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Dao of money Chapter 131
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 12:39:32 +0000 UTCChapter 131
Throughout the meeting with Hun Tianzhi, Chen Ren couldn’t shake the feeling that the old man in front of him was misunderstanding something. He didn’t bother asking about it or correcting him, though. From the moment Chen Ren brought up the idea of acquisition, Hun Tianzhi’s eyes had shifted—first flashing with anger, then narrowing with caution, softening into respect when Chen Ren talked about the elders in his sect, and finally settling into something close to realization when Darkmoon Sect entered the conversation.
The old man likely hadn’t noticed Chen Ren watching him, but it was hard to miss. His smile never wavered, he could tell it was a mask, but every time he paused to think or took another sip of his tea (which was a lot throughout the hour long conversation), something flickered in his eyes. They were small shifts but they told Chen Ren enough.
Still, he was glad. Even if he hadn’t yet looked into Jadefire Hall’s full resources, Hun Tianzhi didn’t strike him as the sort of man who’d be difficult to work with. Before, the old man would’ve laughed at the proposal the moment it left Chen Ren’s lips. But now? Now he was clearly considering it.
And that was a win in itself.
By the time their tea was finished, Hun Tianzhi confirmed Chen Ren’s growing impression of him—offering a tour of the sect with the kind of casual hospitality that didn’t feel forced. They found Yalan, Tang Boming, and Tao Liu waiting outside by a small pond. From there, the group followed Hun Tianzhi deeper into the sect grounds, heading toward the Jadefire Hall’s herbal gardens.
It was there that the rumours proved true.
Hun Tianzhi surely wasn’t the ordinary sect leader one would expect—he was an alchemy scholar at heart. The moment they stepped between rows of deftly cultivated plants, the old man’s voice came alive. He stopped beside a tall stalk with thin crimson-veined leaves and began speaking at length about it.
“As you know,” he began, “Soothroot leaves are often used to feed young spiritual beasts that cultivators rear. Most think it’s simply because the creatures like the taste, but that’s only part of it.” He crouched beside one of the pots, brushing a thumb across the leaf gently. “These leaves have a compound in them, nearly impossible to extract—that naturally calms aggression and encourages docility. Makes the beasts easier to train… even friendlier.”
He looked up, eyes twinkling slightly. “Now, it’s very, very difficult to use them in alchemy. Because they’re very volatile. They break down fast and don’t react well to spiritual heat. Only beast bodies can seem to handle it. But Tao Liu here—” he turned, gesturing at his disciple, who stood behind him with hands politely clasped, “—is cultivating a small batch for me. I’m working on a potion that might be the first to properly use it. It could revolutise alchemy.”
Chen Ren nodded, not for the first time. This was the thirteenth rare plant today. And there was one thing in common for every plant—they all came with their own story. “So, it's a potion that affects hormones. Hmm,” he said, more to himself more than others.
“Hormones?” Hun Tianzhi’s confused voice dragged him out of his thoughts.
Hormones… Right. He doesn’t know what it means. Chen Ren gave a slight chuckle. “Think of them as… chemical messengers inside our body. They handle a lot of things—growth, energy, even mood. What you’re trying to make might influence those, push a person’s emotions one way or another.”
A light nictitate in the old man’s eyes and for a brief moment, he looked less like a weary sect leader and more like a child hearing a new bedtime story.
“Huh… Fascinating,” he whispered. He looked at Chen Ren directly when he spoke next. “You have quite extensive and mysterious knowledge, Sect Leader Chen. I would love to learn more about it, if you’re willing.”
Chen Ren simply smiled. “Just things I picked up from someone wiser.”
Hun Tianzhi nodded again, slowly this time, as if confirming something in his mind. He didn’t ask further, and Chen Ren didn’t correct him.
They left the herbal garden behind and began the climb up one of the higher ridges. Different sizes of stone steps curved around the slope, leaning to chambers that carved directly into the cliffside.
“This is where our disciples come to practice pill-making,” the old man said as they reached the plateau. “Most of the chambers are empty now.”
Chen Ren looked at the passing doors and his thoughts turned to what he wanted to ask from Hun Tianzhi. It was a good time to learn more about the debt that he got to know from Tang Boming.
“Can I ask you something?” he said in a respectful tone. “If it won’t offend you.”
“Of course, Sect Leader Chen. I’m not one of those wrinkled fossils who take offence at every word. Speak freely.”
Chen Ren nodded once. “How did your sect end up with such a heavy debt?”
Hun Tianzhi’s steps slowed. His smile didn’t vanish, but something in it dimmed. “Ah…” he murmured, glancing toward the clouds drifting past the peaks. “I figured you must’ve heard whispers in the city.”
“I’d rather hear it from you,” Chen Ren said simply.
Before Hun Tianzhi could respond, a voice piped up from behind.
“It’s all my fault,” Tau Liu said, lowering his head. His hands clenched the helm of his robes. “If I hadn’t brought that man to Master…”
Hun Tianzhi stopped in his tracks and turned, the lines around his mouth deepening. “Tau Liu,” he said firmly, “you need to stop carrying that blame. You didn’t know. None of us did.”
“But I trusted him,” the disciple muttered, still not meeting anyone’s gaze. “He said he could help, and I believed him.”
Chen Ren watched them, a small furrow forming on his brow. The pieces didn’t quite connect yet. “What happened?” he asked, glancing between the two.
Hun Tianzhi looked ahead again and exhaled slowly. All of a sudden, he sounded like a man who kept a secret hidden for so long and was reluctant to talk about it.
“It was two years ago,” he began. “We were finally making headway in Broken Ridge City. Disciples were refining pills daily, our name was beginning to matter. I started thinking… maybe this dream of mine, this haven of pure alchemical pursuit, might actually become real.”
He paused, stepping over a flat stone, then continued.
“But peace never lasts in this world. The Darkmoon Sect saw us growing and didn’t like it. One by one, the hunting teams we’d made deals to gather herbs and other ingredients with started backing out. I went to ask them why.” Hun Tianzhi’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but memory. “They wouldn’t say much. Just that it wasn’t convenient anymore.
“We had no choice. My disciples had to go outside the city, into the wilds, to gather ingredients themselves. That was when the trouble really began.”
Hun Tianzhi exhaled through his nose, the lines on his face deepening as he spoke again.
“After that,” he said quietly, “Darkmoon Sect stopped hiding their hands. I’m certain now—there were already spies in our ranks. They began turning hearts slowly. Gentle words, promises of better resources, recognition… This and that. One by one, disciples I had taught with my own hands left. Some didn’t even say goodbye.”
He looked up at the narrow path winding ahead of them.
“Supplies dried up soon after,” Hun Tianzhi continued. “The merchants stopped any business with us. The few who did… well, they wanted prices only a fool would accept. And you’ve seen it—our land’s not under a proper qi vein. Our herbs were already growing slow. With no materials, our production dropped. And with that, our income.
“Trying to get suppliers from other places didn’t work until one day.”
Tau Liu spoke then. “It all started with me,” he said, voice tight. “I met him first.”
Hun Tianzhi turned, shaking his head, but the disciple pressed on, eyes darkened by guilt.
“I was in the Wild lands,” Tau Liu said. “The outer edges, near the old ruins. I’d gone out hunting—trying to gather rare ingredients myself. Stupid idea, I know. I was already injured when a xila worm showed up.”
Chen Ren blinked. Xila worms were huge caterpillar-like beasts, usually twice the size of a horse, covered in bristles that sprayed acidic mist. He had heard about them from Tang Boming when he had asked about the dangers of the wild lands. Fighting one alone in open land was a death sentence.
Tau Liu nodded, seeing the recognition in Chen Ren’s face. “It nearly tore me in two. But then he showed up—A meridian expansion realm cultivator. Killed the worm like it was nothing. I was… I was grateful. He even helped treat my injuries.”
He shook his head slowly.
“We talked,” Tau Liu went on. “I told him about the sect, about our struggles and why I was there. And he said he could help. He’d been living away from sects, some hidden trail within the empire. A hermit, basically. He said he was looking for someone who could make a peak earth-grade pill for him—the Silver Root Ascension Pill.”
Chen Ren stiffened slightly. That pill was no joke. Extremely complex, incredibly rare and one used for breakthroughs as implied in its name.
“That should’ve been the first red flag,” Tau Liu muttered. “Someone like him could’ve just gone to a Guardian Sect. They’d have given it for a favour. Or even auctioned one if he offered enough. Why would a man like that come to Broken Ridge of all places?”
“Tau Liu brought the man to me,” Hun Tianzhi said, his hands behind his back. “He was polite, well-spoken. Carried himself with the calm of someone used to strength. Said he was interested in a long-term contract… if I could make the Silver Root Ascension Pill for him. He gave me half the ingredients,” Hun Tianzhi continued. “Rare ones, ones you can’t just fake. That’s what convinced me. Said he was still searching for the other half but if I could get them myself, he’d pay me in full the moment I gave him the finished pill.”
Chen Ren’s brows rose slightly, but he still didn’t interrupt.
“I used what little spirit stones I had left,” the old man said with a soft, tired chuckle. “Even called in favours from old friends. I sent word to the markets in the capital. Took a loan from Broken Ridge’s merchant guild. All of it to make one pill.”
Chen Ren didn’t need to hear the rest.
He turned to the man. “But he didn’t buy the pill. Or pay for the materials.”
“No,” he said. “He took the pill. Told me it wasn’t the quality he needed. That it wouldn’t help his breakthrough.”
“And you couldn’t make him pay,” Chen Ren added, though it wasn’t a question.
The old man gave a slow nod. “I tried. Even shouted at him in front of the sect gates. He just looked at me like I was a barking dog. I knew I couldn’t win—not against someone like him. He was stronger. Much stronger.”
A long silence followed as they reached the outer walkway of the alchemy chambers. Disciples had once filled the halls here, Chen Ren could tell from the setup—ventilation channels, fire-control arrays, but now, the place was undisturbed.
“I even wrote to the Emperor’s Office,” Hun Tianzhi added, almost absently. “Filed an official report. But… they don’t bother with things like this. Two cultivators fighting over a failed deal isn’t important enough for them. Not when no cities were razed. The City Lord’s office gave me the same answer.”
Chen Ren sighed. “I’m sorry that happened.” Truly, that was unfortunate. “Do you think… the Darkmoon Sect—”
Hun Tianzhi didn’t hesitate. He didn’t need to.
“I think so,” he said in a flat voice. “Too many things lined up. Too many things fell apart, one after another.” He looked back at Chen Ren, somehow his face felt older than before. “They didn’t just want to beat us in alchemy. They wanted to destroy us from the root.”
The story stayed with Chen Ren long after it ended, lingering like a bitter taste on the tongue. It stayed as a cruel and clear reminder on just how far the Darkmoon Sect would go to wipe their enemies from the map. Hell, they wouldn’t stop at crushing, but at burying every trace beneath layers and layers of shame and debt.
After that, they walked slowly and silently through the corridor that led into the alchemy chambers. He looked around, large cauldrons stood like statues, spaced out in perfect symmetry. They all showed signs of wear and history–proud and clear—burnt marks, inscriptions worn soft from years of use, lids that had been clearly mended more than once. It was quite the sight.
They blended well with shelves and shelves lined on the walls stacked with different bottles, herbs, dried roots, and racks filled with tools that Chen Ren saw for the first time.
He trailed his fingers across one heavy cauldron rim as he passed, feeling the deep grooves etched into the bronze. It was old—older than the sect itself, maybe. And well-used.
“They’re not bought, you know,” Hun Tianzhi said beside him, voice light with a hint of pride. “I earned every one of these.”
Chen Ren turned to glance at the old man, who had his hands tucked behind him, eyes half-closed like he was remembering something from far away.
“First one was won during the Firewind Alchemy Meet in Green Vale,” the old man continued, nodding at a squat red cauldron with strange spirals carved around its base. “That was thirty-seven years ago. That tall one over there? From the Pill Tower Invitational. Narrowly beat a Foundation establishment realm cultivator with a lotus-based restoration pill.”
Chen Ren raised a brow, genuinely impressed. “That’s… impressive, Sect Leader Hun.”
Hun Tianzhi gave a small shrug, but the pride in his voice said enough. “There’s one more. My best one. Silver-bodied, resistant to most things that could break a cauldron. But I keep it in my private chamber.”
Chen Ren caught the unspoken words easily. He nodded with a small smile. “Then I’ll look forward to seeing it someday. But even all of these have impressed me a lot.”
As he turned away from the rows of cauldrons, his gaze swept over the space again, mind ticking rapidly. Even if they didn’t have many disciples left, the chamber itself was worth keeping. With some refurbishing, maybe a stronger qi-gathering array, it could be converted into a proper research and refining lab. The location was a problem—it wasn’t exactly close to the Divine Coin Sect’s base—but for production purposes, it was perfect. It could work like a satellite branch, a supply and a research and development hub just for Broken Ridge City.
He mulled over that silently before turning to the old man again. “If I may ask… how many disciples are still here?”
“Ten,” Hun said. “Including Tau Liu.”
Chen Ren simply nodded, showing no change in expression. That wasn’t a problem—if anything, it made things easier. He didn’t have the space to suddenly house dozens of disciples, and those that had stayed must have belief in Hun Tianzhi, so he wouldn’t have to deal with any resistance that came from taking over a sect.
He stepped back from one of the central cauldrons, folding his hands behind him. “Your sect has impressed me a great deal, Sect Leader Hun. If I may be direct—what do you truly think of Divine Coin Sect acquiring Jadefire Hall?”
Hun Tianzhi didn’t answer right away. And Tau Liu looked between the two of them, clearly puzzled. His brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, sensing this wasn’t a conversation meant for him just yet.
Hun Tianzhi, however, finally gave a small nod. “It does interest me,” he said slowly. “Though I’ll admit, I still have some… trepidations about how it might work.”
His gaze drifted out of the chamber window for a brief moment, as if pulled back to some far-off memory.
“My time in another sect, back when I was a younger man… It wasn't exactly pleasant. I’ll also have to ask for my disciples’ thoughts before I agree to anything. They’re few, but they’ve stayed through the worst. Their opinion matters.”
“Yes, that’s fair. I wouldn’t expect anything less. Before I leave, I’d like for us to sit and go over everything in detail—your sect’s debt, my plan for how the acquisition would work, and how we’ll take a slice of the pill market in Broken Ridge City.”
Hun Tianzhi frowned at that. “You’re very confident, Sect Leader Chen. You realize I haven’t said yes yet.”
“I know. I’m just very good at negotiations. You’ll see—within the next couple of hours.”
