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Dao of money Chapter 87
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 04:32:56 +0000 UTCChapter 87
Yushu yawned. His long, bulky hands stretched behind his neck as he sat on top of a small hill, overlooking a road. His back was against a tree as he felt himself almost falling asleep.
When he had first become a cultivator and realized that, rather than soaring over cities and practicing techniques that could shatter entire buildings with a single strike, ‘Cultivation’ was more about sitting in a room, absorbing the world's energy while popping pills like a drug addict, he had felt utterly betrayed. All those grand expectations—reduced to hours of motionless meditation, chasing after some vague, unseen progress. And worse, while some people barely cultivated for an hour a day and still saw results, he could sit for entire nights and feel nothing.
So he fought tooth and nail for pills to speed up his growth, only to realize that even that was a struggle. Between the politics of his sect, the resource hoarding, and the endless cycle of training on lifeless dummies, he had enough. If cultivation was going to be a slow death of boredom, he would rather risk dying on his own terms.
And so, he left.
Many called him foolish, said things like, nothing good will happen. That he was walking down the wrong path. That the heavens would not look kindly upon a rogue cultivator. But in just his first year of being one, he had proven them wrong. Even as a mere first star qi refinement cultivator, he received offers from various clans, each eager to recruit him.
In the cities, women threw themselves at him, hoping to catch his eye and secure a better life. After all, even the lowest cultivator was far wealthier than ordinary mortals.
In the end, he joined the clan that had given him the best offer—the Xueying Clan of Jingxi City.
They had given him pills every week, accelerating his cultivation from first star to third star in just two years. It was something that he felt was impossible before, but it happened. It became possible. Not only that, if he desired women, they were brought to him without hesitation. The clan leader had even attempted to betroth him to one of his daughters, eager for a grandson with cultivation talent.
All in all, his life had suddenly become colorful—a complete one-eighty to the dull days of meditation and endless training dummies.
But just a week ago, that had changed.
His latest task had been simple—too simple for his liking, which was to stop a carriage from some Tang Clan trying to build a business in Jingxi City. He had done it easily. After all, it was just a carriage, not a cultivator. But apparently, it had been a trap. A false alarm that was well-played by the Tang Clan to gauge their reaction. Now, with the Xueying Clan’s true intentions exposed, the Tang Clan was sending another batch of goods into the city, or at least that was what he was let on.
This time, Clan Head Xueying Shenmu had warned him that cultivators might be among the escorts and that he might actually have to fight.
And if he was honest?
He didn’t mind.
He was confident in his skills. Unless the Tang Clan had somehow scraped together a peak qi refinement cultivator or, worse, a foundation establishment expert, he had nothing to worry about. And honestly, someone that strong wouldn’t waste their time on merchant escort duty.
But the problem wasn’t the fight.
It was the waiting.
He had been sitting on this hill for seven hours now. The sun had set, the road remained empty, and the only thing accompanying him was the occasional night breeze.
He almost felt like he was back in his sect, doing nothing but sitting around. And that pricked his scalp, not in a good way. He folded his arms in front of his chest, and let his eyes partially close in boredom.
This is just… Boring. I might as well–
"Daoist Yushu, I see a carriage coming!"
The sound of wooden wheels rolling forward reached his ears. Right, he scoffed without even bothering to open his eyes. "Not every carriage belongs to the Tang Clan. We need to be sure before acting."
"But, Daoist Yushu—the carriage is tinted red, and it has the Tang Clan’s crest on it."
Yushu’s eyes snapped open.
This time, he took a proper look.
A large carriage strolled through the road. The wooden frame was reinforced with dark iron. And the front held a driver’s seat where there was a lone man, controlling the veins. Behind that, a middle compartment was made, probably for the guards or anyone travelling with them. And at the very back, an extra portion extended outward, possibly for storage.
It was just like the last one.
Yushu turned his gaze to the group behind him—five mortal men and three body forging realm cultivators standing at attention.
He smirked.
"Get ready."
Their spines straightened instantly.
"Our goal is simple," he continued. "Kill any ordinary people, capture anyone important, and confiscate or destroy whatever they’re carrying."
A wave of grim nods passed through the group. “You, aim properly!”
Yushu motioned to one of the mortals, a bowman, who stepped forward and drew his weapon.
The mortal narrowed his eyes, taking the aim. Yushu saw how he didn’t even breathe for a second. They all waited for the perfect moment, locking their gazes on the rolling carriage—then, with a twang, the arrow was in motion, slicing through the air, finding its mark right at the carriage wheel dead center.
A splintering crack rang out. The wheel snapped, sending the entire carriage lurching to the side. The force of the impact made it tilt uncontrollably, the wooden frame groaning as it tumbled forward and slammed into a tree with a heavy crash.
“Arrrrh!” The driver’s high-pitched voice pierced through the air as he flung from his seat, his body hitting the ground hard. He let out a grunt, and another.
Yushu grinned. "Great shot, mortal." He was on his feet the next second, drawing his weapon.
"Now—let’s go!"
He heard his men acknowledge with battle cries, and together, they rushed down the hill.
One by one, they moved towards the wrecked carriage. The road was mostly deserted at this hour—fortunate for them, as there would be no interruptions.
“There,” Yushu signalled his men. They veered off to deal with the driver who was groaning on the ground while clutching his sides. Yushu strode toward the carriage doors, fully expecting resistance from whoever was inside.
He grasped the handle and yanked the door open.
“Hello there,” Yushu said playfully, but his eyebrows shot upwards.
Empty.
Is it the wrong carriage?
But just as doubt began creeping into his mind, his eyes moved to the Tang Clan crest carved into the wooden door.
No. This was definitely the one.
Something was off.
Something was definitely off, he sensed it in his bones.
He turned towards the rear compartment, where he knew that goods were typically stored.
Taking a steadying breath, he reached for the doors.
His fingers curled around the handle.
Click.
The latch lifted, and as the doors swung open, his eyes widened.
There were no crates of herbs. No bottles of perfume.
There were only people inside.
Or at least—at first glance, they seemed like people.
In the dim gloom of the compartment, their figures were shrouded in darkness, but before Yushu could make sense of the situation, the one in the middle suddenly flashed him a grin—
—And lightning crackled to life in his fist.
Shit—!
Instinct kicked in, and Yushu leaped backward.
But he wasn’t fast enough.
The lightning strike arced through the air, slamming into his leg before he could fully escape.
Pain exploded through his limb as a sharp zap surged through his body, and he hit the ground with a cry.
"Daoist Yushu!" one of his men called out.
The others snapped to attention, their weapons raised, watching their leader fall.
But Yushu wasn’t someone who would go down that easily. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up, his injured leg trembling under his weight.
"Get ready for battle! We’ve been fooled!" he bellowed.
As his words rang out, the lightning-wielding cultivator stepped out of the carriage.
The first thing Yushu noticed was his short dark hair. Then, his smug smile.
He tilted his head and sized the man up and down. He didn’t even have a big build of a body to threaten Yushu, but his lightning packed a sharp jolt. His blood boiled at the audacity of the man. “Who the f—”
His words died. And his breath hitched in his throat as he saw the other people step out of the carriage besides the cultivator.
Though, it wouldn't be right to call them people.
Rather than flesh and blood, the figures that emerged were humanoid constructs, their limbs carved from wood, their joints held together by intricate mechanisms. He had mistaken them for humans in the darkness of the carriage, but now, he could tell what they were.
Puppets.
Yushu felt a chill crawl up his spine. And judging by the energy rolling off of them, these weren’t just for show. They could fight better than any mortal he had brought.
His gaze flicked back to the lightning-wielding Cultivator.
"A Puppet Master?" Yushu muttered under his breath.
Not just that—one proficient in lightning arts that was in the qi refinement realm?
His mind raced.
The Xueying Clan Head had mentioned that the Tang Clan was working with some small-time sect. Yushu had assumed that meant a few low-level cultivators in the body forging realm.
But this?
A lightning user and combat-ready puppets were way beyond his pay grade. And he knew he couldn't just retreat.
Grinding his teeth, he charged forward, calling upon his qi as his fists became encased in solid stone, a martial technique he had painstakingly practiced known as [Earthshroud Gauntlet.]
The lightning-wielding cultivator met him head-on.
A crackling fist, wreathed in arcs of electricity, slammed against his own.
For a split second, Yushu felt a tremor run through his stone armor—then a sharp fracture spread across its surface.
Damn it!
The force behind the lightning cultivator’s blows was no joke.
Still, he refused to back down. Circulating his qi, he stepped forward and launched into another attack—
[Stone Avalanche Strike!]
His fist came down like a hammer, aiming for his opponent’s ribs.
But the man moved like a phantom, electricity surging through his legs as he dodged, barely a flicker in Yushu’s vision before he appeared just out of reach.
And the few times Yushu did manage to land a hit?
His opponent simply took the blow head-on, his body absorbing the impact without hesitation.
He's as strong as me—maybe stronger.
Realization hit him harder than a physical blow. The lightning user wasn’t just some useless cultivator with no battle experience. He had the technique and endurance to fight on even footing.
But I'm not done yet!
Summoning all his strength, Yushu activated his core technique—[Titan's Embrace.]
A surge of qi hardened his skin, wrapping his entire body in a dense layer of stone, turning him into a walking juggernaut.
With a roar, he lunged forward, too swift for a dodge and as he expected, the lightning cultivator didn’t got any time to jump back.
Instead, his entire body shimmered, bathed in a brilliant sheen of blue light—a defensive technique Yushu had never seen before.
And when they collided, a shockwave rippled through. The ground cracked beneath them.
For a moment, the two of them stood locked in place, neither giving an inch.
Then—lightning surged from the dark haired man’s fingertips.
Before Yushu could react, a blazing fist shot forward, striking him square in the face.
Crack!
His stone armor shattered—and Yushu was sent flying.
His body crashed against the hard ground, bouncing once before skidding to a stop.
For a second, everything spun. His vision blurred, his ears rang, he couldn’t even feel his limbs. The momentary defeat dissolved.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus.
His gaze swept across the battlefield—
One of his fellow cultivators was already down.
The other two were locked in a desperate struggle—surrounded by four wooden puppets, their movements relentless and precise.
As for the rest of his mortal men?
They lay scattered, groaning in pain, completely overwhelmed by the puppets.
Yushu counted seven of them in total—each one radiating the strength of a body forging realm fighter.
How the hell does a small sect have this many puppets?!
The sheer quantity of them was absurd.
He had assumed that the sect backing the Tang Clan was insignificant.
Now?
It was clear that he'd made a grave mistake.
A sharp crackle made his heart lurch—
He turned just in time to see the lightning cultivator charging toward him again, eyes locked onto him like a predator moving in for the kill.
Shit! No time!
Desperately, Yushu punched the ground.
[Earthquake Fissure!]
A jagged crack split open the road, forcing the lightning cultivator to leap into the air.
But that brief moment—that single heartbeat—was all Yushu needed to push himself back to his feet.
His mind raced as he wondered what to do. Even if he somehow held his ground against this lightning bastard, how the hell was he supposed to deal with the puppets?
And more importantly—
Who the hell was controlling them?
Yushu barely had a moment to think.
A surge of lightning arced toward him, crackling like an unchained storm. Reacting on instinct, he forced qi into his skin—[Earthen Bulwark!]
Stone encased his body, forming a protective shell—But it wasn’t enough. The lightning tore through, searing his flesh beneath the cracks. His knees buckled. His muscles spasmed.
Move!
He bit down on his tongue, the sharp pain grounding him just enough to keep his stance from collapsing completely.
His opponent was already closing in.
Damn it! No choice!
Yushu poured qi into the ring on his finger.
A silver spear materialized in his grasp, shocking the lightning cultivator whose eyes widened in shock.
Too fucking late.
Yushu thrust forward.
The tip of the spear pierced through his opponent’s arm, slipping past the thin sheen of his defensive technique.
The lightning Cultivator gritted his teeth and staggered back.
But within moments, the starlight barrier flickered back to life, repairing itself.
Tch. Not enough.
Yushu refused to give him time to recover.
He lunged forward, spear cutting through the air in rapid succession, aiming to break through the defense completely.
But the lightning cultivator was too fast.
With lightning coiling around his legs, he blurred out of reach again and again.
Yushu growled in frustration.
He had heard of lightning cultivators being nimble, but this was ridiculous.
“Enough with the tricks. It’s time to end this.”
The words sent a chill down Yushu’s spine.
For the first time, the lightning cultivator stopped moving. Looking at Yushu as if—as if he was just a dead man standing. His stance held firm. Yushu didn’t hesitate. He drove his spear straight toward his chest.
It landed.
For a fraction of a second, Yushu thought he had won.
Then he saw it—
The defensive energy converging.
It wrapped around his spear, locking it in place.
His eyes widened.
Shit.
“NO!”
He tried to pull back, but it was already too late.
Lightning surged from his opponent’s body, a storm condensed into a single devastating blast. Electricity ripped through him, burning, tearing, forcing his body into violent spasms. Yushu tried to form a final rock armor—but the moment it took shape, it shattered.
His vision blurred. His body collapsed.
The last thing he saw—
Was the lightning cultivator’s impassive gaze and his stupid smirk. He wished he could wipe that clean off of his face. But— but, his eyelids grew heavy.
Darkness overtook him.
***
Chen Ren exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His body still thrummed with the lingering aftershocks of battle, muscles taut from the strain.
He glanced down at his side—a clean puncture wound, courtesy of the spear that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
The injury wasn't deep, and the bleeding had already stopped.
Still… he hadn’t seen that attack coming.
It was a mistake. One that had cost him blood.
His expression darkened for a brief moment, then he let out a quiet breath, dismissing the thought. His body would recover. Instead, his gaze drifted downward, settling on the unconscious figure sprawled across the ground.
The man’s breathing was ragged, his body still twitching slightly from the aftermath of lightning coursing through his meridians.
But Chen Ren’s attention wasn’t on his injuries.
It was on the ring—a simple, unadorned band of dull silver wrapped around the cultivator’s index finger.
There were no gems, no engravings, nothing that would make it stand out to the untrained eye. But Chen Ren knew better. Even without touching it, he could feel the faint pulse of qi emanating from within and the spear appearing out of nowhere already confirmed what the ring was.
A spatial artifact.
A coveted treasure.
He knelt down, slipping the ring from the man’s finger, rolling it between his own.
Up close, the material was smooth, cool against his fingertips.
There were faint etchings along the inner rim, almost invisible, but undoubtedly part of the formation that allowed it to store objects beyond normal space.
He pressed a thread of his qi into the ring, testing its reaction.
Would it recognize him? Or was it bound by the previous owner’s will?
Chen Ren furrowed his brows as his qi failed to make anything happen. The ring was apparently qi bound.
He clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing slightly. That complicated things.
Before he could think further, footsteps echoed behind him, deliberate and unhurried.
He turned his head, his guard still raised, but when the figure approached and reached up to remove his mask, a familiar face was revealed.
Hong Yi.
His silver eyes glinted with amusement as he glanced around at the unconscious bodies littering the battlefield, then let out a low chuckle.
"That was a great fight," Hong Yi said, stepping closer. "I can’t believe things went this easy."
Chen Ren smirked. "That’s because we planned for it. Expected everything."
His gaze shifted to the fallen cultivators around them.
"And we got our prize."
He lifted the ring between his fingers before gesturing at the defeated men.
Hong Yi’s eyes immediately locked onto the ring, a flicker of greed flashing through them before he let out a thoughtful hum.
"A spatial ring?"
Chen Ren nodded. "Yeah. And big enough to house a spear."
Hong Yi’s expression changed slightly at that. "A ring that size…" he muttered, rubbing his chin. "It’d be worth at least a dozen spirit stones. Maybe more, depending on its size and functions. But they’re really rare." He gave Chen Ren a sidelong glance. "Are you planning to use it for yourself?"
Chen Ren twirled the ring once before sighing. "I can’t seem to open it. Looks like it’s qi-bound." His eyes flickered with consideration. "I’ll need someone like Qing He or Yalan to go over it before I can use it. But yeah, it’s a nice reward for all the trouble." He smirked, tucking the ring into his robes. "I’m sure the Xueying Clan gave it to this guy." His gaze drifted over the unconscious man before him. "Wonder how they’ll react when they realize they lost both him and the ring."
Comments
Storyflower
I guess they can't risk word going back that there is a puppet master who is a sect member.
