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Dao of money Chapter 141
🕑 Added 2025-07-18 08:58:00 +0000 UTCChapter 141
Yeqing had come to the conclusion that the worst part of being a spy wasn’t the danger.
It was pretending to be weak.
To bow his head before every passing cultivator with a gleam of awe in his eyes. To speak like he was a speck of dust in the world, grateful for scraps. To fake exhaustion when not even his heartbeat had changed.
And today, dragging a wagon up a mountain pass as a mortal servant, he was forced to lean into every bit of that act.
The mountain bull brayed, hooves scraping against the dirt as the wagon rocked violently—its back wheels stuck in a shallow pit carved by old rain. Beside him, Zixin—one of the few mortals who spoke to “Han Fei” regularly—braced his shoulder against the wagon frame and grunted, “Damn thing’s stuck again.”
Yeqing stepped up, carefully gauging the pressure in his limbs, pushing just enough to seem strained but not suspicious. Together, they forced the wagon forward with a lurch and a creak of old wood.
Zixin wiped his brow with a sleeve. “I’ll fill the hole on the way back. Only an hour left until Jadefire Hall.”
Yeqing nodded, saying nothing. He couldn’t afford to ask questions—Han Fei had apparently made this trip before. All he could do was follow Zixin’s lead, respond with vague affirmations, and pray the man didn’t ask for memories he didn’t have.
The wagon rolled forward again, pulled by the snorting bull, its iron-tipped hooves clacking against the stone. Yeqing walked alongside, every step outwardly casual, but internally, he ran through every contingency.
The mission was simple—slip away when they reached the hall, find the alchemy lab or the storage space, observe whatever he could of the pill crafting process, and leave. The sect’s survival might depend on it.
But if he was caught?
He doubted Jadefire Hall had powerful detection arrays. They were too poor, too downtrodden.
Still, if they did… he'd have no choice but to fight his way out.
And then the real problems would begin.
Last he had heard, Jadefire Hall was deep in debt. Even with the Divine Pill Apothecary now working well in the city, word from Elder Tiefang was that most of their profits were still being funneled into repaying creditors.
Still, debt or not, this was their main sect ground—there had to be protections around the alchemy halls. He was certain of it.
That said, he had his own ways. Stealth techniques. Methods passed down by the sect that allowed him to slip through detection without alerting basic qi arrays. But even then, Yeqing didn’t want to risk it unless it was absolutely necessary. His orders were clear—he didn’t need the full recipe, not every step or stirring method. Just knowing the ingredients they used would be enough. Darkmoon Sect had more than enough skilled alchemists to reverse engineer the rest.
That made things easier. Not simple. But easier.
The next hour passed with the dull ache of stone under his shoes and the creak of wheels behind the snorting mountain bull. And finally, the gates of Jadefire Hall came into view.
Modest was the first word that came to his mind.
Two dark wooden gates bound by strips of reinforced metal stood in place. No guards in ornate armor, no spirit beasts perched atop the walls. Just a single bored-looking man in simple robes leaning against a spear.
The wagon stopped, and Zixin jumped down first, raising a hand in greeting as he walked up to the guard. They exchanged a few words—clearly familiar—and the guard waved them forward.
“Keep the wagon by the usual spot,” the guard said. “Senior Brother Tau Liu will come out to receive the batch.”
Yeqing gave a respectful nod and silently followed Zixin’s lead as they passed through the gates.
He tried not to wrinkle his nose as they walked deeper into the sect grounds.
The Darkmoon Sect wasn’t perfect—he knew that better than most—but Jadefire Hall felt worse. The qi here was barely above average, the soil dry, the gardens unkempt, and the buildings functional but utterly bland. There was no sense of pride, no grandeur that a sect should have carried.
No wonder they fell into debt, he thought.
They soon reached a squat, two-story structure of faded red stone with an attached pill storage annex, and Zixin pulled the wagon to a stop beside it. He moved up the stairs and knocked on the side door.
It swung open almost instantly.
A short man came out. Long black hair, half-tied back with a silver clasp. His robes were red, with the five elements woven above his chest. His posture was straight, too straight, and the way his beady eyes swept over them in an instant made Yeqing tense. He had the look of a man used to being obeyed.
Yeqing didn’t need to sense his cultivation. The moment he saw the clarity of his eyes, the stillness in his breath, he knew. This man was a strong cultivator. Mid qi refinement realm at least.
And unfortunately, one that didn't look half as lazy or distracted as Yeqing had hoped.
And Yeqing could tell this man held a place of importance in the sect because of the familiar arrogance that crept in.
Zixin, ever the loyal employee, gave a respectful bow. “Cultivator Tau Liu, it’s nice to meet you again.”
Tau Liu gave a polite nod, his eyes flicking over both of them with a look too sharp to be casual. “Please, come in.”
Yeqing knew that cultivators didn’t have the warmest aura, and it was fine. Because it didn’t matter.
The three entered through the side door into a modest but well-maintained waiting hall. There were no grand decorations—just clean mats, a simple wooden table, and a shelf stacked with scrolls and storage slips. It was what one would expect from a sect like Jadefire Hall—functional and plain.
But yes, it was just a waiting room.
Yeqing followed without a word, keeping his eyes sharp. He sat down silently and reached for the teapot on the table, pouring everyone tea. He didn't drink it himself.
Beside him, Zixin was already making himself useful, chatting with the young cultivator as if this were just another friendly transaction.
“Business is going well,” Zixin said. “Plenty of customers. Even the hunting party is gathering quite nicely—” the man went on for some more minutes.
Tau Liu gave a small, approving nod. “That’s good. It’s important to be self-sufficient, especially with the market shifting so fast. The pills are selling better than we expected. I saw the sales record.”
It was mostly useless chatter—things Yeqing already knew. He kept his head slightly bowed, playing the quiet helper role while listening for anything useful.
Then the conversation took a more interesting turn.
“I’m sorry the supply is taking longer than usual,” Tau Liu said. “We’re doing a final inspection on the latest batches. They should be delivered shortly.”
“That’s alright,” Zixin said easily. “We can wait. Did you make a bigger batch this time?”
“Yes,” Tau Liu said, placing his cup on the small table. “With the demand rising, we scaled up production accordingly. Master Hun Tianzhi has also been making strides in his research. I believe there will be good news soon.”
That caught Yeqing’s attention. Finally, finally… Something useful. Thought they’d go back and forth between the boring.
“What kind of research is it?” he asked as curiosity got the best of him. But as soon as he did, he partially regretted it.
Tau Liu’s eyes snapped to him. He might have probably misstepped.
“Apologies, but that’s not something we can disclose. Master Hun hates speaking of his work before it’s complete. Even Sect Leader Chen Ren isn’t fully aware of all the details.”
Yeqing dipped his head in a polite bow. “Forgive me. I was out of bounds.”
“It’s alright,” Tau Liu replied, sipping his tea. “I understand the curiosity. These are exciting times—not just for the sect, but for alchemy itself.”
Yeqing gave a tight nod. “I only wished to know more about the things I help sell.”
“That’s an admirable attitude.” Tau Liu’s eyes twinkled just slightly.
But Yeqing wasn’t listening anymore. He already knew he’d messed up. Even if Tau Liu wasn’t suspicious, the conversation had made it clear—he wasn’t going to learn anything else just sitting here. They were being kept in this room until the batch arrived. After that, they’d be sent straight back.
No chance to observe. No chance to snoop. So he did what he had to do.
In the middle of Zixin’s newest update about hunting permits, Yeqing suddenly stood and bowed. “Apologies, may I ask where the bathroom is?”
Tau Liu raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. “Out the door, take a right. You’ll find it along the corridor. Ask anyone if you get lost… Han Fei.”
That pause before his name—it stuck in Yeqing’s ears. He bowed again, gave a quick “I’ll be back shortly,” and slipped out of the room.
If he had turned back, he would’ve caught the small smirk on both Zixin and Tau Liu’s faces. But he didn’t.
He was already focused on where he was headed—definitely not towards the bathroom. His steps carried him quickly and he took time to look around.
The sect’s inner grounds were quieter than expected, most likely because most disciples were holed up in the alchemy halls. That worked in his favor.
It was time to get to work.
They had spies infiltrate Jadefire Hall in the past, so Yeqing was already familiar with most of the sect’s layout. He just had to hope they hadn’t made any major structural changes.
Without wasting a second, he activated a movement technique, his figure blurring as he darted across the inner grounds toward the building where they stored most of their alchemical materials. He had half a mind to look at the alchemy halls, but he didn’t want to risk too much. Tau Liu already looked a bit suspicious.
It didn’t take long to find it. Though his heart thudded in his ears, he observed sharply.
Crouched behind a tree, he spotted a lone disciple seated at the entrance. From the man’s posture and the faint aura he emanated, Yeqing could tell—body forging realm. Nothing to worry about. He could simply take him out, or sneak past him. But there was a problem: he didn’t know if there was a rear entrance or even a window he could use. He wanted to use brute force only as a last resort.
He shifted through the bushes to the right, using a stealth technique to suppress his presence. When the disciple looked away, Yeqing sprang into motion—dashing toward an adjacent building, leaping onto its roof, and then silently traversing it until he reached the top of the warehouse.
From there, he had a clearer view of the sect grounds. No cultivators in sight.
Good.
He crept to the edge, peering down. He spotted a window. But it had metal bars.
Grimacing, Yeqing hung off the edge with one hand, his body suspended midair as he reached forward and clenched his other hand around the bars. With a quiet exertion of force, he crushed them one by one. Fortunately, the metal didn’t make too much noise.
The space was narrow, barely wide enough for his shoulders. He wriggled through, careful not to make a sound. When his feet finally touched the floor, he landed in complete silence thanks to his movement technique.
The room was dark.
And he was surrounded by crates.
Yeqing crouched low between the crates. He steadied his breath in case, but managed to take a look around. Fortunately, there was no flicker of spiritual light, no humming resonance in the air—no formations, no seals, not even a simple preservation talisman. Either Jadefire Hall was burning through their stock at an absurd rate, or they were growing far too confident for their own good.
So he stood up and got to do what he was here for.
He slipped his fingers beneath the lid of the nearest crate.
A soft creak echoed through the dim storage room. Inside, bundles of dried herbs lay packed in straw. He reached in, fingers brushing the familiar texture of Jadeveil Root—its surface smooth and slightly cool to the touch. Next to it, Starpetal Leaf, thin and brittle, already shedding faint specks of silver-green dust. And at the bottom, rough chunks of Blackscale Bark, reeking faintly of burnt wood and ash.
So far, nothing unexpected. He moved on. The third crate gave him pause.
Nestled between usual leaves and powder sat a bundle of darker herbs—sharp-smelling, venom-tinted. He recognized them instantly. Nightsting Vine and Hollowberry Pulp. Even a withered stalk of Fangshade grass. Not medicinal—poisonous.
His brows twitched.
Further in, he spotted glass vials, their contents thick and dark red. Beast blood. Fresh enough that the glass was still fogged on the inside. He didn’t know the beast it came from—but the qi inside pulsed faintly, which meant it was valuable.
He slipped one vial into his robe and began memorizing the rest. No time to waste.
Crate after crate, herb after herb, his mind spun with details. When he finished, he replaced every lid with care, retraced his steps to the barred window, and slipped out, silent as a shadow.
He landed softly on the packed dirt and darted through the bushes. He had to circle around the buildings to reach where the wagon and he could already fear faint clang of crates and low voices grew louder.
He straightened his back and approached, turning the corner.
Here they are.
Zixin was already loading the one of the last two crates onto the wagon, sweat plastering his shirt to his back.
The mortal’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Yeqing. “Where were you? We needed help.”
Yeqing didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed a nearby crate and heaved it into the cart. “Sorry. I got lost.”
“Lost?” Zixin barked a laugh. “The privy was twenty steps away. What, were you sightseeing?”
Yeqing just shrugged, wiping his forehead. “Didn’t know this place was so big.”
Zixin muttered under his breath, turning back to the cart. “Good thing you didn’t wander into somewhere important…”
Yeqing didn’t say a word. Let Zixin stew in his own theories—it only made things easier for him. Together, they finished keeping everything in order inside the wagon. He noticed the qi of Tau Liu coming from behind, and they both turned around.
Tau Liu stepped forward for a final check, eyes scanning over the goods before offering a small nod.
“Seems good to go. Give my regards to Sect Leader Chen.”
Zixin gave a polite dip of his head. “We will. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Yeqing followed suit. The cultivator only gave a mere nod in return.
With that, they turned towards the gate. Two disciples—both early star qi refinement cultivators—followed and climbed onto the wagon without a word. They were guards, clearly, there to make sure the batch reaches the city. That suited Yeqing just fine.
He held his breath as they passed through the sect gates, half-expecting a shout about the broken storage window. But nothing came. No alarms, no suspicious glances. Just the rumble of wheels and the fading hum of disciples behind them.
The sun was sinking now, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. Their wagon rattled down the dirt path, back toward the city.
Zixin stayed quiet, his expression unreadable. No idle chatter. No complaints like usual. Just the occasional sigh as he kept his eyes on the road. Maybe he was upset that he wandered off. The two cultivators muttered to each other now and then, but none of it mattered to Yeqing. The less anyone spoke to him, the better.
By the time the city gates came into view, twilight had crept over the rooftops and street lanterns were beginning to flicker to life. As the wagon turned into a familiar road near the shop, Yeqing stirred and looked at Zixin.
“Can I come back later?” he asked, already stepping off.
Zixin shot him a look. “Why?”
“I need to go somewhere.”
“You’re acting weird,” the mortal muttered, brows furrowed.
Yeqing just smiled, easy and calm. “I’ll explain everything when I come back!”
He didn’t wait for permission. He turned and disappeared into the crowd, weaving between vendors and pedestrians like water slipping through cracks.
He didn’t look back.
Every second mattered now. The disguise wouldn’t hold forever—and he didn’t plan to be around when it failed.
The Darkmoon Sect awaited, and Elder Tiefang was going to be very pleased.
Comments
Vincent Mason
Probably they were led along with all the wrong ingredients.
Caleb Reusser
Did he just total miss Tau Liu calling him by his real name? Wow.
Temp Email
He just sent them on a wild goose chase didn’t he?
