Dao of Money-Chapter 97: Corpse lands

The talk with Chief Muyang was brief.

Once the old man gave his word to protect Meadow Village, he left with a spring in his step—most likely to inform the other elders of the village, blissfully unaware that Chen Ren had wanted exactly that.

The moment Muyang escaped his sight, Chen Ren's gaze turned distant.

This place can’t fall, he thought. Not just because the sect grounds lay nestled within the village’s bounds, but because just beyond them, Luo Feng was laying down the spirit anchors for the farm. A farm meant to feed his people, build their foundation—and eventually, grow into something much bigger.

He would need Chief Muyang’s help for that future. More farmlands wouldn’t be granted without the village’s blessing. It was easier to nod once the dust had settled than to raise walls when fire rained from the woods.

And if things went well… then the wild beasts would serve as more than just a threat.

Target practice, he thought with a smirk, fingers flexing at the thought of the prototype guns.

Once they were ready, there would be no better way to test them than wandering beast. And no better reward than beast cores, flesh, bones, and hides—each one a stepping stone for alchemy, weaponcraft, and cultivation.

He had made up his mind. He was going for the Immortal Market. If his people were to compete with the existing powers, they’d need more than just courage—they’d need equipment.

After the meeting, Chen Ren wasted no time and moved towards the sect. Yalan veered off with a wave of her tail, saying something about checking in on the refugees. He left her to it.

Word of his return had apparently outrun his feet.

Tang Xiulan was waiting at the doorstep like a proper young miss, straight-backed and smiling—until she saw him. No luggage with him. No signs of hardship. Just a slightly amused look on his face.

She blinked. “Where’s your stuff?”

He waved at her and walked past with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Come on. Walk and talk. I will explain.”

They strolled through the courtyard path as the sun filtered gently between the eaves. She filled him in on everything that had happened in his absence. Thankfully, most of it was good news—though she still sounded like she expected to be scolded.

A few unfamiliar faces crossed their path—young men and women who paused mid-step to bow politely at Chen Ren. And almost the entire time, they looked at him with awe and curiosity. Chen Ren politely nodded at them.

“We took in a few more villagers,” Xiulan explained. “They were looking for work and we still had coins left from the moonshine profits. Most of them are helping set up the brewery.”

He nodded. The brewery was essential—not just for coin, but for influence. People followed those who fed them and those who paid them. He was doing both and a bit of alcohol would go a long way with it. Moreover, it would also work as a gift in case he had to have meetings with more clans and sects.

“As for the cultivators…” she smiled faintly. “Zi Wen’s made the most progress. He’s even bonded with another beast—a tier-one greater weasel.”

“A weasel?” Chen Ren asked, faint surprise layered in his voice.

“It plays with the kids near the sect all day. They love it.”

He snorted, but didn’t complain. Playful or not, a tier-one beast was still a good bond for someone his level. Everything was slowly slotting into place. But the clock was ticking. RἈ𐌽Ò𝖇Ёṧ

Chen Ren made a mental note to look for the weasel later—he was curious about the new addition to the sect. A tier-one beast bond wasn’t a small matter, and if it was getting along with the children, even better.

Tang Xiulan, never one to leave a moment quiet, kept talking.

“Hong Yi’s been in his own world. Literally. He's holed up in that workshop all day with the puppets. We can barely get him to eat.”

Chen Ren chuckled under his breath. At least he’s consistent.

“And Luo Feng,” she continued. “He’s just been farming.”

Chen Ren’s steps faltered for half a second, a flicker of disappointment passing through his eyes. Although her words had no other meanings, he realised that the only reason Luo Feng was just farming was because of a lack of an earth-aspected cultivation manual. He needed to get him one that suited his dao and any manual he knew would only slow him down since it won't be aligned with him and too focused on power.

A sour feeling coiled in Chen Ren’s chest at the thought. Guilt, perhaps. He had meant to handle that sooner. But with everything that had happened… Maybe I didn’t plan this sect as well as I thought.

Pushing the thought down, he asked, “What about Feiyu and Qing He? Any progress with guns?”

That got a smile out of her.

“Actually,” Xiulan said, “they wanted you to come meet them. Seems like they’ve finally perfected the prototype. Anji and Han Fei are helping test it too, since we’re building it for mortals.”

Chen Ren nodded. “I’ll go check it out. I need to speak to Qing He anyway.”

They walked a few more steps before Xiulan gave him a side glance. “You still haven’t told me what happened in Jingxi.”

He sighed, as if dragging a heavy cloak off his shoulders. “Long story. New enemies, same old conflict. But I managed to set up a base. Tripled our profits from Heavenly Fragrances.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s great. And the enemies?”

“Took care of it temporarily.” He looked ahead, feeling the stares of the mortals passing by. “Our plan is to become big enough that when the problem comes again… we’ll be ready. I think we’ll be fine.”

He slowed down, turning slightly. “I’ll give you a detailed report later. For now, I want to see what Qing He’s been up to.”

Xiulan nodded and moved to go—but before she could take a step, his hand landed gently on her shoulder.

“I know I don’t say it a lot,” Chen Ren said sincerely, “but you’ve done a great job managing everything. You’re the reason I can leave the sect for more than a month without worrying. I wouldn’t be able to do it without you.”

She stared at him, unreadable for a beat, but he noticed the twitch at the corner of her lips.

“You pay me,” she said flatly.

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t appreciate you,” he said. “Even people who get paid for their work need to hear it. Otherwise, it just feels like an endless grind.”

“It is an endless grind.”

“Hopefully my words make it a little less grindy.”

That earned him a small huff of amusement. Not quite a laugh. But close enough.

Chen Ren turned without waiting for more, boots thudding softly as he moved through the corridors toward the workshop where Qing He and Feiyu had been working.

The loud noise of metal, occasional sharp clicks, and faint bursts of pressure were all the clues he needed. They were testing something. As he stepped closer, the sounds grew sharper, more controlled.

Then he saw them—Qing He and Feiyu, the latter wearing some leather armour, grinning like mad inventors as smoke rose from a line of targets. Han Fei was at the far end, shaking his head and loading something into a cartridge slot.

Chen Ren folded his arms, watching silently.

Perfect, he thought. Let’s see what my mad geniuses have cooked up.

And then, Han Fei passed the rifle to Anji who took it like an experienced marksman. That surprised him a bit, not expecting that sort of confidence from her.

She stood with her feet firmly planted, both hands steady on the rifle. Her brow furrowed slightly in concentration as she took aim at the line of wooden targets placed on the far end of the workshop grounds.

A bullet shot through the air and struck the target. A little left of center, but still a solid hit.

Han Fei, standing off to the side next to the two cultivators, gave an audible gasp. “That was amazing!”

Chen Ren watched quietly as Anji adjusted her stance, took another breath, and fired again.

Crack!

This time, the bullet hit dead center. Then another. And another.

Each shot rang clean through the yard, echoing against the workshop walls. Every puff of smoke from the barrel only solidified it for him—the rifle was thriving.

Chen Ren hadn’t expected Anji to have such a good aim, but even more than that, he was impressed by the weapon itself. It looked stable. Smooth. Powerful. Whatever issues had plagued the prototypes during testing were clearly resolved.

As the last round clicked empty, Qing He—already aware of his presence—turned toward him, brushing some soot off her sleeve.

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“Well?” she asked. “How’d you like it?”

The others turned as well. Anji stiffened the moment she saw him, and Han Fei widened his eyes, giving an awkward but swift bow before fidgeting under the weight of his gaze

Chen Ren gave both of them a nod, then looked at the others. “You clearly worked a lot on this. Looks like it’s ready for battle.”

“I barely slept,” Qing He muttered with a tired grin. “Wanted to get it done before you came back.”

He scoffed. “You don’t need to sleep at your cultivation level. Don’t act like you made a great sacrifice.”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

He chuckled, then added with sincerity, “But still, you and Feiyu did a great job. It’s way faster than I expected.”

Feiyu nodded, arms crossed. “We’re still trying to improve it. But it’s at a stable phase now. We’re planning to test it against some of Hong Yi’s puppets next—should be a good benchmark.”

Chen Ren nodded approvingly. I was going to suggest that exact thing.

His eyes lingered on the rifle for a moment, then he asked, “Think it can take down a tier-one beast now? Or cultivators”

Feiyu tilted his head, thinking it through. “Low-tier, definitely. One or two well-placed bullets could do it. For anything tougher, we’ll need to aim for vital spots, and it’ll still take a few rounds. The penetration’s good, but against higher-tier muscle or beast hide, it won’t be as effective.”

He paused. “Against qi refinement cultivators? They’ll probably get nicked or distracted at most unless we land a headshot. But body forging ones? That’s where they’ll start feeling it.”

Chen Ren’s lips curled upward.

Not bad at all.

Chen Ren smiled, satisfied, and stepped forward to examine the it resting on the table.

It was cleaner than the last version—less bulky, with smoother metal along the barrel and a chamber that gave off a faint hum of spiritual energy. Etched formation lines ran down the sides, feeding small amounts of qi into a core that pulsed softly. The trigger was no longer a pile of scrap but a solid, well-built mechanism. This wasn’t a rough prototype anymore. This was a real weapon.

As Chen Ren traced a finger along its body, ideas began to stir. He already had a few concepts—ways to make it powerful enough to punch through even qi refinement realm cultivators or disrupt a cultivator’s flow of qi on contact. Some involved formation cores that could accelerate the bullet mid-flight. Others required special metals to conduct spiritual energy, or bullet casings that could absorb and discharge condensed qi like tiny bombs.

But they didn’t have the materials. Not yet. Those ideas would come later—once they had more reach, more wealth. For now, this was more than enough. As he examined the weapon, he sensed an unusually strong energy. It was subtle—controlled—but not invisible.

He turned toward Feiyu, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“You made a leap,” Chen Ren said. “Your qi—it’s different.”

Feiyu smiled, sheepish but proud. “You noticed. I broke through to the third star of the qi refinement realm last week.”

Chen Ren raised his eyebrows, a grin forming on his lips. “That’s a solid jump.”

Feiyu nodded. “Working on the guns helped. Trying to design something new, push past the limits—it made my thoughts sharper. Helped my understanding of the dao of forge in a way that working on swords and shields never did.”

Chen Ren felt a flicker of excitement at those words. So I was right.

He had been wondering about it for some time now—what truly advanced one’s mastery of the dao of forge? Unlike his own path, which seemed to strengthen with every coin earned or trade made, the forge dao wasn’t as straightforward.

There were theories, of course. Some said it required crafting increasingly powerful weapons. Others claimed it was about infusing qi into creations, forming spirit artifacts. But none of the texts he read explained the lack of progress most blacksmiths made past the early realms. There were only theories.

Now it made sense.

Most blacksmiths were bound by tradition, forced to replicate the same weapons their ancestors had made for centuries. Without innovation, without creation, their path stagnated. And as far as qi infusion went—those secrets were closely guarded. Hidden by clans and sects.

It was no wonder most blacksmiths got stuck at the first three realms. But Feiyu wasn’t bound by that. He was making something new. Something never seen before in this world.

Chen Ren made a mental note to sit down with him soon, dig into the specifics of his dao insights. There could be a path forward not just for Feiyu, but for the entire sect if he could increase his understanding of different daos.

Turning his attention, he faced Qing He. “Were you able to procure some techniques?” he asked.

Immediately, Qing He shook her head, a trace of frustration in her voice. “No. I sent out letters to everyone I could think of—anyone who might’ve had what you’re looking for. But like I told you before… These techniques and manuals are heavily guarded. Even if you offer spirit stones, they won’t part with them.”

She paused, then looked him in the eye. “You need to understand—these are clan and sext secrets. Some of the manuals I do know… I can’t share them. Doing so would be betraying the sect I once served.”

Chen Ren’s expression darkened slightly, but he nodded. He understood. Though, that doesn't mean it didn’t sting. But at least now, he had confirmation.

He let out a breath, the bitterness from Qing He’s refusal lingering just a moment longer before he pushed it down. He had asked for earth-aspected cultivation manuals, even offered to pay in spirit stones—what few low-grade ones he had left—but the immortal world didn’t deal in generosity. There were things that couldn't be bought with currency.

Which left him with only one real option.

“Then what about ruins?” he asked, turning to Qing He.

Her brows instantly pulled into a frown. “Are you planning to dive headfirst into your death?”

Chen Ren gave her a casual shrug. “I have confidence. Especially with Yalan around.”

“Confidence doesn't negate danger,” Qing He shot back, folding her arms. “Ruins aren’t exactly friendly treasure vaults. If a sect or clan knew about one, they’d sweep it clean before you ever got there. And if they didn’t? There’s usually a reason why.”

“I know,” Chen Ren said, nodding. “But in the books I read from your shop, it’s clear—new ruins get discovered every decade. Some of them go unnoticed for centuries.” He paused and smiled slightly. “Even Hong Yi managed to find that inheritance, remember? That puppet technique of his didn’t come from a scroll lying in the market.”

Once he’d realized the business route was cut off—his influence in the immortal world too shallow, his name barely a whisper, and his spirit stone pouch more dust than coin—ruins had started to seem less like a reckless gamble and more like the only logical path forward.

Sure, they were dangerous. But even in the cultivation stories he had read before coming here, ruins were always filled with treasures—if you survived the traps. And traps? Traps could be prepared for. He had ideas. Devices. Techniques. And more importantly, he had Yalan. She wasn’t just feline—she was skilled, calm under pressure, loyal, and a meridian expansion realm spirit beast—the last one the most important.

“There might be some in the Corpse Lands,” Qing He finally admitted, reluctantly. “But they’re really dangerous. Definitely not for a cultivator at your level.”

“Corpse Lands?” Chen Ren echoed, brow raised.

It was Feiyu who answered.

“They’re at the empire’s western border. Entirely uninhabited now. Cultivators go there all the time looking for ruins or lost legacies,” he explained. “They say one of the strongest ancient sects fell there due to some unknown reason. The land’s cursed… but people believe the inheritance of their sect leader, a nascent soul cultivator, is still hidden somewhere in the region.” His voice lowered with quiet awe. “Even now, some who return from the outskirts find strange treasures—spirit-infused metals, talisman blueprints, even old formation keys.”

Chen Ren’s interest sparked instantly. Nascent soul inheritance? Hidden artifacts?

He didn’t want to leave again so soon—not after finally getting back and finding everything slowly falling into place—but this sounded like exactly the kind of risk that could turn things around for his sect. And at the very least, he could start learning more.

He turned back to Qing He. “Can you tell me more about it?”

She sighed, but her posture relaxed slightly.

“Follow me,” she said. “I might still have a book about it in the shop.”

Chen Ren nodded and fell into step behind her, thoughts already racing. Hence, he didn’t notice the way Anji’s gaze lingered on his back as he walked away, quiet and unreadable.

***

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