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Dao of money Chapter 112
🕑 Added 2025-05-11 01:07:07 +0000 UTCChapter 112
Honestly, Chen Ren had no idea what to do with the head.
Leaving a hidden vault with the severed, still-living head of a former domain manifestation realm cultivator was never on his to-do list. Yet here he was, with the thing staring at him, occasionally muttering, and holding what could very well be the true inheritance of soul cultivation. It was the kind of bizarre twist that would’ve made him laugh if it didn’t feel so damn serious.
He kept asking himself why Anji’s father had never told her about the head. But when the man in question claimed that his own brother, Wang De, the sect’s founder, had rewritten history to make himself the sole creator of the sect’s legacy… it started to make uncomfortable sense. If that was true, then not even Anji’s father had entered the vault. No one had. For centuries, all they’d done was maintain the outer array, checking it every hundred years or so, treating it more like a sacred monument than a treasure trove.
Talking to Anji afterward confirmed most of his guesses. She said the techniques they had were passed down by word of mouth, not scripture. Rumors of soul cultivation had survived, sure—but they were like smoke without fire. If someone with unfathomable soul talent had appeared, the vault would have been opened to them. But no one had. Not in generations. And so the head remained sealed and forgotten, like a locked book no one ever tried to open.
After some basic questions, Chen Ren left the head with Anji. The man didn’t seem dangerous—just confused, bitter, and tired in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion. More like a man who’d waited too long and was still unsure what to feel. He didn’t give off killing intent, that made him believe that Anji was safe. Besides, Chen Ren had other things to do.
He didn’t want to linger in the vault. The place smelled too much like secrets and dust. So he called Yalan, instructed her to burn the bodies—both the dead cultivators and the hound, then store their ashes in a pouch to scatter on their journey.
After that, they moved to the living quarters where the last two dead cultivators had fallen. Yalan burned those too, the flames rising clean and hot under her control.
Only one task remained now, moving to visit the library.
Chen Ren walked alone toward it, following Anji’s directions. He felt a slight giddy feeling in his chest at the fact that the library mattered. Maybe even more so than the treasures they had found in the vault. He just had hoped the books he needed had survived.
Anji had warned him that some of the library’s protective arrays had failed over time. Several bookshelves near the entrance had collapsed, the books upon them rotted beyond recognition. But a decent number still stood tall, untouched by decay, and Chen Ren hoped that they held the manuals he was looking for.
On the way, he peeked into the other chambers lining the corridor. One looked like an old kitchen, complete with dusty jars and long-dry storage pots. Another resembled a storeroom, shelves still stacked with dried herbs turned to powder. A few doors led to rooms so dark even his vision couldn’t pierce them, but Yalan tensed near one and quietly whispered, “Beast guardians. They’re asleep.”
Apparently, these slumbering beasts were only meant to awaken under two conditions: if someone failed to open the vault and triggered the traps—or if someone, like Chen Ren, waltzed into their den and punched them awake like he did with the puppet.
Not in the mood for another fight, he wisely left them alone. The library door creaked as he pushed it open. And what greeted him made his eyes widen.
It was massive. Not as vast as the main vault chamber, but easily half its size, with shelves towering around him. Books stretched from wall to wall, row upon row. It felt like an ocean of forgotten knowledge. A few shelves at the front and back had collapsed, and the books there were too far gone—molded and blackened by time. But most stood intact, their spines still sharp, the array glyphs faintly humming.
“We start with earth-aspected manuals and anything on beast mastery,” Chen Ren said, his voice hushed by instinct. “But we’re taking everything.”
Yalan gave a small nod. “I’d like to read some of these too.”
He raised a brow. “I’ve never seen you read.”
She snorted. “That’s because this world’s current knowledge bores me. But this…” She gestured around. “This is legacy. Established sects sometimes have tomes that can change the way you see cultivation itself.”
Chen Ren only nodded, quietly agreeing, and moved deeper into the library.
In the center, he noticed a strange shelf—different from the others. It looked reinforced and held a strange mechanism embedded into its frame. A few books lay fallen before it, untouched by mold, but he ignored it for now.
Instead, he started scanning each shelf, pulling out books to check their contents. They were well-organized. One entire shelf was a bestiary, filled with sketches and descriptions of spirit beasts—he made a mental note to pass it to Zi Wen. Another held volumes detailing the history of the Void Blade Sect, which he now suspected was at least half false, crafted by the founder’s brother to hide the truth.
Further along, he found odd collections, manuals on herb gathering, ancient recipes written in archaic script, even an entire shelf dedicated to esoteric cultivation theories. One scroll, tucked between thicker books, claimed to teach a method to cultivate while sleeping. He chuckled at that and pocketed it for later reading.
Finally, in a dusty corner of the library, he found what he had truly come for—manuals on elemental cultivation. The shelf was crammed with books bound in different colors, each marked by an element. Fire. Water. Metal. And then—there it was.
An earth cultivation manual titled [Earth Resonance].
He didn't know its grade yet, but the moment he touched it, he knew Luo Feng would lose his mind when he saw it.
There were others too—at least a dozen more on similar techniques.
Without wasting time, he pulled out one of the empty spatial rings he’d found in the vault and swept every book from the shelf inside.
He didn’t just throw all the books into the spatial ring at once. Instead, he paused, letting his fingers brush across the spines, scanning for anything he might want to read during the long carriage ride back.
It didn’t take long to find something interesting.
There was a worn manual discussing the many aspects of qi—not just elemental, but spiritual, conceptual, and emotional. It intrigued him. Then he found a slim, faded book on the nuances of tea-making and cultivation harmony. He tucked it aside, already knowing Qing He would appreciate it. But the one that truly caught his eye was a book with a dragon etched into the cover—not gold like legends often described, but crimson, coiled around the book like it was guarding the words inside.
He picked it up without thinking.
Just as he was preparing to store the rest into the ring, Yalan’s voice cut through the silence.
“What are we going to do about the head?”
Chen Ren didn’t answer right away. He glanced over at her, then let out a sigh.
“Honestly?” he said. “I wanted to just… leave him somewhere. Somewhere no one would find him.”
Yalan tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because he’s a variable,” Chen Ren replied in a whisper. “Old monsters, especially ones who lost everything, can’t be trusted. He knows his sect is gone. We’ve already killed Blazing Ember Sect cultivators, but he might want a whole crusade against them. If word spreads… I don’t want more trouble. He might be weak now—just a head with no body and no power. But variables become problems when you stop watching them.”
He paused, rubbing the back of his neck.
“But thinking more about it… I don’t think we can leave him here. Anji’s inheritance lies with him. Whatever truth about soul cultivation is probably tied to that man. And I know you’re curious too.”
Yalan exhaled. “I am. But I don’t want to risk anything.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “But… it’s like a pet you can’t abandon. Anji needs him. And I—I want to understand soul cultivation better. He might be the only source left. But the only question is…”
He trailed off, looking back toward the direction of the vault.
“…will he be an ally, or an enemy?”
Silence fell between them, broken only by the soft rustling of pages as Chen Ren pulled more books into the spatial ring. For a while, Yalan said nothing. Then, finally, her voice came soft but certain.
“I believe he can be trusted.”
Chen Ren glanced at her, his brows raised just a bit.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, “but I believe it. You’ll make sure he won’t become a threat.”
Chen Ren didn’t reply, but the grip on the dragon-covered book in his hand tightened slightly.
“He needs us,” Chen Ren said after a moment. “To build a body.”
Yalan nodded. “By his own words, he’s one of those cultivators who always wanted more—stronger realms, deeper comprehension, greater heights. He won’t be content staying as just a head. That’s our advantage.”
Chen Ren’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought as she continued.
“He’s vulnerable right now. And we need his knowledge. So if we give him what he wants… he’ll give us what we need.”
“Like answers,” Chen Ren murmured. “About the medallion. The golden dragon. Everything Qing He told us. He might have some clue about it.”
“Yes,” Yalan said firmly. “He might even know about the devourers.”
That name lingered in the air for a few more seconds.
“He said he was born centuries ago. If the stories existed back then, he might have heard them before they became myths.”
Chen Ren nodded. He had thought the same thing. Deep down, he’d already accepted it—no matter how much he tried to shape his own fate, there was a larger design unfolding around him. A deeper plan. He had been so focused—building his sect, growing his businesses, training, preparing—but there was a looming shadow beyond it all. Something bigger than just him or even the sect.
The medallion. The vision. The golden dragon. And worst of all—he knew the danger was coming, but he lacked the information to face it. The head might finally fill that gap.
“If he really knows something,” Chen Ren said slowly, “then I might finally understand the threat. And start preparing for it properly.”
He turned to Yalan and let out a long breath. “So we’re taking him back to Meadow.” Then he sighed and touched his forehead. “Let’s just hope none of the kids see him. They’ll toss him around like a ball.”
Yalan chuckled. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Then her expression shifted, becoming a little more serious. “I want you to get closer to him in the carriage. Talk to him. Learn who he is. If we’re going to rebuild his body… we need to prepare.”
Chen Ren gave her a long look, then let out a low, wry laugh. “So more work for me, huh? I can’t even sleep on the carriage now.”
“You can sleep in the village,” Yalan replied smoothly. “Besides, don’t pretend. I know you’re curious. You want to learn more about him.”
Chen Ren didn’t deny it. He simply gave a small nod, looking back at the crimson dragon on the cover of the book in his hand.
“Well… yeah. I am.”
***
Li Xuan walked alone down the dirt path, the wind cold against his back, sharp enough to cut through his robes. The path ahead was empty, but his steps never quickened. His gaze kept drifting over his shoulder.
Something was following him.
It could’ve just been the wind—any normal person would’ve thought so—but Li Xuan trusted his instincts more than his senses. He had honed them too long, too carefully, to mistake the weight of a gaze for a breeze.
Still, he didn’t stop. Whatever followed him would reveal itself in time. And he didn’t have to work for it.
He walked with his spine straight and his aura sealed, but anticipation stirred in his chest—not from fear, but from excitement. Soon, he would meet the one who had unknowingly marked the end of his cultivation journey. Chen Ren.
Ashen City had given him far more than he’d expected. Ever since he saved the Zhu Clan’s young master and they took him in, his days had been full. A blur of training sessions, sparring bouts, and conversations—more than he was used to.
The girls in the clan hadn’t missed a chance to talk to him either. He hadn’t known how to handle that at first. He’d spent most of his life under strict training, sheltered and focused, so when they smiled or lingered near him, he didn't know whether to run or bow. In the end, he let them talk. Let them flirt. A cultivator, after all, was meant to experience all things—battle, spirit, hardship… and women.
But indulgence wasn’t his weakness. He wasn’t like the soft-hearted sons of nobility who fell at the first taste of wine and perfume. He trained every day, no matter the distractions. Sparred without fail. And there was no shortage of opponents in Ashen City.
The Zhu clan had no lack of fighters. Dozens had challenged him, and he’d learned from each one. When they had fallen short of expectations, he had found opponents beyond the clan. And it was Shen Bao who stood out—head of one of the more aggressive hunting groups with ruthless instincts and no hesitation. Sparring with him had left Li Xuan sore, bruised, and better.
Still, as valuable as this time had been, he knew he couldn’t stay. Chen Ren was the reason.
A name he hadn’t expected to remember, let alone pursue. A man who had risen in the chaos, not through luck, but will. There were other factors that backed him up, determination, strength, and strategy. And when Li Xuan looked at him, he didn’t see a rival anymore—he saw everything he had wanted to become.
That was the truth. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was clear.
He didn’t need a home, a clan, or even a city. What he needed was that one moment. That final battle. To see who he truly was, when everything was stripped away.
And so, with his sword at his back and his mind set, Li Xuan had taken off toward Meadow Village—the place where Chen Ren had founded his new sect.
He didn’t know what to expect.
A part of him imagined a fledgling sect barely held together with discipline and luck. He had tried one of their products—alcohol called moonshine they brewed and sold, apparently good enough to catch the attention of most cultivators in Ashen City. But surely that wasn’t what the sect was about. Chen Ren didn’t strike him as the kind to waste cultivation potential chasing after liquor.
Would there be powerful cultivators waiting there?
Unlikely. Most sects took decades—centuries, even—to gather real talent. Especially those built from scratch, without ancient backing or long-standing bloodlines.
As he walked, the wind stirred again, curling down his collar like a warning finger. The sense that something was following him returned, this time heavier, almost oppressive. His instincts screamed.
He spun on his heel—and landed in a ready stance just as the creature came down in front of him with a thunderous thud.
Li Xuan’s eyes narrowed.
It was a wolf—but no ordinary one. No, this one looked nothing short of a behemoth.
It stood easily a foot or two taller than any spirit beast wolf he had ever seen, its limbs coiled with lean, corded muscle. Its fur, once perhaps a dusky gray, had darkened into something far more menacing—blacker than obsidian, absorbing the light instead of reflecting it. It radiated an overwhelming pressure, and when it bared its fangs, Li Xuan caught sight of teeth like daggers—far more than a wolf should’ve had.
Every instinct told him to draw his blade. Until his gaze rose just a little higher… and he froze. A man was sitting on the beast’s back.
Li Xuan’s sword slid half out of its sheath before he raised it and pointed directly at the rider, who—judging by the relaxed posture—had no intention of hiding.
The man tilted his head, expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. “Who are you?”
Li Xuan’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I tell you anything?” he replied coldly. “You’re just a bandit blocking a road.”
The rider laughed. “Bandit? Haven’t been called that in a while.” He leaned forward slightly, patting the beast’s thick neck. “I only asked because you’re heading toward my sect. It’s not every day someone like you strolls in. Strong. Armed. Quiet.” He gestured lazily with one hand. “State your purpose.”
Li Xuan’s grip tightened on his blade. Was this man talking about Chen Ren’s sect? A sect with beast tamers already?
That was… unexpected. Impressive, even. Still, he wasn’t one to be interrogated on the road like a criminal.
“And what if I don’t?” Li Xuan said.
“Then I’ll have to force it out of you,” the man replied, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
Li Xuan’s stance shifted slightly. “You and your pet will lose your lives.”
“Maybe,” the man said, utterly unfazed. “But who said I was alone?”
Li Xuan’s eyes flicked to the trees for a moment, sensing no other presence—but then the man spoke again, calmly.
“And even if I fall, Sect Leader Chen will take revenge. That, I promise.”
At that, Li Xuan lowered his sword. So Chen Ren already had followers willing to die for him? Li Xuan's thoughts turned thoughtful. The sect might be further ahead than he had imagined.
There was no doubt anymore—the man in front of him was one of Chen Ren's people.
Knowing he hadn’t come seeking trouble, only a match that would settle the restless fire in his chest, Li Xuan exhaled slowly and lowered his blade. The gesture made the rider raise a brow, clearly surprised.
“Sect Leader Chen?” Li Xuan asked. “You mean Chen Ren?”
“Yes… Yes, I do. You know him?”
Li Xuan nodded once. “We’ve sparred in the past. I’ve come to find him.” He stepped forward. “I’m here to challenge him to another duel.”
The man atop the beast gave a low whistle, lips quirking in amusement. “You’re the first person I’ve met on this road with a reason like that.” He leaned down slightly, studying Li Xuan more closely. “Well then… I guess you're not lost after all.”
Comments
Dirk Gent Lee
Great moments setting up hete
