire, yes, but compared to that vast brilliance it was pitiful, small, fleeting.
How can I make my flames not only burn like the sun… but shine like it as well?
Her tail flicked once, and with the movement a lick of fire ran along its length, flickering bright against the dawn air. She didn’t open her eyes. She let it burn, not as power but as thought, holding her mind fixed on the path ahead.
She continued to meditate.
Time slipped past her like water through claws. Minutes, hours—she didn’t know.
But… There was no breakthrough, no sudden spark of enlightenment, but that didn’t bother her. Progress wasn’t measured by leaps. For her, having a direction was enough. Once a cultivator set their feet on a path, reaching its end was only a matter of patience. Years, decades, centuries. It made no difference.
The world slowly crept back to her senses. There were voices and laughter, and she heard the slap of water on stone. She flicked her ears once, then opened her eyes.
Below, Whiskey was spraying arcs of water everywhere, the glittering streams soaking the courtyard as the children shrieked with delight. Xinxin darted in and out among them, her small weasel body weaving through the chaos with surprising speed, as though joining in the game. The lunari, in his youthful ignorance, clearly had no sense of restraint, happily drenching everyone within reach.
Yalan’s brows furrowed. Her tail lashed once, a flicker of disapproval crossing her face. But in the end, she let it go. Whiskey was still young, barely out of infancy by a spirit beast’s reckoning. Mistakes were part of his path. It wasn’t her role to scold him for every misstep.
She stretched languidly, the last warmth of her meditation still clinging to her, and turned her eyes away. She had more pressing matters to attend to than watching over a child who didn’t yet understand his own strength.
And if Yalan was right, today they would be leaving for Red Peak City. It was early, yes, but the journey would take time, and Chen Ren wasn’t one to waste it.
The thought left her conflicted. Red Peak had been her home once, for a long span of years. Going back meant walking into memories she had sealed away, faces she had no interest in seeing again, and burdens she had chosen to shed. Her tail twitched with irritation as she imagined it. Still… she didn’t have much of a choice.
At least Chen Ren would be there. With him, she could finally push through some matters that his predecessor—the careless fool that he was—had never bothered to settle. Closing those loose ends would give her a measure of peace, and that was worth something.
Resolved, she slipped from her perch and padded through the village. The air was cool with the fading touch of night, and villagers were only just beginning to stir. She passed Chief Muyang and a handful of men headed toward the palisade. The beast rising was almost at its end, and there was little real work left there. But habit was hard to break, and for these men, patrolling the wall had become routine.
Yalan’s steps were silent. A few villagers saw her and waved as she passed, and she dipped her head in return. To them, she was nothing more than Chen Ren’s pet, a great white cat trailing after him. She disliked the word—pet—but she let it slide. Better that than for them to know the truth of her strength. Hidden claws had their own advantage.
Moving lightly through the dirt paths, she reached the narrow trail that curved toward the cliffs at the back of the village. And there, just as the horizon brightened with the sun’s first reach, she saw him.
A sweaty Chen Ren.
He was walking back along the path, sweat glistening down his brow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Beside him strode Li Xuan, the young man’s posture upright, eyes still carrying the edge of training. The moment Chen Ren spotted her, his steps quickened, his smile widening as though he had been waiting for her all along.
Her voice brushed into his mind as easily as a whisper of wind. “Training over?”
Chen Ren nodded. “Yes. I’m ready to get in the carriage. Where have you been?”
Yalan stretched languidly, her tail flicking as fire briefly rippled at its tip. “Doing some training of my own.”
***
Chen Ren leaned back against the carriage wall, letting the slow rumble of the wheels and the faint creak of wood set a steady rhythm. His eyes wandered lazily over the faces gathered with him.
Up front, one of the mortal disciples—Zhou Ping, if he remembered correctly—handled the reins.
Inside, it was a stranger mix than he was used to. Luo Feng sat opposite him. Beside him was Li Xuan, back straight, jaw tight, clearly unwilling to waste even a moment in appearing disciplined. Yalan had taken up her usual place against the side, sprawled out with the ease of a predator at rest, her tail flicking now and then.
The oddest piece of baggage, however, wasn’t living.
The box.
It sat at Chen Ren’s side, unassuming save for the faint glow of the silencing array etched over its surface. Inside, Wang Jun’s head was tucked away—mute for now, though Chen Ren had no doubt he was itching to spit curses. The head had insisted on coming along, claiming it was for “soul cultivation training,” though Chen Ren suspected curiosity was the real reason. After their short talk about Red Peak City and his plans, the damn thing probably wanted front-row seats.
In the carriage ahead, Tang Yuqiu rode with her own guard and, to Chen Ren’s faint amusement, Whiskey. The little lunari had apparently refused to share space, sprawling across the seat as though it were a throne. Yuqiu, rather than complain, had only cooed about how cute the beast was. Whiskey had been brought along for training—if opportunity presented itself—but clearly the creature had already carved out his own privileges.
The arrangement was… unusual.
Normally, Chen Ren would’ve brought Zi Wen, Hong Yi, or Feiyu on such a trip. Familiar, reliable, predictable. His ties with both Li Xuan and Luo Feng were thinner. In fact, he had been surprised when Luo Feng requested to join the journey. But when the man explained he had read about certain rare spirit plants growing around Red Peak City, Chen Ren agreed. Luo Feng had been working himself half to death cultivating spirit rice and tending fields for the sect; granting him a chance to broaden his collection was the least Chen Ren could do.
So here they were. A different mix of people, beasts, and… boxes, trundling their way down the road toward Red Peak.
As for Li Xuan, his reasons for tagging along were plain enough. The man was preparing to return to the Soaring Sword Sect. With the beast rising nearly at its end, he had decided he had seen and learned enough. What exactly he had gained from his time in Meadow Village, Chen Ren couldn’t say, but Li Xuan carried himself with a calmness that suggested his stay hadn’t been wasted.
“When I started this journey,” Li Xuan said suddenly, breaking the soft clatter of wheels, “I never thought I would end it in this fashion. These last two months in the village have already opened my eyes to my purpose as a cultivator. They’ve given me insight into my dao.”
Chen Ren inclined his head, lips quirking faintly. “I’m glad you feel that way. You stayed longer than I expected. For a time, I almost thought you would be heading back the moment Cloud Mist City was struck by the rising.”
Li Xuan shook his head. “There were enough cultivators in the Soaring Sword Sect and Cloud Mist City to defend it. Meadow Village only had you all. And I know you are a busy man, Chen Ren. My stay here reminded me of something important, that I must use what I have been given for the sake of mortals. A good sword is wielded for others, not for yourself.”
Chen Ren studied him for a long moment before nodding again. It was a fine sentiment, one that made sense. A sword that lived only for itself would eventually dull. But still… Chen Ren doubted it was quite so simple.
Li Xuan wasn’t just any wandering swordsman—he was an important disciple of the Soaring Sword Sect. Chen Ren could not imagine his master being pleased that he had all but ignored the beast rising. Sect politics were stern. If he knew anything about how sects worked, performing well in the beast rising would have brought Li Xuan no small amount of prestige and resources. To cast that aside…
Either he is very sure of his dao, Chen Ren thought, or very foolish.
But it wasn’t his place to say so, and he let the thought slip into silence.
Li Xuan looked utterly content with himself, like a man who believed he had done a noble deed. Chen Ren didn’t see the point in breaking that illusion, so he let the silence sit.
But then Li Xuan added, “Also, thank you for your insights into body cultivation. It wasn’t something I’d ever considered before, but I believe it will help me.”
Chen Ren raised a brow. “Does the Soaring Sword Sect even have manuals on body cultivation?”
Li Xuan nodded firmly. “It should. We have at least one elder who practices it, and I plan to seek him out once I return.”
At that, Luo Feng let out a quiet chuckle. “It must be nice, having elders for everything. Even here in Meadow Village, the Soaring Sword Sect is held in reverence.”
Li Xuan smiled at the remark, shoulders straightening a little. “The sect is a long-standing one. When you survive for centuries, you naturally attract all kinds of talent. Every path has its place there, in one form or another.”
From there the conversation shifted easily—Luo Feng asked about other elders, Li Xuan indulged him, offering details that were largely public knowledge. Names of sword cultivators, stories of great duels, the usual things that made people revere the Soaring Sword Sect.
Chen Ren, however, let the words wash past him. His thoughts wandered elsewhere. If the Soaring Sword Sect housed such a wide range of cultivators, perhaps other sects did too. Esoteric daos, paths overlooked by the great clans—there was likely a wealth of knowledge hidden behind their gates. Knowledge that might be worth his time.
But before his thoughts could deepen, the carriage jolted slightly as its pace slowed. The rhythm of the wheels softened. Everyone inside noticed it.
Chen Ren narrowed his eyes. A beast attack? Or something else?
He leaned to the side, sliding open the small window. Outside, the road ahead was crowded. Several carriages rolled in front of them, slowing to a crawl. Others surrounded them on both sides, forming a loose cluster.
Luo Feng leaned forward, peering out the same way. “Why are there so many carriages all at once? A merchant caravan?”
Li Xuan considered it, then nodded. “Probably. With the rising nearly at an end, merchants are more willing to take risks. It makes sense for them to travel now.” He paused, his brows furrowing. “Or… it might be because of the tournaments.”
Chen Ren’s gaze sharpened. He turned to face Li Xuan.
“What tournament?”
