Chapter 34. Faceslapping
In any place, traditions and cultures were paramount, woven into the very core of life. One could not easily mend or break them.
Even on Earth, countless customs bound societies together; this Xianxia world was no different. Here, traditions were upheld with a similar if not higher regard, especially those surrounding conflict resolution. The most notable of these was the Trial by Might—a duel sanctioned by the empire, allowing cultivators to resolve disputes through combat, bound by strict rules to ensure fairness and safety. It was a custom respected by all and carried significant importance among cultivators.
Yet, it was rare to see such a trial between mismatched power levels. To challenge someone weaker was to court dishonour; only equals met in such an arena. Perhaps that explained why, when Chen Ren uttered the words "Trial by Might," an unnatural silence gripped the courtyard. The father and son duo, Bai Hu and Bai Shen, turned to him with expressions torn between disbelief and suppressed amusement, as though he had just declared the most ridiculous jest.
The servants, who had gathered at the fringes of the courtyard, exchanged bewildered glances. A few gasped while others muttered nervously, unable to fathom that the young man before them would dare invoke such an audacious challenge.
"Trial by Might?" Bai Hu's deep voice cut through the silence, laced with incredulity. His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, the golden embroidery of his robe shimmering in the late afternoon sun. "Do you even realise what you are saying, boy?"
Chen Ren met his gaze without wavering. The feeling of the stares, the scepticism, and the murmurs of disbelief pressed down on him like a storm, but he held firm. He was certain of his decision, and nothing could make him change that now.
"I do," he said with a sturdy voice. "And I have more than enough reason to challenge your son to a Trial by Might."
A hushed tension fell over the courtyard at his words.
"Preposterous," Bai Shen muttered, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.
Chen Ren ignored the whispering servants and the stunned expressions around him. He took a deliberate step forward, lifting a scroll in one hand. "To ensure the legitimacy of this challenge," he continued, "I have already requested the presence of an official from the City Lord's office."
As Chen Ren spoke, he gestured to the back where Liu Wen stood alongside an older gentleman, an official from the City Lord's office. The man's role was unmistakable: he was a special official tasked with overseeing Trials by Might, a position that ensured such matches adhered to the laws and traditions of Cloud Mist City and Kalian Empire. Given the city's proximity to a sect, these trials were not uncommon.
Bai Shen's eyes widened with shock, darting between Liu Wen, the official, and Chen Ren.
"You're claiming I've done something deserving of a Trial by Might? Where's your proof?" Bai Shen yelled, his voice strained with disbelief. "And aren't you ashamed of yourself, challenging me? I'm only a second-star body forging realm cultivator, while you're a fourth-star one."
Chen Ren shrugged at that, acting nonchalant at his words as if they meant nothing.
"No, I'm not ashamed. I believe it's you who should be." He held up a note, the parchment swayed gently with the wind passing by as he spoke. "Not only did you try to seize our supply lines—which, while legal, is underhanded—but you didn't stop there. You sent the Blood Snakes to destroy my businesses and even threatened the lives of my employees and business partner Tang Yuqiu, the daughter of the Tang Clan's head Tang Jihao. I have it here in writing, evidence that implicates you in these acts. And I believe it's sufficient grounds for this challenge, unless you'd prefer I take this matter to the city guards."
Both Bai Hu and Bai Shen paled visibly at Chen Ren's declaration. Bai Hu's composure cracked as he rushed to descend the stairs, snatching the note from Chen Ren's grasp and scanning its contents with frantic eyes.
Chen Ren couldn't help but notice the slight shakiness of the old man's hands.
"Don't try to destroy it," Chen Ren warned. "The official has already reviewed it. You'll only make things worse if you do."
"This… this is fake," Bai Hu sputtered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his doubt.
"Ask Yu Kuang if you think it's fabricated," Chen Ren retorted. "Your son is well-acquainted with him, after all."
Bai Hu's gaze shifted to Bai Shen, who stood frozen in place, eyes wide and face ashen as the weight of the accusations crashed down upon him.
At that moment, the official stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "Bai Hu, Bai Shen, the letter is authentic. We have Yu Kuang's signature in our records, and it matches those from his time in our custody decades ago, well before he formed his gang. Everything Chen Ren has claimed has been verified. There are indeed enough incidents to justify a Trial by Might, even with a disparity in star levels. Both are in the same realm, so it stands."
Chen Ren's lips curled into a subtle smile. "If you don't want a Trial by Might, I can take this proof straight to the city guard. I'm sure Tang Jihao will also pursue the matter, considering his daughter's life was nearly threatened.
"That's not true!" Bai Shen blurted out, "It was never meant to harm Yuqiu."
Chen Ren raised an eyebrow. Before he could respond, Tang Yuqiu stepped forward, her eyes fierce. "Oh really? Then what was it? Do you think I'm unaware of how you despise me and wish me gone because I rejected your proposal? And don't you dare call me Yuqiu!"
Bai Shen's face flushed, and he stammered, "It's not like that. My intentions for you are—"
"You can try to persuade her again later," Chen Ren interrupted sharply. He heard some snickers from behind, coming from the crowd who were now gathered around. "Right now, we're discussing the terms of the Trial by Might." He turned to Bai Hu, who seemed deep in thought as he weighed his options.
His eyes scanned the parchment again and again as if he was trying to find something to get out of this mess. But it was foolproof. He could do anything, but accept Chen Ren's terms.
Finally, Bai Hu looked up, his expression guarded. "What do you want in exchange for sparing my son?"
Chen Ren's eyes hardened. "I won't kill him—that's not my way. I only want him to fight. The prize will be five thousand silver wen."
"Five thousand?" Bai Hu's voice rose, incredulous. "You must be joking."
Before he could protest further, Tang Yuqiu stepped in, her voice resolute. "Originally, I wanted to claim your businesses, but since Bai Shen doesn't truly own them, that's not possible. If you value his life, put up the five thousand silver wen as the prize. It's simple: if you don't want to lose your money, ensure your son wins."
The official cleared his throat, glancing between the parties. "Is this acceptable to both sides?"
The tense air in the courtyard was thick. Chen Ren could feel it, and he was sure the father and son duo too knew what was coming.
It was evident by how Bai Hu's clenched jaw and white knuckles betrayed the turmoil swirling in his chest as he turned sharply towards his son, Bai Shen. His eyes burned with a ferocious mixture of frustration and helplessness. Bai Shen, standing at the edge of the stairs, trembled under his father's glare, his voice a weak whisper.
"Father... you're not really going to agree, are you? Do you understand what will happen to me?"
Bai Hu's fists tightened, his face a storm of fury and defeat. "You idiot," he growled, the words dripping with venom. "They have actual proof, Bai Shen. Do you think I could stop this once it reaches the City Lord's ears? My reputation will be shattered, no matter what. All of this... all of it because of you." He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over his son. "I can't afford to make an enemy of the law. Do you understand that?" He paused for a moment and scanned his son's face. "He said he won't kill you. So just, get it over with."
His son's expression faltered, and the fear deepened in his eyes. "But what if he cripples me, Father?" Bai Shen's voice wavered, as though speaking louder might make the threat more real.
Bai Hu's gaze softened, before he could reply, Chen Ren spoke up.. "I won't kill you, but I will make sure you can't get up from your bed for the next few months."
Bai Shen paled, the blood draining from his face. "Please... no. Please, I beg you." His hands shook violently, his knees visibly threatening to give way beneath him.
Bai Hu's patience seemed to have worn thin as he huffed at his son. With a sharp motion, he gestured to the servant standing nearby. "Get me a spear. The best quality one you can find."
The servant, without any question or hesitation, hurried off, returning moments later with a gleaming spear, its blade polished and sharp enough to draw blood with the lightest of touches.
Bai Shen gasped loudly as his gaze fell upon the weapon, his face turning pale.
"Take it," Bai Hu commanded, pushing the spear into his son's trembling hands. "Get it over with."
Bai Shen barely held the spear, his fingers seemingly numb with fear.
"Get the best healer. We'll need him afterward," Bai Hu ordered loudly.
With that, the trial was set to begin. The crowd around them parted, giving space for the trial to begin. The official, standing tall in the centre, raised his hand, announcing the trial by might.
"The allegations against Bai Shen will be settled here today. Bai Hu, in his wisdom and to save his son from further disgrace, has taken full responsibility in his son's place." His gaze swept across the spectators, ensuring every ear caught the gravity of the moment. "This trial, unlike others, will not result in death or permanent crippling. The only outcome will be one of victory or defeat, based on the ability to continue. The victor will be awarded five thousand silver wen, a sum that should not be taken lightly."
He paused, his eyes flickering toward Bai Hu and his son, both standing on opposite sides, tension thick in the air. "The fight will end when one combatant can no longer continue. Whether through submission or incapacity, when one fighter is unable to stand, the contest is over."
Bai Shen's gaze locked with the figure standing before him, Chen Ren. There was no warmth in his eyes, only cold calculation. He swallowed hard, his throat tight as he made one last desperate attempt to sway his opponent.
"I have no intention of harming you, Chen Ren," Bai Shen called out, his voice trembling, but still trying to sound dignified. "You must understand—if you hurt me, you will never recover from the humiliation you've brought upon us. No relationship will ever be formed between the Bai Hu Trade Association and you."
Chen Ren remained calm at his words, but his lips curved into a smirk. "I don't care about your association," he replied flatly, his tone devoid of empathy. "I've already made my decision."
Bai Shen's face twisted with frustration, but desperation clawed at him. "Then take the prize money, spare me, and walk away. That's all I ask."
Chen Ren's eyes darkened, and he stepped forward. "I won't. You tried to harm me first and I need to give it back. That's the way of the world."
Bai Shen's face twisted with rage, his nostrils flaring up. "In that case..." His grip on the spear tightened, his knuckles turning white. "I will show you the might of the future leader of the Bai Hu Trade Association!"
With a loud noise, he surged forward, the spear aimed at Chen Ren's chest, his movements fueled by desperation and the last remnants of his pride.
But Chen Ren had already seen the strike coming. It was too slow, too predictable. With a casual sidestep, he evaded the spear's thrust effortlessly.
Bai Shen let out a squeal like a little girl as the spear sliced through empty air.
Before he could react further, Chen Ren's hand flashed out.
A sharp slap echoed through the courtyard, ringing like a clap of thunder. Chen Ren watched as Bai Shen's head snapped to the side, the force of the strike leaving a deep red mark across his cheek.
The man glared at him, his eyes burning with anger, but it was clear from the tremor in his stance that he wasn't prepared for the level of humiliation he was about to endure.
The crowd gasped collectively, murmurs rippling through the onlookers, but Chen Ren didn't pay them any mind.
His focus was solely on the man lying before him. Bai Shen's face twisted in shock as his body flew backward, crashing into the stone with a sickening thud. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and Chen Ren could see the disbelief written across his face.
For a brief moment, Bai Shen struggled on the ground, his fingers twitching as he reached for his spear. Chen Ren could see the panic begin to settle into Bai Shen's chest, his desperation making his fingers tremble as they brushed against the shaft of his weapon.
Chen Ren moved with an inhuman speed, his voice cold and cutting. "No."
With a quick motion, he stomped down hard on the shaft of the spear, pinning it to the ground with a sharp crack. Bai Shen's weapon was useless now, and the man was completely at his mercy. Chen Ren stepped closer, watching as Bai Shen's shallow breaths came in quick, panicked bursts.
"Please… don't," Bai Shen's voice was barely a whisper, a mix of fear and desperation, but it held no power. Chen Ren saw the way the words faltered in his mouth, his plea hanging in the air and falling uselessly at his feet.
"I'm just teaching you the meaning of face slapping." Chen Ren said.
As he spoke, his hand lashed out once more. Whap! Another sharp slap echoed across the courtyard, Bai Shen's head snapping to the side with the force of it. Chen Ren watched the man's face redden, his eyes widening as the sting of the strike hit him once again.
Slap!
Before Bai Shen could recover, Chen Ren slapped him again, his palm connecting with the other side of his face. Each slap landed with a sickening force, and Bai Shen's body jerked with every blow. The crowd's stunned silence was only broken by the sound of slaps, each one making the man's face swell more, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Chen Ren could see the fear now, the trembling in Bai Shen's hands as he tried to shield his face, but it was futile. Every time Bai Shen tried to move, tried to beg, another slap came.
Each one was more brutal than the last, and Bai Shen's pleas for mercy were drowned out by the sharp cracks of Chen Ren's hand against his skin.
Thwack!
The man's body jerked again as Chen Ren slapped him for the final time, his movements deliberate, his expression hard and unwavering. Bai Shen had completely given up now, his face swollen, his body slack and defeated.
Bai Hu, his father, watched helplessly, the anger in his eyes turning to a bitter resignation. His voice broke through the chaos, desperate and hoarse. "Spare him, Chen Ren! Please!"
But Chen Ren's gaze never wavered from Bai Shen. He kicked him once, sending him stumbling backwards toward the stairs, the force of the blow sending him crashing against the stone steps.
Bai Hu stepped forward, his expression torn between anger and helplessness, but Chen Ren's voice rang out.
"I am already sparing him enough." He turned his back on Bai Hu, his focus returning to Bai Shen, who was now sprawled unconscious on the ground, his face a complete mess of blood and drool hanging from the corners of his lips. His face—it was an ugly crimson.
The official, still standing off to the side, quickly declared, "The match ends! Chen Ren wins!"
Bai Hu's face twisted with a barely contained rage, but he swallowed it down. "Get him to the healer now, quick!" he barked at his servants, the desperation evident in his voice. "Get him a bed, get him anything—just make sure he's alive!"
But before Bai Hu could turn to leave, Chen Ren's voice stopped him. "Consider this a warning, Bai Hu," he said, his tone calm, yet icy. "I'll always have the letter, and if you try anything... I'll remember my grudges. The next Trial by Might will not have the rule of no killing." His eyes bore into Bai Hu with an unspoken promise. It came out exactly how he wanted—cold and ruthless. "Now, why don't you give me my money?"
Bai Hu's teeth ground together, his mouth opening as if to retort, but then his gaze shifted to his son, who was still lying unconscious on the stone floor. With a deep, reluctant sigh, he turned to his servant. "Get me a bag with the money," he ordered.
As Bai Hu personally helped lift his son onto a stretcher, the servants quickly moved to push it up the stairs, their faces drawn with worry. Bai Hu sighed defeatedly and walked slowly behind the son, his eyes never leaving the latter's battered form.
A few moments later, one of the servants returned, a heavy bag of coins in hand. She handed it over to Chen Ren, and bowed subtly before running back.
Chen Ren took the bag, his fingers feeling the weight of it, the sound of coins clinking inside almost mocking Bai Hu's defeat.
"Good job with that bastard," Tang Yuqiu's voice broke through the silence, her footsteps approaching from behind. Chen Ren turned to see her and Xiulan walking toward him, both of them wearing expressions of approval. "I doubt Bai Shen will try anything now."
Chen Ren's lips curled slightly, the satisfaction of the victory lingering in his eyes. "Probably not. His face will take time to recover. And every time he looks in the mirror, he'll remember this. Either way, Bai Hu won't bother us anymore." His gaze drifted toward the retreating figure of Bai Hu, then back at the bag of coins in his hands. A wide smile plastered itself on his face. "I thought businesses will help me pay back my debt, but I should have just challenged an idiotic young master. With this, our perfume shop will thrive more and my major worry is gone. I'm debt free!"
Chapter 35. Chosen
Chen Ren had known relief before. It was the kind of thing that moved through your very soul, unshackling burdens you didn't realise you carried. He had felt it when he pocketed his first paycheck from a part-time job, a small wad of bills that carried the scent of hard-earned freedom. He had felt it when the girl he had nervously asked to prom said yes, that too, with a broad smile on her face. He had even felt it after the merciful end to a week-long battle with loose motions that had left him clutching his stomach.
But none of those moments came close to what he felt now. The suffocating heaviness of debt that had started to eat him had been swept away.
The debt hadn't even been his to begin with, yet he had never imagined he could repay it so quickly. The perfume shop had proven to be a gold mine, its success bolstered unexpectedly by the blunders of others. Between Yu Kuang's greed and Bai Shen's idiocy, Chen Ren had managed to secure six thousand silver wen in just two days—more than enough to settle his history to Feng Ming and the other creditors.
For the first time in what felt like ages, he was truly free.
With that freedom came opportunity. His perfume business was thriving, selling an average of a hundred bottles a week. Each one, priced between 5 and 8 silver wen, brought in a weekly income of five hundred to eight hundred silver wen. Even after deducting expenses for employees and herbs, the profits were staggering. His purse, once perpetually empty, was now steadily filling.
But freedom wasn't just about money.
For him, it meant finally being able to turn his attention to something he had been putting off—his cultivation. He wanted to push through his breakthrough and get stronger.
In his quiet room, Yalan sat perched on his desk. The ambers in her eyes dragged his attention like usual.
"I believe you've practised enough now," she said with a purr, gaining his full attention. "You've been in enough fights to temper your foundation. It's time to connect to your star space and reflect on your dao. Unlike martial cultivators, who train their bodies and absorb qi, your path relies on simply gaining more and more wealth and reward you for it. Your recent gains should make it possible for you to push forward. I'm curious to see if you'll skip any stages this time."
Chen Ren moved to the centre of the room and settled into a meditative position. He looked up at her and tilted his head.
"Do you think I can?" he asked simply.
Yalan nodded and continued to lick her paw gracefully. That was the thing about this cat—even the most boring, usual-cat actions were performed with an air of superiority. She's not just a cat, after all… But– Focus. Back to my cultivation.
"Yes. The success of the perfume business is a breakthrough in itself. It's evidence of your growth, both as a cultivator and a merchant. From what I recall, the farmer cultivator I spoke of gained advancements by achieving milestones—whether it was cultivating special plants or acquiring rare farm animals. Your system is similar, though how it manifests will be unique to you."
Chen Ren chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Alright, let's see what comes of it. The last time I entered the star space, it was… weird."
He closed his eyes and took a steady breath.
The star space was where he had first glimpsed the dragon, its majestic form entwined with the essence of the stars. He had wondered if it was something unique to him, but apparently every cultivator had it; a mind space of sorts that they found themselves in while cultivating.
And now, it was his turn.
Chen Ren closed his eyes, all his thoughts fading away as he drew in a long, steady breath. The qi in his dantian began to swirl, a gentle current that gradually built into a flowing river, carrying warmth through his meridians. Each inhale deepened his focus, grounding him in the hum of life coursing through him. His heartbeat slowed, his thoughts quieted, and soon the world dissolved into stillness.
When he opened his eyes again, he stood within his star space. The sheer vastness of it struck him once again, as it always did. The space stretched endlessly, a boundless void filled with floating stars that twinkle and danced like fireflies in the night. The qi here was thick, tangible, and alive, moving like a threat through the air.
Chen Ren tilted his head back, gazing at the stars that filled the sky above him. They were luminous, their glow-like steady beacons that pulsed in harmony with the energy within him. For a moment, he stood there, watching and wondering at the mysterious realm born from his own mind.
The beauty of it was humbling.
Then, as he continued to watch, the stars began to dim one by one. Their glow ebbed, their light faded. A quiet unease settled over him as he looked on, but it didn't last. Two stars remained, their lights still twinkling.
Chen Ren's breath hitched as understanding dawned upon him, clear and instinctive. These two stars represented his businesses—the noodle stall and the perfume shop. They were the milestones that had propelled him along his dao.
His gaze lingered on them, remembering his journey. He closed his eyes, focusing first on the noodle stall and how he had done it. It had been easy; making use of a delicacy that wasn't in this world, improving ways he'd made the noodles and selling it till it stuck.
He'd spun the story, explaining that the noodles were an exotic eastern delicacy–which was half the truth, but it had worked great as his marketing and rumours had spread, propelling more people towards his stall.
Was it morally right? Maybe. Maybe not. His words hadn't harmed anyone. So, while it might not have been entirely right, it wasn't wrong either. It was cleverness, and it had made the stall a success.
His dao's response made one thing clear; he shouldn't blindly follow a path of righteousness. Instead, he needed to be shrewd—not in a way that harmed others, but in a way that allowed him to make things work more efficiently.
That was the lesson the noodle stall had given him— foreign knowledge and innovation weren't enough. To make something flourish, it had to be marketed, positioned, and delivered smartly. Without a story, even the best products would languish in obscurity.
He didn't want that for his products. So, he took the best out of what he learnt.
The more he thought about it, the larger amount of qi he felt entering him and boosting his strength. With open arms, he absorbed it before his focus shifted to the other star, the perfume shop.
Unlike the noodle stall, this business had been a gamble in a saturated market, where competition was fierce and innovation was rare. Yet Chen Ren had seen what others overlooked. His mind rewound to the moment he had first spotted the gap in the market—a yearning from the middle class, those caught between luxury and necessity, for a taste of refinement that didn't demand a king's ransom.
He'd acted swiftly, applying principles that vibrated deeply within his dao. Utility maximisation.
It was a study that talked about how customers looked for the highest amount of satisfaction while buying a product. And he had placed the price of the perfume at that point where it gave the most benefits while giving him a good profit.
The perfumes were bridges between aspiration and affordability, the scents were made to offer a hint of elegance without the suffocating price tag. It was an untapped demand, and he had delivered.
The market responded, filling his coffers faster than he'd dared to dream. But it wasn't without its trials. And he had learned another lesson— wealth, like power, needed protection. A true businessman was a guardian, who should be prepared to defend what he built.
As his thoughts solidified, the star seemed to shimmer in approval.
Another rush of qi entered him, this time sharper, more concentrated. It filled him to the brim.
And yet, his eyes couldn't help but wander. Beyond the two glowing stars were countless others, faint and distant, like unlit candles waiting for a spark. They hovered in the darkness, dormant yet brimming with potential. Each represented a business, an opportunity yet to be seized, waiting for him to master and integrate them into his dao.
This was the essence of his path— to conquer the stars, one by one, forging a constellation of wealth, ingenuity, and ambition. But it wasn't just about gathering riches—it was about the journey, the challenges, and the mastery required to shape these stars into something greater.
As he gazed deeper into the void, something shifted. The stars, once scattered and unassuming, began to align. Slowly, they formed a shape—a massive, coiled dragon, its body stretching to fit the image.
The two glowing stars became its eyes, gazing down upon him with an intensity that sent shivers racing down his spine.
The pressure that followed was indescribable, not just physical but pressed against his very soul. Chen Ren's knees buckled, and for a moment, he struggled to breathe, yet he couldn't tear his gaze away from the dragon's eyes. They held something, he felt both small and significant, as though his entire existence had been laid bare.
Then, a voice echoed—not in the air, but in his mind.
"Child, you are... chosen."
The words shook his very mind. Chosen? For what? The dragon's gaze bore into him, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw the stars behind it begin to flicker, their light about to vanish.
But before he could comprehend what it meant, the star space began to dissolve. Everything including the stars, the dragon and the voice started getting sucked into a void—or was the void always there?
When Chen Ren opened his eyes, he was back in the quiet of his room, his breaths ragged and his body drenched in sweat. The qi within him felt denser, yet his mind raced with questions.
He clenched his fists and blinked, disoriented, as his senses reoriented to the physical world.
But what hit him first wasn't the light—it was the smell. A pungent, acrid stench assaulted his nose, making him grimace.
His eyes darted down, and to his horror, he saw a viscous black liquid pooling beneath him, ticky and foul. He scrambled to his feet, slipping slightly in the mess, and turned to Yalan, who stood nearby, licking her paws like nothing had happened, but her nose moved as if she was disgusted by him.
"What… what is this?" Chen Ren stammered, gesturing to the puddle.
Yalan raised an eyebrow and leaned slightly away from the smell. "Your extremities," she said matter-of-factly, her tail flicking in the air as if to dispel the odour. "Advancement purges impurities from your body. These are the toxins you've accumulated over the years. Your body is refining itself, becoming more efficient, more… powerful."
Chen Ren frowned, still staring at the dark muck. "How does that even work? I mean, all the science I know doesn't—"
She cut him off with an exasperated meow. "I don't know your 'science,' and frankly, I don't care. Be glad you've skipped three stars and now you're at the seventh. And," she added, wrinkling her nose, "go take a bath. You stink."
She looked cute with that little nose, but God, the smell. It could kill someone.
Before he could get up and move towards the shower, one of her sentences replayed in his mind. His brow furrowed as he turned back to her. "Wait… did you say three stars? I skipped three stars?"
Yalan nodded, her expression softening slightly as she observed him. "Yes. You've surpassed three stages and are now at the seventh star body forging realm. You're rapidly approaching the threshold of the next realm." Her voice carried a note of genuine admiration. "Congratulations. I haven't seen someone with your talent advance so quickly before. It's… remarkable."
He sank back onto the floor, the realisation hitting him like a tidal wave. Three stars. Skipping stages. The seventh. He glanced down at his body, even through the layer of grime, noticing subtle changes. His muscles felt denser, his movements lighter, his senses sharper. Even his skin seemed to glow faintly. And underneath the filth, there was a strength that hadn't been there before.
He clenched his fists, relishing the energy coursing through him. The desire to test his strength burned within him, but before that, a lingering question nagged at the back of his mind.
"Yalan," he said, looking up at her. "After I bathe, I need your opinion on something."
"What is it?"
He hesitated, then asked, "Do people normally… see dragons in their star spaces?"
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed out of a response. "A what?" she demanded, leaning closer, but trying not to get herself onto the pool of blackness.
"A dragon," Chen Ren repeated, watching her reaction closely. "I saw one. It spoke to me."
Yalan stared at him, her lips parting as if to say something, then closing again. Finally, she muttered, "You… you're serious."
"As serious as I smell right now," Chen Ren said dryly, gesturing at the puddle beneath him.
Yalan didn't say anything for a while, stepping back away from him, but her eyes glued to him. Questions seemed to swirl on her face.
Finally, she spoke. "Go take a bath. We will talk after."
Chen Ren sighed but didn't argue. He wasn't about to spend another second covered in whatever this gunk was.
***
On a late afternoon, Gu Tian strolled leisurely through Cloud Mist City, his dark robe brushing the dusty ground as his sword glinted faintly against his back. The crowd parted subtly as he passed, more out of instinct than recognition, their eyes catching the strange, quiet aura he exuded.
He stopped at a roadside stall displaying countless bulbous fruits, their golden skins speckled with red and green streaks. He smelled the sweet aroma from the fruits and a temptation born in his heart. One hard to resist.
And sometimes, the only way to get over a temptation, is to give in to that.
As his pitch-black eyes settled on the shopkeeper, the man froze mid-gesture, his usual sales patter dying in his throat. The intensity of Gu Tian's gaze was heavy, like staring into an abyss that gazed back.
The shopkeeper's hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his grip on a basket, sweat beading at his temple.
Then Gu Tian smiled—just a small, relaxed curve of his lips—and the tension eased like a breeze.
"How much for one of these?" Gu Tian asked.
The shopkeeper quickly recovered, clearing his throat and picking up one of the fruits, which shimmered in the sunlight. "Honourable Cultivator, this is a Heavenly Dew Fruit, brought all the way from the famed Xuanshan Valley. It's ten copper wen. It's said to enhance one's focus and stabilise—"
"Just give me one," Gu Tian interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Your sweet talk just sickens me."
The shopkeeper paled slightly but hurried to comply, plucking the finest fruit from the pile and placing it in Gu Tian's hand.
Gu Tian knew that the man barely noticed the smooth weight of a coin dropped into his palm, his eyes flicking back to the sword strapped to Gu Tian's back.
He bit into the fruit without ceremony, the juice bursting in his mouth with a mix of sweetness and tartness. He chewed slowly, savouring the unexpected sweetness, before glancing back at the shopkeeper.
"So," Gu Tian said between bites, "how's the city doing these days? Heard anything interesting? Something that might excite a young cultivator like me?"
The shopkeeper hesitated, his eyes darting around as if searching for eavesdroppers. His hands fidgeted nervously as he leaned slightly closer. "Well…" he began in a whisper, "there are a few things people have been talking about."
Gu Tian nodded, but waited patiently, allowing the shopkeeper to respond.
"The city tournament—it's happening in three weeks," the shopkeeper said. "A lot of promising young cultivators are expected to join. Always draws a crowd, and the rewards are said to be extraordinary this year."
"Hmm." Gu Tian's tone was noncommittal, but his chewing slowed slightly as he considered this.
"And…" the shopkeeper continued, his voice dropping even lower, "there's trouble with the Bai Hu Association. Apparently, their young master hired a gang to damage someone's business. But… he lost a Trial by Might after angering the cultivator who owned it. Big scandal, they say. People are still whispering about it."
Gu Tian smirked faintly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Always entertaining to see arrogance backfire."
The shopkeeper nodded nervously, then hesitated before sharing the last piece of news. "And…" He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. "There's… been a killer in the upper city. They're targeting the wealthy—nobles, merchants. Three victims so far. The city guard's investigating, but no one's been caught yet. People are scared."
Gu Tian took another bite of the fruit. The sweetness now tasted sharper, almost metallic.
His eyes glinted with interest, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "A serial killer?" he asked, taking interest in the last piece of information.
The shopkeeper leaned closer, his nose almost touching his. Gu Tian wanted to move, but he held himself back, listening to the man's words.
"Yes, honourable cultivator. There have been reports of similar types of bodies being found—ripped apart and sucked dry, like something unnatural killed it. They're saying a demonic cultivator is loose in the city." He glanced nervously around. "Some even say the city lord is considering delaying the tournament because of it. But he's resisting—doesn't want to show weakness."
Gu Tian chuckled softly, the sound more amused than concerned. "Certainly interesting times ahead," he said, brushing the shopkeeper's tension aside. His eyes gleamed again as he continued, "Tell me about this tournament. Where can I register?"
The shopkeeper straightened slightly, clearly more comfortable with this topic.
"You'll need to visit the city lord's office to sign up. It's mostly for body-forging realm cultivators and lower-star qi-gathering realm ones. It's a competition meant for the young—no high-star qi-gathering cultivators join in, to avoid losing face. The Soaring Sword Sect is sponsoring it, handing out prizes. The city lord's throwing in a big plot of land outside the city, too. There is similar stuff to win, some artefacts and lots of spirit stones."
Gu Tian nodded thoughtfully, flipping the shopkeeper a one copper wen. "Thanks for the information."
The shopkeeper bowed his head slightly, relief visible on his face as Gu Tian turned to leave. Strolling down the busy street, Gu Tian bit into the fruit again, the juices running down his hand. He savoured the sweetness, his steps light as he reached into his robe and pulled out another fruit—one that hadn't been paid for, but sneaked from the stall. He bit into it without breaking stride, a carefree grin spreading across his face.
As he walked, a faint whisper slithered into his ear, cold and sharp. "Don't you dare enter the tournament."
Gu Tian didn't break his stride, addressing the voice in a low tone. "And why not?"
The whisper turned into a low hiss. "There will be many cultivators there, even the high-level ones will be watching. If we're caught, it won't end well for either of us."
Gu Tian chuckled. "It doesn't matter. You're here to mask my demonic qi, aren't you? Besides…" His eyes flicked up, his voice taking on a playful lilt. "Didn't you hear? The Soaring Sword Sect and the city lord are offering rewards. It could be that what we're looking for would appear in the tournament."
The ghostly voice fell silent, its reluctance hanging in the air. After a moment, it spoke again, resigned. "Fine. But if tonight's raid is successful, we leave the city afterward. Agreed?"
Gu Tian's smirk widened. "We're raiding another clan tonight, then?"
The ghost's voice hummed in the thrill. "Yes. I overheard a conversation at the inn while you were asleep. There's a clan in the city—the Feng Clan. Their young lord deals in artefacts. We might find what we're looking for there."
Gu Tian licked the juice from his lips and then moved to his hands, doing the same motion shamelessly, his excitement barely contained. "Sweet. Let's hope that the young lord puts up a decent fight. I could use a warm-up before the tournament."
Chapter 36. Spirit Manifestation
Yalan gazed over Chen Ren, her amber eyes narrowing as she watched him move through the bustling market.
Chen Ren walked between the crowd as if he was used to the chaos that it brought, and his steps were mindful to match his calm exterior amidst the noises. A faint smirk tugged at her lips—he didn't belong here, not in this world, not in this life, and yet he carried himself as though he had mastered it.
A strange human, she mused, flicking her tail. Even for a man from another world, he was peculiar. Whispers of lost souls, like leaves caught in the wind, had reached her over the centuries—otherworldly beings stumbling into this realm, often chasing grand dreams of martial supremacy.
Most were snuffed out before their stories could be written, their fragile ambitions shattered by the sheer challenge of the path they sought. Yet, Chen Ren had defied expectation.
Just days after his arrival, he had tethered himself to a dao so foreign, so unorthodox, that she—an ancient spirit beast with lifetimes of knowledge—could scarcely comprehend it. It wasn't as if she was used to understanding outsiders, but this one walked a path utterly unlike any she had seen. A dao rooted in mundane simplicity yet profound in its execution, one that didn't shimmer with celestial glory.
Despite his mediocre spirit roots—laughably weak by the standards of heavenly geniuses—his progress was nothing short of extraordinary.
She could only attribute it to his sharp mind and the unusual knowledge of the world he called Earth, a place she could only imagine as chaotic and incomprehensible. Where others spent decades refining techniques and seeking enlightenment, Chen Ren's growth seemed effortless, as if the very heavens dared not obstruct his way. Or perhaps it was because no one else dared to walk the path he had chosen, leaving him unchallenged in a field that defied traditional cultivation.
Yalan's whiskers twitched. The surprises never ceased. For all her airs of superiority and her role as his so-called master, she couldn't help but feel like the one being taught.
Watching him shape his strange dao, his every step a quiet revelation, left her questioning centuries of knowledge she'd once thought infallible. But of course, her pride as a celestial cat would never allow her to admit such thoughts—not even to herself.
Instead, she lifted her head high, feigning indifference as the human continued forward, his stride strong and unbothered, even though he clearly knew she was watching his every step.
She had tried to rationalise her astonishment, pinning it on the circumstances surrounding him. Perhaps it was his otherworldly origins, or the unorthodox nature of his dao. But then, he had mentioned the dragon—a dragon—in his star space. A spirit manifestation this early was something entirely unheard of.
A part of her, ever wary, wondered if he might have lied. Humans, after all, were prone to embellishments, and she had encountered countless who puffed up their pride with falsehoods. But no—Chen Ren wouldn't do that to her. He had always been honest to her. If he said he had seen the dragon, then it was real.
But how? Why Chen Ren?
These questions raged in her mind, tightening with every thought. She had heard of cultivators manifesting spiritual projections, their daos taking form in the astral plane. Yet this was a feat reserved for those who had transcended boundaries of the lower realms, their foundations honed over decades or even centuries. For him to achieve it now, so soon after stepping into cultivation, defied all logic.
Her tail twitched as she turned her gaze inward, her eyes gleaming faintly as she peered into the depths of his being.
His soul sat steady and unassuming within his dantian, surrounded by spirit roots so pitifully weak that any sect worth its name would have dismissed him without a second glance. And yet… her sharp eyes detected the faint hum of something more. It wasn't that his roots had improved—no, they were as mundane as ever. But his dao... the path he carved out for himself seemed to bridge the gap, compensating for what nature had denied him.
She flicked her tail in thought, her steps light and unhurried as she walked beside him. The wind danced through her fur, but her mind remained tethered to the mystery that was Chen Ren. Just what had the heavens seen in him to gift him such an absurdly early revelation?
Before her thoughts could spiral further, Chen Ren's voice broke the silence. He spoke to her through his mind, knowing that if he spoke alone he might as well appear as a madman. "So… what exactly is spirit manifestation?"
Yalan's ear twitched, her feline features betraying a brief flash of irritation. She had known he would ask. Of course he would—he always asked questions.
With a sigh, she cast him the sternest look she could muster, one perfected over centuries. It was the same look she had honed when raising a litter of spirit kittens, training them before releasing them into the world.
Her amber eyes narrowed. "Spirit manifestation,"she began in a clipped tone, "As its name implies, spirit manifestation is the appearance of a spirit within you. When a cultivator walks their dao, they occasionally connect to spirits that align with their path. That's why high-realm cultivators often summon spirits when they execute their techniques—but it's rare. Exceptionally rare. Certainly not something someone like you should be able to achieve."
She glanced at him pointedly, her amber eyes glinting with disbelief. "And a dragon, no less? The last dragon died three centuries ago. Even then, it was only a wyvern—not a true dragon. Do you have any idea how absurd this sounds?"
Chen Ren scratched his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Wait, so dragons are real?" Then, as if realising the answer himself, he smacked his forehead with enough force to draw curious looks from passersby. He looked stupid doing that, but she had gotten used to his eccentricities by now. "Of course they are. This world has everything."
Yalan rolled her eyes but refrained from commenting. He turned back to her, his expression brightening. This man was like a curious cub, almost trying to get to the bottom of every question he had. "So the dragon in my star space… that's my spirit manifestation?"
"Maybe," Yalan said slowly, her tone unusually serious. "But this is well beyond anything I know. If it truly is a dragon, that's… significant. A dragon being alive is already monumental news. But one that shares your dao?" She shook her head. "That's nearly impossible. Dragons are mystical creatures, one of the Four Heavenly Beasts of legend."
Chen Ren's curiosity only deepened. "Four Heavenly Beasts? Who are they?"
Yalan sighed, flicking her ears in irritation but answered anyway. "The White Tiger, the Black Turtle, the Crimson Phoenix, and, of course, the Golden Dragon. They represent the pinnacle of existence, embodying unmatched daos." Her tone softened as she began listing them. "The White Tiger stands at the peak of the martial dao, its strength and ferocity unrivaled. The Black Turtle follows the dao of healing, embodying resilience and restoration. The Crimson Phoenix pursues the dao of creation, revered by alchemists and craftsman cultivators alike."
"And the dragon?" Chen Ren asked, looking down with widened eyes.
"The dragon…" Yalan paused, her gaze drifting as though searching for answers in the distant horizon. "It's unknown. Despite being one of the Four Heavenly Beasts, its power remains shrouded in mystery. It hasn't revealed itself in centuries, and no records describe its true dao. It's as if the heavens themselves concealed its path."
"So… if the dao of the dragon is lost, could it be… that it rules over money?"
Yalan froze mid-step, her ears flattening as silence wrapped around her. The weight of his words sank in like a stone, sending ripples through her mind. It was ridiculous. Impossible. And yet… Her silence betrayed her uncertainty. What if he was right? What if this absurd notion was true?
If the dragon's dao truly aligned with wealth, then Chen Ren was no ordinary cultivator. He wasn't just treading an unusual path—he was poised to bring a seismic shift to the world. The thought sent a chill down her spine, one she quickly masked with a flick of her tail.
Snapping herself out of her stupor, she quickened her pace. "Let's hurry to the tea shop,"she said briskly, her tone firm. "I saw some books on spirit beasts there. You will get more information on them there."
She strode ahead, ears twitching with irritation and focus. Yet, as the wind carried Chen Ren's steady footsteps behind her, she risked a glance over her shoulder. His casual gait and unfazed demeanour only deepened her unease. What destiny awaited a man walking the dao of money?
***
Chen Ren sat cross-legged in the quiet upper-floor room of the tea house. The scent of freshly brewed tea was in the air but his focus remained on the stack of books before him. Like Qing He had promised, she'd allowed him access to more of her collection, and he'd already devoured a handful of them over the past few days. But today, his purpose was singular; learning the truths about spirit manifestations and spirit beasts.
He turned the worn pages of an old book titled "Path of the Bonded Spirit by Grandmaster Xu Fen", the faded ink still sharp enough to convey its authority.
According to Xu Fen, spirit manifestation was one of the most difficult feats a cultivator could achieve, requiring not only a deep understanding of their dao but also the extraordinary luck to find a spirit beast that resonated with it. Binding the spirit beast wasn't just a connection; it was a soul pact, forged through the cultivator's star space. Once completed, the bond allowed the cultivator to draw on the spirit beast's power, uniting their fates forever.
The book had detailed the process of binding, alongside accounts of cultivators who had succeeded.
Chen Ren's eyes lingered on a vivid description of a famous cultivator, Zhang Wu, who had bonded with a mischievous monkey spirit. Through the pact, Zhang gained the ability to create multiple clones of himself, overwhelming opponents with sheer numbers. Another tale recounted the journey of Sato Shi, who formed a pact with a lightning mouse. The bond allowed her to summon devastating thunder strikes in battle.
Chen Ren's brow furrowed as he read on.
He found detailed descriptions of spirit beasts commonly bonded with cultivators walking the martial daos.
Martial dao cultivators had a natural advantage, forming bonds with creatures like stone apes or wind wolves that enhanced their combat techniques. Alchemists, on the other hand, often bonded with fire spirit beasts—flame foxes, ember salamanders, or even minor firebirds—granting them the precise control of flames needed for their craft.
The book, Path of the Bonded Spirit, was an invaluable resource. Yet, as he closed it with a soft thud, Chen Ren furrowed his brows. "There's really nothing about dragons in here," he muttered, a tinge of disappointment colouring his voice.
From across the room, Yalan, sprawled lazily on her stomach, cracked an eye open and flicked her tail. "Obviously, there won't be," she said in a dry tone, as if mocking Chen Ren's research. "I bet you didn't even find anything on the other three heavenly beasts, did you? None of them have bonded with a cultivator in centuries. You won't find that kind of information in any dusty book."
Chen Ren let out a frustrated sigh but leaned back, thoughtful. "At least I learned how bonding works. I can try with the dragon."
Yalan lifted her head slightly, and let out a chirr, before continuing. "But didn't you tell me you're always thrown out of your star space when the dragon shows up?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I can barely stay there for a few moments before it forces me out."
"Then you're too weak to bond with it," she replied bluntly, stretching her paws out. "It's impossible for someone in the body forging realm to bond with something like a dragon. Your body will break under the strain of its strength."
Chen Ren sighed again, deeper this time. Her words sounded like he wasn't enough to do whatever he needed to do at the moment, and that was—frustrating. "That's… unfortunate to know." He paused, staring out the window for a moment before his eyes lit up with determination. "But if it's just a matter of strength, doesn't that mean I'll be able to bond with it if I get stronger?"
Yalan studied him for a long moment, her gaze unreadable. Finally, she shrugged, a sly grin forming on her lips.
"Sure. Build more businesses, then."
Chen Ren blinked, confused. "What does that have to do with—"
"Your dao," Yalan interrupted, her tail swishing playfully. "The dragon follows your path, right? Get stronger on your path, human. Maybe then you'll have a chance."
Chen Ren gave a wry smile, leaning forward to stretch the muscles in his back and neck as he'd been sitting in the same position for too long.
"I already feel stretched thin as it is. I need more people in my sect, but it's hard to recruit anyone without an official sect status."
Yalan scoffed, flicking her tail in irritation.
"Then just get an official one."
He sighed, shaking his head. "That's easier said than done." Definitely harder than flicking the tail and asking to get an official sect status. "To establish a sect officially, I'd need spirit stones, and you don't understand how much harder those are to get. They're insanely expensive. Sure, I can earn a lot with my businesses and trade mortal currency for them, but the exchange rates? They'll bleed me dry. A single low-grade spirit stone costs a hundred silver coins, and that's if you're lucky enough to find someone honest. Higher grades? Don't even get me started."
Yalan's eyes narrowed as she stretched her front legs again, feigning a yawn. "Then why not go find them in the wild?"
Chen Ren gave her a flat look. "You think I haven't thought about that? I don't have the location of any spirit vein mines. It's not like they just pop up out of nowhere. The famous ones are already under the control of major sects or handled directly by the empire. No one's leaving those unguarded for me to stumble upon."
Yalan's ears twitched as she circled the same spot she had napped in before finally settling down. She glanced up from the floor and gave her tail a single swoosh, signalling her comfort. Chen Ren couldn't help but be amused by this cat—just look at her.
"Then go hunt beasts. Trade their cores for spirit stones. Isn't that how cultivators usually make a living?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, forgetting all about the demeanour of the cat just to focus on her words.
"That's an option, sure, but it's dangerous. Spirit beasts aren't exactly friendly, and I'm not strong enough to face high-grade ones yet." His gaze shifted to her, a wicked smile stretched across his face.. "Unless, of course, you'd be willing to lend me your claws?"
Yalan smirked, her tail curling lazily. "Ah, so now you want my help? What happened to your, 'I can handle it myself ' attitude?"
Chen Ren sighed dramatically. "That was before I realised just how expensive ambition is in this world."
Yalan scoffed, flicking her tail dismissively. "I'm not your employee, human. I'll help if you're in danger, but if you start relying on me for every little problem, you'll never grow. Do you think I want to follow around a weakling forever?"
Chen Ren nodded earnestly. "Well, you are right. I don't plan to use you. It was a joke. You're already my cheat in this world—besides my dao, of course."
Her ears twitched as she eyed him suspiciously. "Cheat? What's that supposed to mean?"
Chen Ren just chuckled, refusing to answer as he snickered under his breath and moved toward another stack of books.
He skimmed through the shelves, his fingers brushing over the spines as he read their titles. "The Mystical Art of Spirit Carpentry," "Cooking Techniques of the Flame Salamander," "How to Properly Groom a Spirit Beast—Volume II," and he stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Who writes two volumes on grooming?"
Yalan snorted from her spot, unimpressed. "People with too much time on their hands, clearly."
Shaking his head, he kept searching. His gaze wandered past a few more odd titles—"The Secret Lives of Spirit Ants" and "1001 Ways to Trap a Spirit Chicken"—until he froze. His eyes landed on a plain, leather-bound book tucked between more decorative tomes. The faded golden letters on the spine read: "Talismans and their Making."
Something about it tugged at him, and he reached for it without a second thought.
Chapter 37. Cultivation disciplines
Jasmine—Qing He inhaled the smell deeply as the porcelain teacup swirled gently in her hand.
Her eyes locked in at a cluster of young girls—mortal, rich, giggling and infuriatingly loud–huddled around a table. Their voices raised after one another as they all debated (with an annoying heat) over that story. The one penned by the odd young cultivator, Chen Ren.
Her fingers tapped on the table in a soothing rhythm as her lips curved in a satirical smile.
It had been quite some time since the so-called love story was released. She half-expected the fascination to die long back but on the contrary, it had become an obsession. They'd been treating the book akin to a classic folk tale.
She sighed at that thought.
These girls—they were reimagining, filling the gaps with their own absurd fantasies; alternating endings, impossible love triangles and even theories that bordered on the ridiculous. She had talked to Chen Ren about it and he had simply labelled it as "fanfiction" and told her to let it grow.
According to him, every popular work would have fan renditions, but Qing He had never even heard the term before.
Her brows twitched as the two youths started raising their voices, trying to assert dominance over their narrative of the protagonist's love was truly required.
She sighed, feeling that her patience was wearing thin.
"Maybe I should've just burned the manuscript," she muttered to herself. Or maybe, I shouldn't have ever accepted letting that young cultivator take a look at my collection in exchange for the novel.
Because the deal had struck true, the profits continued to flow inside her small tea stall like nothing, and it had been mostly due to the book 'Liang Shan' and 'Hua Yun'.
With that, a chuckle escaped her lips. At least the business has been doing well.
As she took another sip of her tea, her mind refocused on Chen Ren. With his sly grin and strange aura, he had been on her mind far more often than she cared to admit.
Two hundred years ago, she might've mistaken this curiosity for a girlish crush—one that ran deep. But now? Now she knew it was something else entirely.
He was an enigma and Qing He detested enigmas. He was a strange, mysterious cultivator and those kinds almost brought a new set of problems with them.
This morning, he'd entered her shop without so much as a greeting and made a beeline for the first floor, where the books were. And he moved with the authority of a man with a big, fat purpose.
But that wasn't the reason why he had been on her mind.
It was due to the fact that his aura had changed, from a weak four-star body forging realm cultivator to a seven-star. She had seen him just three days back and he hadn't looked anywhere near a breakthrough then.
Her teacup paused mid-air, her fingers tightening around its rim. One thought swirled in her mind.
"Is he a demonic cultivator?" she said aloud, unable to help herself.
And more importantly, even if he was, could she kill him with the spirit cat following behind him?
She hadn't reached that conclusion for no reason.
Qing He had seen many strange things in her centuries of life, enough to dismiss the eccentricities of most cultivators. Because they were, by nature, an odd breed. Endless pill-popping, retreating into caves for decades at a time, and emerging half-mad and wholly awkward.
But this? This was something else entirely.
No cultivator, no matter how talented or dedicated they were, leapt three stars in the body-forging realm within a single day. That was a fact as immutable as the heavens themselves. She had confirmed it with her own senses–he had been a fourth-star novice barely a week ago, and now—his aura was much more noticeable at the threshold of the eight star.
At first, she thought it could be because of pills. After all, it wasn't unreasonable. Chen Ren had recently earned a significant fortune by winning a Trial by Might.
He could've easily bought body-strengthening or bone-forging pills, the type used by wealthy but untalented disciples to brute-force their way through the early realms. But pills, no matter how strong they were, took time to absorb into the body. They worked with the marrow, the bones, the muscles and even the bloodline. No pills, no matter how rare or expensive they were, could slip the natural order.
So, how?
If he wasn't a demonic cultivator whose rumours had been speeding through the city, then what was he? The thought of him being a heavenly genius crossed her mind. That would at least explain the spirit cat she'd seen trailing him.
And yet,something about that explanation felt… wrong.
Her instincts, experienced over decades of watching the rising and fall of countless cultivators, rejected that idea.
No, he didn't fit into the mould of a demonic cultivator or a prodigy.
His path felt stranger, more labyrinthine.
The truth felt like something that she couldn't figure out just yet. And for the first time in decades, she felt curiosity bubbling inside her, and her mind felt like an itch that she couldn't quite scratch without proper answers.
On the other hand, the mystery surrounding the man was intoxicating. She felt almost giddy, wanting to know what he was up to, who he was and how he did it.
A part of her even wanted to march towards him, block his path with a single thought and demand answers directly. Words or force, she didn't care.
Her reverie was broken by the soft creak of footsteps, drawing her eyes toward the staircase.
Chen Ren, the man who'd clouded her very thoughts for the longest time today, emerged. He had a small stack of books balanced in his arms, and that spirit cat—his perpetual shadow, padded silently behind him.
A faint smile crossed her face as she straightened, placing the teacup in front of her and she folded her hands on the counter.
The young cultivator stopped before her, putting the books down with a casal thud. "Senior Qing He, I found these books and was hoping you could help me understand them."
Qing He's eyes flicked to the titles, her brow arching with each one she read. Talismans and Their Makings. Arrays and Applications. A Dumb Cultivator's Guide to Pill Creation.
Hmm. Interesting.
Her gaze rose to meet his. "Are you… trying to learn all the cultivation disciplines at once?" she asked, a faint edge of incredulity lacing her voice.
Chen Ren grinned, an expression so disarming it nearly masked the absurdity of his response. "Actually, yes," he said with a casual nod. "I was looking for books on spirit beasts, but these caught my eye. They seemed... interesting."
Qing He pressed her fingers to her temple, exhaling slowly. "Interesting," she repeated, her tone dry. "I don't think you realize what you're getting into. Most cultivators only dabble in secondary arts when they've reached a bottleneck or lack talent in pure cultivation. Sects value a skilled alchemist or array master because those talents are rare, but mastery of a secondary art is an entirely different path from cultivation itself. Few have the time—or the capability—for both."
Chen Ren nodded thoughtfully, his grin never faltering. "That's precisely why I want to dabble in them," he replied, his voice carrying a conviction that caught Qing He off guard. "I believe they'll unlock the next set of opportunities for me."
"Opportunities? What kind of opportunities?"
His grin widened, a glimmer of mischief in his expression. "I believe you already know," he said smoothly. "Business opportunities."
Qing He blinked, momentarily stunned by the simplicity of his answer. She leaned back, her lips pressing into a thin line. She couldn't understand this man or his intentions, and she was far from assuming what they were. "Business opportunities," she repeated, shaking her head. "You're an odd one, Chen Ren. Most cultivators seek power, enlightenment, or even revenge. And here you are, treating cultivation as a stepping stone to—what? Becoming a merchant?"
"Not just a merchant. A successful one."
For a moment, Qing He said nothing, simply studying him. There was no hesitation in his words, no sign of doubt. If nothing else, she had to admit: his confidence was as intriguing as it was maddening.
She let her eyes linger on him, her expression an amalgam of disbelief and curiosity.
It wasn't the first time Chen Ren had said something so wildly unconventional. She still remembered the day he'd nonchalantly talked about founding a sect as if it were the same as opening a tea shop. Now, here he was again, speaking of mastering cultivation disciplines—not for self-defence, enlightenment, or even survival, but for business.
Her lips twitched with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. "You're telling me, that you're learning these—not to make pills for breakthroughs, or to protect yourself with arrays, but… for business?" She waited for his response.
He nodded, enthusiastically.
"Are you dumb?" she asked, not holding back her thoughts.
Chen Ren didn't flinch, his grin unfaltering. "Obviously not," he replied. "Business is my path. I've been doing well in the mortal market, as you've probably noticed, but it's only a stepping stone. Sooner or later, I'll need to target cultivators and to do that, I need to understand what they want to buy. These books"—he gestured to the stack on the counter—"are the key to developing products they'll value. And, as you said, these skills can double as tools for self-defence. That's just a bonus."
Qing He let out a sharp laugh. "Going by your unnaturally fast breakthroughs, I seriously doubt you need more tools to defend yourself."
Chen Ren's expression shifted ever so slightly—a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. He met her gaze squarely. "I can see that your old eyes are still working."
Qing He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "They work better than yours and I haven't lived for centuries just to miss something so obvious," she replied. "And you don't strike me as foolish enough to think mortals would have books on cultivation disciplines. It's clear you understand what I am."
Chen Ren nodded slowly, his fingers drumming lightly against the counter as his eyes darted around the shop. After a moment, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "So, can you help me with these? I've skimmed through them, but most are written in overly formal language, full of jargon that's hard to grasp. If I'm going to learn, I'll need guidance. And frankly, you're the only one I can come to."
For a moment, Qing He was taken aback. Surprise flickered in her eyes as she studied him, searching for any sign of deceit.
The man stood tall, with his usual smile on his face. Not even the smallest falter of emotions in his eyes.
Finally, finding none, she opened her mouth, ready to reject him outright.
But then, her earlier questions about his rapid progression surfaced in her mind, tugging at her curiosity. She hesitated, the words dying on her lips. Instead, she leaned back.
"I could help you, but in exchange, I want something from you."
Chen Ren tilted his head. "And what might that be?"
"You're going to tell me how you've been progressing so fast in your cultivation."
***
Chen Ren hesitated, his eyes shifting between the stack of books and Qing He's steady, expectant stare. Revealing his dao wasn't something he took lightly. By now, he understood just how rare it was.
The idea of casually sharing it with others felt similar to handing over a priceless treasure—dangerous and foolish. More importantly, if his suspicions were correct, his dao might be the thread that tethered him to a lost heavenly beast. That connection wasn't something he wanted prying eyes on.
But again, Qing He… wasn't just anyone. Though the woman carried herself with the aloof dignity of someone who didn't care much for others, Chen Ren had spent enough time around her to know better. She was sharp, sure, but also bound by her word—a rare trait in a world where deceit was second nature to many. And while she sometimes acted like she'd rather be anywhere but talking to him, she'd still been honest, patient even, in their past conversations.
He sighed, leaning forward slightly. "Fine, I'll tell you, but only if you promise—no, swear—that you'll never speak of it to anyone."
Qing He frowned, her forehead wrinkling as she looked at him with the same thoughtful expression she always wore. "You have my word. Now, speak."
Chen Ren took a deep breath, steeling himself before he began to explain. He spoke carefully, omitting any mention of the dragon or the deeper mysteries he hadn't fully unravelled himself. Instead, he focused on the essence of his path: the Dao of Money. He described the way it resonated with him, how it shaped his understanding of the world, and how it opened doors in ways few could comprehend.
As he spoke, Qing He's expression shifted. At first, her brows furrowed in thought, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, as the realization sank in, her jaw slackened, and the teacup, she grabbed up to take a sip, remained in mid-air. When he finished, she closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath.
"So," she finally said. "you're not a demonic cultivator. You simply follow an esoteric dao… of money."
Chen Ren nodded, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "That's right."
She opened her eyes and set the teacup down. "And here I was, wondering if you were the soul-devouring fiend skulking through the city."
Chen Ren blinked, caught off guard. "Wait. Why would you even think that?"
Qing He leaned back in her chair, her fingers idly tapping the armrest. "Because there's been talk. Whispers of a demonic cultivator roaming the city, killing people and consuming their souls. It's spreading fast—too fast. Even the city guards have ramped up their patrols to hunt the culprit down."
Chen Ren's brow furrowed as he processed her words. He went silent, his mind drifting to the streets he'd passed through earlier. Now that she mentioned it, the atmosphere had been strange. People moved with a cautious edge, their gazes darting to every shadow, their steps quick and lacked the usual calmness. He'd dismissed it as paranoia, but if a killer was truly on the loose, their wariness made sense.
"I did notice people acting… off," he admitted. "But I didn't think much of it at the time."
Qing He studied him for a moment, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "Well, at least I can cross you off the suspect list," she said dryly.
He paused. Unable to know what exactly to respond with, he replied, "...Thank you? And, I'm not that. I'd never do something like that."
Qing He studied him for a moment before giving a slow nod. "You don't carry any demonic qi—that much is certain." Her gaze shifted slightly, landing on Yalan, who lay nonchalantly by the counter, her tail flicking lazily. "But what about your spirit beast?"
Before Chen Ren could respond, Yalan hissed with sass and spoke directly into their minds. "I'm not his."
Qing He's other eyebrow shot up, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in her eyes as she looked back at Chen Ren. "Care to explain that one, kid?"
Chen Ren scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "She's... complicated. Yalan isn't just any spirit beast. She's been the protector of my clan for generations. In this lifetime, she's bonded to me. But," he paused, glancing at Yalan, "I'd say she acts more like a master than anything else."
Qing He's lips quirked into a faint smirk, her sharp gaze flicking between him and Yalan. "Interesting. Makes me wonder about your clan, but I won't pry further." She let the silence settle briefly before shifting her attention to the books on the counter. "Now that my questions are answered, let's get to business." She tapped the top book with her finger. "I'll help you with the basics of these disciplines, but don't get your hopes too high. I'm no master of any of them—just someone with a baseline understanding. You'll have to make do with that."
Chen Ren nodded quickly, his excitement plain. "That's more than enough for me, Senior Qing He. Where do we start?"
She slid the book on talismans toward him. "Tomorrow afternoon. Meet me at my shop, and we'll begin with talismans. It's as good a place to start as any."
"Tomorrow? Why not now?" Chen Ren asked, ready to pout her way in if it would work with the old woman.
Qing He pointed out the window, her tone wry. "Because it's already night, and unlike your young bones, mine need proper rest. I have to close up and do some reading of my own."
From her place by the counter, Yalan let out a soft, amused snicker but said nothing.
Chen Ren nodded, his excitement dimmed only slightly. "Fair enough." He glanced out at the darkening streets and sighed. "Either way, I need to go. One of my creditors has something of mine—a medallion—I need to collect, tonight."
Qing He's expression turned serious at that, her gaze narrowing. "You're heading out this late? Be careful. The demonic cultivator hunts at night, and you don't want to cross paths with him or her. Most of the attacks have been closer to midnight, so you might be fine, but caution is always wise."
Chen Ren dipped into a slight bow, his tone respectful. "Thank you for the warning, Senior Qing He. I'll be careful."
With that, he turned and stepped out of the tea shop, the faint jingling of the bell above the door accompanying him into the night.
Yalan padded silently beside Chen Ren, her sleek form appearing noticeable even in the shadows as they moved through the quieting streets. The path to Feng Ming's estate was familiar to him—not from this life, but from the fragmented memories he had inherited. The layout of the city's upper side was etched firmly in his mind, making it easy to navigate the straight route from the tea shop.
The upper side of the city exuded quiet wealth, with paved roads and well-maintained lanterns emitting a steady glow, but even here, the usual hum of life seemed muted.
As they walked, Yalan's voice brushed against his thoughts, sharp and inquisitive. "I'm curious about this demonic cultivator on the loose."
Chen Ren raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "Why? Aren't they a pretty staple thing in this world?"
"Staple or not, they're not brain-dead," she replied with a dry edge to her tone. "Even the most reckless of them would think twice before entering a city so close to a guardian sect. If a demonic cultivator is here, actively killing people, it's not random. They're here for a reason. And I doubt it's a small one. I would caution you to not let your guard down, even for a moment, no matter what."
Her words carried an unmistakable warning tone, and Chen Ren frowned slightly, his steps slowing for a brief moment. He knew she was right. He had no illusions about his strength—he had grown, yes, but not enough to take on a demonic cultivator.
He rubbed his temples as he walked. "I get it. I'll be careful."
"Good," Yalan said.
From what he knew, the demonic cultivators were stronger on the same level because demonic qi inherently were far more destructive. It was because they used a lot of forbidden techniques, making it always tricky to fight them.
They never played fair.
But well, she was right. He should be careful.
The streets grew quieter the further they walked. Shops were shuttered, their owners hurrying home, and even the few pedestrians Chen Ren had seen earlier seemed to vanish. The mist, which usually began creeping through the city as the night deepened, hadn't even started to rise, yet the unease in the air was palpable.
More guards patrolled the streets than usual, their lanterns swaying as they moved in pairs, scanning the shadows with sharp eyes. Chen Ren noticed the tension in their postures and the way they gripped their weapons until their knuckles were white.
The unease was infectious.
A part of him considered turning back, leaving this errand for daylight. It would've been the safer choice—less risk, less tension crawling up his spine with every step. But he'd already sent a Tang Clan messenger earlier that morning to arrange a time for retrieving the medallion. The response had been clear: this hour, tonight.
And he didn't want to delay that. He had no idea if Feng Ming wouldn't stall him if he delayed the meeting and he wanted to end the matter of his debt tonight.
So, despite the unease coiling in his chest, he pressed on, shoulders squared and steps steady. Hopefully, he thought wryly, the demonic cultivator/ serial killer is taking a well-deserved break tonight.
The attempt at humor didn't quite dispel the tension, but it was enough to keep him moving forward.