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Dao of money Chapter 79
🕑 Added 2025-03-03 17:07:25 +0000 UTCChapter 79
The air felt heavy, pressing down on him like an invinsible force of qi suppression. The room around Chen Ren closed around him, making his lungs tighten—
Of course, it was just an illusion—no one in the room was actively using their cultivation against him. But the sheer tension hanging in the atmosphere made it feel like he was being suffocated.
The people sitting inside looked like they had just witnessed their ancestors being cleaved apart by a vengeful cultivator. Faces were taut, eyes grim, and not a single person spoke.
Beside him, Zhu Yuan—his first companion in the clan—sat in an uncharacteristically stiff posture. The fatty, who would normally be gnawing on something or drinking even in the most serious of situations, had lost all traces of his appetite. His plump fingers were curled into fists on his lap, his gaze darting uneasily around the room before landing on one man in particular.
At the very center of the gathering sat Zhu Gang, patriarch of the Zhu Clan.
The old man’s presence alone was enough to silence a room. His long, snow-white beard contrasted against the deep red of his high-collared robes, embroidered with golden flame patterns that curled like dancing fire along the sleeves. His hair, streaked with silver, was tied into a strict topknot, and though he sat motionless, his aura crackled with restrained power.
He was a peak foundation establishment realm cultivator.
He wasn’t the strongest cultivator Chen Ren had ever met, but in this room, he was an immovable mountain. The half-lidded eyes that peered out beneath thick, furrowed brows seemed to weigh every person present, stripping them down to their very bones.
Half of the tension in the room came solely from him.
The rest was from the subject at hand.
Seated around the patriarch were other elders of the Zhu Clan—old men draped in muted but luxurious robes, their faces lined with years of experience and scheming. Their presence was nothing more than a formality. Zhu Gang was the only one who mattered.
And Chen Ren?
He was the only outsider here.
The oddity in the room.
The one who could easily be kicked out if necessary.
Finally, after a long silence, Zhu Gang moved. He lifted a piece of parchment between his fingers, shaking it slightly before his tiny eyes locked onto Chen Ren.
“This letter…” He huffed. “Are you sure it’s true, Daoist Chen? My daughter could not have possibly involved herself with a… with a slave.”
He said as if he couldn’t believe it himself.
Chen Ren’s eyes flicked to the letter—the one he had handed over himself. One of the latest ones Zhu Lingyan had written for the blacksmith.
And the very thing that had dragged him into this storm.
Zhu Gang’s sharp gaze remained fixed on Chen Ren, his fingers tightening around the letter.
“Yes, it’s true, Patriarch Zhu,” Chen Ren said. “I would never do anything to tarnish the relationship between the Divine Coin Sect and the Zhu Clan.”
He gave Zhu Yuan a glance. The fatty visibly flinched but quickly nodded, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Yes, that’s true, Patriarch,” Zhu Yuan confirmed.
Chen Ren continued, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “I was simply fortunate that one of the sect disciples I brought with me happened to come across it and delivered it to me. I consulted Zhu Yuan the moment I learned of it, knowing how serious the matter could become.”
Zhu Gang exhaled sharply, as if reigning in his emotions. His qi, which had been rippling slightly in agitation, steadied. After a moment, he spoke, his voice colder but more composed.
“You did the right thing, Daoist Chen. On behalf of the Zhu Clan, I thank you.”
Chen Ren nodded. “I understand, Patriarch Zhu. I originally come from a clan as well. I know how these things work.” A beat of silence followed. Then, he carefully added, “May I ask what you intend to do with the slave?”
The moment the words left his lips, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. The patriarch’s already sharp eyes turned frigid, his aura shifting like a storm ready to break.
The pressure of his qi surged, leaking into the room in droves, heavy and suffocating. Zhu Yuan stiffened beside Chen Ren, his knuckles white as he clenched his hands under the table. The elders, too, remained silent, impassive, but none dared to intervene.
Finally, when Zhu Gang spoke, his voice sounded like steel.
“Obviously, his head will fall.”
His words carried absolute finality, no hesitation whatsoever.
“He has tried to manipulate my daughter. For that, I will ensure he suffers a fate worse than death.”
Chen Ren had expected this.
From the moment he revealed the letter, he had known that Zhu Gang would demand blood. He had thought and calculated every reaction the patriarch might have, and so far, the man had acted exactly as he predicted.
But no matter how expected, Chen Ren couldn’t allow Feiyu to die here.
He took a steady breath and spoke before anyone else could.
“But, Patriarch Zhu…” He paused deliberately, letting his words linger. “We have only found a letter from the Young Miss.”
The patriarch’s qi wavered slightly.
“Nowhere in the letter does it say that the slave coerced her in any way.” Chen Ren met the old man’s gaze evenly, as if he weren’t standing against a peak foundation establishment cultivator who could crush him with a flick of his fingers. “Wouldn’t such a punishment be unbefitting of a righteous cultivator such as yourself?”
A heavy silence gripped the room.
For the first time, something flickered in the patriarch’s eyes—whether it was irritation, consideration, or something else, Chen Ren couldn’t yet tell.
But he knew one thing.
He had his attention.
Zhu Gang’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Are you suggesting that my daughter was the one who tried to seduce a mere slave?”
Suddenly, he felt the man’s anger reeking through his voice, and immediately, murmurs spread through the room like ripples in a pond. The elders exchanged glances, some frowning, others whispering under their breath.
Beside Chen Ren, Zhu Yuan went pale, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped sweat from his forehead. But Chen Ren remained calm. He had dealt with powerful figures before—prideful, overbearing, quick to judge. This was no different.
“No, I don’t mean that, Patriarch Zhu,” he said evenly. “As I just stated, we don’t have any evidence that the slave had any involvement at all.” He met the patriarch’s glare without flinching. “And a righteous cultivator does not make hasty decisions. A wise man such as yourself would surely know that.”
The tension in the room thickened. Zhu Gang’s expression twisted into clear displeasure, but he didn’t lash out this time. He stared at Chen Ren for several long moments, as if weighing his words.
Internally, Chen Ren smiled.
His plan was working.
By presenting the evidence of an illicit affair directly to the patriarch, he had made himself important—not just some merchant, but a sect-affiliated individual bringing critical information to the clan. And he knew from his research that Zhu Gang prided himself on his upright nature, always preaching about the righteous path.
Cornering a self-proclaimed righteous man with his own beliefs was a strategy that rarely failed.
In the end, Zhu Gang let out a slow breath and gave a curt nod.
“Let’s hear both sides, then.”
With that, he gestured toward one of the elders. “Bring the slave.”
The elder rose immediately, leaving the room. A tense silence followed as they waited, the pressure lingering thick in the air.
Chen Ren simply folded his hands together, waiting patiently.
Before long, footsteps echoed outside the hall, and then—
Feiyu entered.
The blacksmith’s face was pale, his steps hesitant. The moment he stepped into the room, his eyes flickered to the gathered elders, to Zhu Gang sitting at the center, and then to Chen Ren. His expression twisted with barely restrained fear, and without a word—
He fell to his knees.
Before he could even properly bow, a surge of qi filled the room.
Chen Ren’s eyes sharpened as he watched it happen. Zhu Gang’s energy moved with frightening precision, pressing down on Feiyu like an invisible mountain. The blacksmith barely had time to react before his forehead slammed against the floor, hard enough to make a sharp cracking sound echo through the room.
He was forced into a deep kowtow, his body trembling under the sheer weight of the patriarch’s qi.
Chen Ren exhaled through his nose. He had expected something—but to see it in action was another matter entirely.
Now, the real game would begin.
“Feiyu!”
The patriarch’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. “I know your tainted bloodline has been one of criminals, but still, we gave you shelter, work, and even helped in your cultivation! And in return, you dare put your hands on my daughter?”
His qi flared once more, sending a suffocating weight pressing down on Feiyu’s trembling form.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
Feiyu’s breath came out ragged as he gulped. His face was ashen, his entire body shaking under the patriarch’s gaze.
“P-Patriarch Zhu,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “I had no hand in this. It was the Young Miss who sent me those letters, but I never reciprocated. Please… spare me.”
Silence filled the hall for a brief, suffocating moment.
Then—
“So you mean to tell me it was my daughter who sought out a mere slave like you? That she—she would lower herself to such filth?!”
Zhu Gang’s fury exploded. His chair screeched against the floor as he shot up, his qi surging violently. Without hesitation, he raised a foot to kick Feiyu straight in the chest—
But before he could, several elders moved at once, stepping forward to block his advance. Chen Ren followed suit, shifting slightly to stand in the way.
“Patriarch!” one of the elders urged, holding out a hand. “Please, calm yourself!”
It all happened too quickly. Zhu Gang’s eyes blazed with rage, but even he wasn’t so far gone as to ignore the restraining hands of his own clan members.
Feiyu remained on his knees, his head pressed against the cold stone floor, trembling so hard that it looked like he might collapse at any moment. His lips moved soundlessly, as if searching for words—but none came.
It was all too silent; the unspoken tension warming up the room alongside the patriarch’s qi that was heavy in the air.
Finally, Chen Ren exhaled softly. He had seen enough. “Patriarch Zhu, as I have said, Feiyu has not acted upon any of this. The situation can still be salvaged—without anyone dying.”
Zhu Gang slowly turned his gaze toward him. “Daoist Chen, I do not see how this matter can be resolved without this slave losing his life. And why, exactly, are you speaking in his favor?”
His voice held suspicion now, eyes narrowing at Chen Ren as if seeing him in a new light.
Chen Ren met his gaze evenly.
“I am not taking any sides. Like you and me, Feiyu is a cultivator. That does not change simply because he is a slave.” He let the words sink in before adding, “By his association with the Zhu Clan, he is counted among the righteous path cultivators as well. I merely believe that one should not be condemned without guilt.”
The room fell silent once more.
Zhu Gang’s qi still crackled faintly in the air, but something shifted in his face. The man was thinking about what Chen Ren had just said. It was good. It was an opening of sorts. Chen Ren hung onto that hope.
“Then… all of this was done by my daughter?”
Chen Ren shook his head immediately. “I don’t think the Young Miss even realizes what she’s doing.”
“What?”
“In my time here, I have learned that she is kind. She looks out for others—mortal or cultivator alike. Her heart is pure.”
Zhu Gang scoffed. “So what?”
“I have heard tales that she has gone out of her way to help servants in need, feeling bad for them. If I may speak plainly—Feiyu, the slave, is not treated well by anyone. In the few days I have been here, I have seen him shouted at, ridiculed, and even beaten under the guise of ‘sparring.’ All while the Young Miss Lingyang was in attendance.”
His gaze swept across the gathered cultivators. “I am certain there have been many such instances before my arrival.”
Another long moment of silence passed between them.
Chen Ren allowed the weight of his words to settle before delivering the final push. “Don’t you think that, seeing such treatment, the Young Miss—being as kind as she is—felt bad and tried to make amends in her own way? To compensate for the behavior of the younger generation of your family?”
The elders glanced at each other, the earlier tension in the room shifting into contemplation. A few muttered among themselves, their voices hushed yet audible.
“That… that could be true, Patriarch.” One elder hesitantly spoke.
“Young Miss Lingyang is softhearted,” another murmured. “Perhaps she saw the way Feiyu was treated and acted out of pity.”
Chen Ren watched them carefully before nodding. “Yes. Oftentimes, emotions become tangled. We mistake one feeling for another. Sympathy can be confused with affection, especially at her age.”
The murmuring grew louder. Some elders exchanged knowing looks, others sighed in realization.
Zhu Gang remained still. His jaw was clenched, his fists tightly clenched till his knuckles turned white. The fury in his eyes hadn’t vanished, but Chen Ren could say that the man was hesitant. Therefore, he waited. He looked at Feiyu, whose head still remained bowed. Good. He was playing his part well.
Meanwhile, the patriarch took time to consider his words. If Chen Ren had judged him correctly, then Zhu Gang’s love for his daughter would make him find excuses for her behavior rather than outright punish her. And if that happened, then the entire incident would be reframed as a simple misunderstanding—one where his daughter had only mistaken sympathy for affection.
That meant she would escape punishment. Fortunately.
From what Chen Ren had heard, Lingyan was a talented cultivator. Even if the Zhu Clan attempted to marry her off to save face, she had a few years to resist. Cultivation always took priority, and most cultivators delayed marriage until their progress slowed.
Zhu Gang’s nose twitched.
“Even if Lingyan is not at fault, it does not change the fact that a scandal was about to erupt. Punishment must be dealt. And what if she does not let go of her sympathy? Her infatuation? There is a bright future ahead of her, and yet she would risk destroying the reputation of our clan over a mere slave.” His eyes turned cold as he glared down at Feiyu. “This slave still needs to die.”
Feiyu shuddered. His hands formed into fists by the ground. A few elders nodded in agreement, their expressions solemn.
Just as the tension reached a peak, Chen Ren spoke again.
“I believe killing him would be detrimental in the long term, Patriarch.”
“What did you just say?”
The patriarch’s gaze snapped toward him, along with the elders’. Chen Ren remained calm. He had to. If he let himself feel at least a small ounce of fear, everyone would know.
“I do not mind Feiyu being killed here. He is a slave of the Zhu Clan. You all have the right to do with him as you wish. But consider this—will killing him truly make the Young Miss forget her infatuation?”
That made a few elders frown.
One of them finally spoke. “And why would it not?”
Chen Ren exhaled slightly, as if exasperated. “Think about it. Feiyu never leaves the clan grounds. He is a blacksmith, dedicated to his craft. As a cultivator, his body is sturdy—he won’t simply drop dead.” He swept his gaze over them before delivering the key point. “If he suddenly dies, will she not find it suspicious? I mean, Feiyu is already mistreated. If Lingyan discovers that the clan killed him, what do you think will happen?” He let the question hang in the air before answering it himself.
“Her infatuation will turn to anger. Resentment.”
He looked directly at Zhu Gang. “And that anger will not be directed at Feiyu. It will be at the clan.”
Zhu Gang propped down in his chair, and let his fingers dig into the armrest. Chen Ren could see the hesitation beginning to form in his expression.
“If she begins to resent you,” Chen Ren continued, “she will be harder to control. And if she rebels against the clan, then all of this would have been for nothing.”
Chen Ren turned back to the patriarch. “I’m sorry if I’m way over my boundaries but In my sect, I have seen many younger disciples lose their way like this. I don’t want the Young Miss to go through the same. That is why I’m telling you all this.”
Zhu Gang narrowed his eyes. “Then we won’t let anyone know of his death.”
Chen Ren shook his head. “Secrets always find their way out. She can always make a guess and confront someone. And when that happens, it’ll be difficult to maintain the lie.”
One of the elders scoffed. “Then is there any better way? Tell me so. If not, this man is surely losing his life tonight by the patriarch’s hands.”
Chen Ren frowned, as if deep in thought. He let a few moments pass before exhaling. “I have a way.”
The room’s atmosphere shifted. Every eye turned to him, waiting.
Zhu Gang’s gaze sharpened. “What is it?”
Chen Ren glanced at Feiyu, still kneeling with his head down, before speaking. “Banish him.”
Murmurs erupted in the hall.
Chen Ren continued, ignoring all the raising voices. He couldn’t even tell if they were opposing his idea or raising concerns, but he ignored it. “If you send him away, the Young Miss will be unable to hold onto her infatuation. You can tell her that he was caught stealing and was cast out of the clan.”
An elder frowned. “Why would we sully our own reputation by saying a slave stole from us?”
Chen Ren’s lips curled into a slight smirk. “Why would it sully your reputation? He already has the blood of a criminal in him, doesn’t he? A slave with a tainted lineage—no one would doubt the story.”
The patriarch’s fingers tapped against his chair. The logic was sound.
Chen Ren pressed on. “Even if the Young Miss grieves for a while, she will eventually recover. And if you’re still worried about him ever returning, make him swear a qi oath to stay away from the clan forever.”
The room fell into silence once more.
Chen Ren took a step back. “Of course, the final decision rests with you, Patriarch. I’m just an outsider offering my opinion.”
Zhu Gang’s expression remained unreadable. His fingers stilled. Slowly, he leaned back, exhaling. “We respect your opinion, Doaist Chen. A decision will be made after careful thought.”
With that, he went silent, lost in contemplation.
Chen Ren didn’t let his expression shift, but his heartbeat quickened. Would the patriarch take his advice, or would Feiyu lose his life right here? It was a matter of word; word from the patriarch.
The uncertainty gnawed at him. He kept his breathing steady, waiting. It felt like forever. But he knew at any second, the patriarch would—
Zhu Gang finally opened his mouth.
Comments
Harley Shockley
You left us on a cliffhanger, you bastard.
