Chapter 78 - 10-14

Chapter 10. Dao of... Money?

Chen Ren frowned as he struggled to explain the strange phenomenon that had been happening to him in the last few days. It took a while for him to get everything out as he thought back to how he had been feeling different since he had first started his stall. 

"I didn't notice it at first, but I've been feeling something in my dantian these days. It's faint, like a soft pulse, but it's there. I can sense qi in the air too, though it's barely noticeable." 

Yalan's eyes narrowed, her eyes sparkling lightly. She licked her mouth— was she amused? 

"You sure you're not just filling your head with air?" she asked, a smirk playing on her feline lips.

It was already odd that a cat could speak even better than some humans, but the fact that he could understand her emotions felt like an out-of-the-world experience. Then again, everything here was out of the ordinary. 

Chen Ren shook his head firmly and got back to the topic. "No, it's real. It's faint, but I can feel it."

The cat studied him for a moment before giving a small flick of her tail. "Close your eyes," she commanded.

Chen Ren hesitated. "Why?"

She hissed at that question, clearly unsatisfied by Chen Ren's response. 

"You don't need to worry. If I had any intention of harming you, you wouldn't even take a single step before it was over."

A chill ran down his spine at her words, and with a reluctant nod, he closed his eyes. Silence stretched between them before the cat's voice broke through again.

"Do you feel anything now?"

Chen Ren focused, but behind his closed eyelids, there was only a vast emptiness. He could hear the faint rustle of the wind, smell the damp earth beneath him, and feel the breeze brush past him, but it was as if he didn't exist like a ghost in the night. All his concentration was for nothing. No trace of what she wanted him to find— no swirl of qi, not even a slight ripple in the air.

"No," he replied, trying not to sound frustrated.

"How about now?" 

Yalan's voice seemed to hum with a strange energy.

Suddenly, he felt a shift. 

A wave of qi had gathered and bunched up around him. His senses sharpened, picking up the energy, however weak. "Yes," he breathed. "I can feel it now. It's like... something pressing in around me. But not physically. It's mystical in nature."

"Okay, open your eyes." 

When he opened his eyes, he found the cat watching him with an intensity that erased her usual demeanour. Her tail stood straight, completely still, as if she were a guard on high alert.

"It seems like you really can sense it," she said, very slowly. 

Chen Ren exhaled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"I told you," he said, before taking a pause, rethinking the words she told him a while ago. "So... if most people can't do this, does that mean I'm actually special?"

The thought hung in the air, the idea of having some hidden talent gnawing at him. He might not have gotten a system like if this were a video game, but if he could gain some special talent with sensing qi, he might just be able to progress faster than what he had initially assumed. 

Yalan's eyes gleamed for a moment before she meowed softly— it sounded more like a scoff than a noise coming from a cat. 

"Special? Don't get ahead of yourself," she said. But there was a flicker of something else in her gaze— a quiet acknowledgement that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than she had first believed. "Well, partly, maybe, but I've seen geniuses who could sense qi from childhood. I'm not sure if you're one of them, but I believe it more that being from another plane has made you more sensitive to qi." She moved towards the left gracefully from where she was, pacing in thought before turning to him. "There's another thing, though."

Chen Ren's brows furrowed. "What?"

Yalan's tail flicked as she explained, "Cultivators often feel bursts of qi or sense it swirling when they practise their dao. It also happens when they experience a breakthrough. After all, a dao is the path a cultivator walks on, and as they progress, they gain insights— small or large— depending on their mastery of it."

Chen Ren thought for a moment, his face twisted in confusion. "Even so, it doesn't add up. I wasn't practising any martial arts or swinging a sword when it happened. I was distributing rice noodles or running my stall. Why would my qi flare up then?"

The cat gave him a sidelong glance. 

"Dao of noodles?" she said in the most serious tone possible. 

Chen Ren chuckled lightly. "I doubt that's it," he said. "Whatever it is, I just hope I don't end up with a dao that I have no interest in."

Yalan shook her head, her tone returning to seriousness. 

"That won't happen. A dao is a path you walk upon yourself. No one else can choose it for you. After all, it's a long journey and it's yours, not anyone else's. You should meditate and reflect on your dao. Think about the path you're meant to follow."

"But I don't even know what dao I have." 

The cat's gaze softened slightly, almost as if teaching a child. 

"Then consider which dao you want. The Chen Ren before you walked the martial dao, but clearly, that path was lost. You are not him. You need to search for what you desire—what you seek—deep within yourself."

Chen Ren nodded, settling into a cross-legged position as he closed his eyes, focusing inward. The cat's words echoed in his mind, urging him to think about his dao— the path he wanted to follow. His thoughts drifted naturally toward the martial dao.

In a world of cultivators, it was the logical choice, wasn't it? The quickest route to power in a dog-eat-dog world. Yet, the more he considered it, the more he realised how ill-fitting that path was for him.

He adapted well, so given time, he might be able to come around the martial dao, but would winning in fights make him happy? Even if he ignored the fact that he would be risking his life every day, his natural talent of 21 spirit roots was too low for any sect to look at him nicely. 

Moreover, he had already strayed far from the martial path, choosing a very different route: business. Earning money, managing his noodle stall, paying off debts— he was more of a merchant than a warrior. If any dao suited him, it had to be that.

As he pondered, he felt a sudden stir in his dantian. 

The qi within him began to swirl more intensely as if resonating with his thoughts. He kept at it, focusing on the vision of his products flourishing, the coins piling up, and his success growing as he built a name for himself.

He imagined expanding his business, using the wealth to improve himself, his connections, and his life. He imagined creating more products from Earth, slowly taking over the mortal market before looking at the sects. He imagined creating his own company. 

The more his thoughts moved in that direction, the more his qi swirled inside of him. 

Then, a chill ran down his spine. His eyes snapped open.

He was no longer in the courtyard. Instead, he floated in a vast, endless space filled with stars, each one twinkling like a distant diamond. He hovered, weightless, in this unfamiliar realm. The silence was profound, and for a moment, he was entranced by the beauty of it all.

"What... is this place?" Chen Ren whispered, his voice swallowed by the void.

As if in response to his question, the stars around him began to move— slowly at first, then faster, shifting in strange patterns.

The energy within him swirled violently, and as he looked up, the stars coalesced into a shape— a massive, serpentine figure. His breath caught in his throat.

A dragon!

Its enormous form twisted through the starry expanse, vibrating with power. Its eyes locked onto him, and Chen Ren felt an overwhelming wave of fear wash over him. This wasn't just an illusion— this was something else… something greater. 

Fear, cold and raw, clawed at his insides. This wasn't a dream; it was a reality more terrifying than anything he'd ever known. The dragon let out a deafening roar, a sound that shook the very fabric of existence. Its celestial form lunged towards him, the stars scattering like startled fireflies.

Chen Ren's body froze in terror. His blood ran cold. He was trapped, a helpless speck in the dragon's cosmic maw. Panic surged through him, but his body refused to move. As the dragon's shadow loomed over him, he squeezed his eyes shut, a silent scream trapped behind his lips.

And then... he woke up.

Gasping for breath, his eyes flew open, and he found himself back in the courtyard, the faint scent of grass and the cool night air grounding him. His heart pounded in his chest as if he had just escaped death.

What just happened? 

Chen Ren blinked, staring up at the night sky. 

His breathing was heavy, and sweat beaded on his forehead as he sat up from the bench, holding his head to steady himself. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what had just happened. That dragon, the stars, the overwhelming fear— it all felt so real. He took deep breaths, one after another before the cat's voice made him turn towards her. 

"So," Yalan said casually, perched on the bench. "It seems you actually managed to connect to your dao."

Chen Ren's eyes flickered towards her, still dazed. "What?"

The cat hopped down gracefully and padded closer, her amber eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

"Just an hour ago, when you were meditating, you let out a massive surge of qi. You made a breakthrough," she explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "You're now a fourth-star body forging cultivator."

Chen Ren blinked, processing the information slowly. "A breakthrough? Just like that?" He still couldn't wrap his head around it. That terrifying vision, that dragon... had all of that somehow pushed him to a new level?

The cat nodded, her tail swaying lazily behind her. "Yes. It's rare for a cultivator to skip an entire stage in the body-forging realm, but I guess your connection to your dao must've been strong enough. You finally aligned with it."

For a moment, Chen Ren could only sit there, taking it all in. His heart still raced, but now he noticed something else— a warm energy coursing through his body. It was subtle at first, but then it hit him all at once: his body felt brimming with vitality like he could take on the world. His muscles twitched and flexed with energy, his mind was sharp, and a rush of positivity surged through him, making everything feel… possible.

"So this... this is what it's like to break through." He exhaled, marvelling at the sensation. "No wonder cultivators meditate for hundreds of years. Just to feel this again and again..."

Before he could lose himself in the feeling, the cat interrupted with a curious tilt of her head. "What dao did you connect to, anyway?"

Chen Ren didn't answer immediately, still replaying the images in his mind: the swirling stars, the dragon, and that strange vastness of space. Then it clicked, and the answer was clear as day. His lips twitched into a small smile as he spoke, almost amused by the absurdity of it all.

"The dao of money."

Yalan stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Dao of… money?"

***

The morning sun stretched its golden arms across the horizon over Cloud Mist City as Chen Ren and Tang Xiulan set up the noodle stall.

The familiar clatter of pots and wooden stools echoed through the quiet street, and the air was already carrying the faint scent of noodles as Chen Ren arranged his ingredients with practised hands. His energy felt vibrant today, surging through him in waves, a direct result of the breakthrough from last night. He could hardly contain the bounce in his steps.

Tang Xiulan paused, her sharp eyes catching his unusually light movements. "Young Master, you seem to be in a happy mood today," she remarked, tying her apron as she helped set up the stall. 

Chen Ren chuckled, shaking his head as he adjusted the display. "It's because I had some cultivation gains yesterday," he said, his voice filled with pride. "And also, our stall is picking up steam. I have a feeling with the amount of noodles we have today, we'll be working nonstop until night."

Xiulan nodded, a glint of approval in her gaze. "It'll be good then. More customers, more coins." 

Chen Ren nodded and continued setting up the stall and just then, a sudden movement caught his eye.

The white cat— Yalan, sleek and graceful as ever, leapt onto the counter, landing lightly next to him. Her eyes flicked over the setup before she curled up, sitting calmly beside him as if claiming her territory.

Chen Ren leaned down, whispering, "What are you doing here?"

The cat didn't bother looking at him. Instead, a voice echoed in his mind, startling him.

"I came to observe you." Her tone was as calm and haughty as ever. "Although I don't think you're some demonic cultivator or a shapeshifter who needs to be eradicated, the pact still binds me to watch over you. And what better place than here?"

Chen Ren blinked, momentarily taken aback by the fact that she could speak directly into his mind. Cultivation shenanigans, he thought to himself. Then, he merely shrugged and said, "You're free to stay. Besides, having a cat around might attract customers who would want to pat you."

The cat shot him a withering glare, her ears twitching in irritation. "I'm a very accommodating and generous creature, but even I have my limits. Certain acts tempt me to burn down an entire city."

Chen Ren felt his mouth widen in surprise, but he quickly gathered himself and raised an eyebrow, amused. 

"What type of acts?"

"Like the act of patting me." The cat's mental voice was sharp, like a dagger, her eyes narrowing as if daring him to test her words. 

Chen Ren stifled a laugh. "Noted." 

He gave her a sideways glance, grateful he hadn't given in to his instincts last night and tried to pat her as he would any other street cat. 

Well, maybe in the future I might be able to, he thought, smiling.

Chapter 11. Esoteric daos

When Chen Ren first found himself in the cultivation world, he'd entertained a few fantasies about what his path might look like. Would he become a sword-wielding prodigy, cleaving through sect rivals gracefully and skillfully? Or perhaps he'd find his calling in the intricate arts of arrays, mastering their complexities to shape the battlefield? And, like any man might in this strange, mystical world, he briefly considered the idea of amassing a harem— after all, that seemed to be a common theme in stories about powerful cultivators.

But making noodles? He'd definitely never expected that to be where he ended up. 

Yet, here he was, running a noodle stall that had, in just a week, become the talk of the marketplace.

Every day, a steady stream of customers came by, drawn by the novelty of an eastern delicacy that no one else in the region was offering. It wasn't just the taste of the noodles that brought them in— Chen Ren's marketing tactics had spread his name throughout the streets like wildfire. Free samples, word of mouth from his customers and the curious spectacle of his stall with the long queue had made it impossible for anyone to miss it. 

The man selling noodles, a dish unfamiliar to most, stood out even among the countless food vendors.

And then there were the kids.

Chen Ren had never been one to encourage child labour, but in this case, he saw it differently.

The group of street children who helped him were hungry, and for them, assisting with his stall wasn't about earning coins— it was about earning a meal.

According to them, there had been days when they hadn't eaten at all. Though Chen Ren hadn't lived a life on the streets, he understood enough to sympathise with them. The thought of them going hungry left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he saw this as a way to offer them something better, however small it might be.

Over the days, he'd gotten to know the kids better. The leader of the group was a girl named Mei Lin, small but fierce, with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue. She was the one who had organised the others, making sure they didn't cause too much trouble around the stall.

The boys followed her lead: Chun, the quiet one who always worked the hardest; Bo, who often tried to sneak extra noodles when he thought no one was looking; and Jian, the smallest but the one with the loudest laugh.

Thanks to his noodle business, the kids seemed to be in far better shape now. Their cheeks looked a little less hollow, and their energy had doubled, quite the difference from when he'd first met them. 

From selling sixty bowls of noodles a day, Chen Ren's business had doubled. He now dished out a hundred and twenty bowls, sometimes barely keeping up with the demand. 

The small pot he used to cook noodles wasn't enough anymore, and every morning, he had to haul back twenty pounds of noodles just to meet the appetites of his growing customer base. It wasn't just the number of bowls sold that had increased— his profit margins did too.

All the ingredients were cheap, and thanks to a little bit of ingenuity (and the connections he had through Tang Xiulan), Chen Ren had managed to cut costs even further. Vegetables, which should've eaten into his profits, were basically free compared to the other costs. 

Tang Clan regularly bought high-quality vegetables to serve to guests, but often, the excess went unused and would have spoiled if no one ate it. He figured he was doing them a favour by taking the leftovers off their hands. With the vegetables thrown into the mix, the noodles appealed more and even when they cost more, there was a steady base of customers who were willing to pay for them. 

Still, despite his booming business, the road to clearing his debts was long.

Feng Ming's threat had not disappeared, and even if Chen Ren managed to sell a hundred twenty bowls every single day for the next two months and save every last copper coin, he still wouldn't be able to pay off everything. But that wasn't the point.

The fact that he'd gotten this far at all was something worth celebrating. It was a start— A damn good one at that!

His noodle stall was only going to get bigger and better, proving that his earthly knowledge could, in fact, give him an edge in this world. This world wasn't just about swords and qi, he thought to himself with a small smirk. Sometimes, noodles could prove to be effective, too.

There was something else, too. Despite being busy from dawn until dusk with the noodle stall, Chen Ren couldn't help but notice that his cultivation had improved.

Just a week had passed since his breakthrough, but it felt like he had already made progress. It wasn't much, but the flow of qi in his core was smoother, more natural. It was as if, somehow, the act of running his business was feeding into his cultivation.

"As I said before, progressing in one's dao helps advance one's cultivation," the familiar voice of the cat echoed in his mind, a sly purr lacing her words. "Since you're working on your stall, making money every day, you're progressing your dao, and that's why you're seeing these changes in your cultivation."

Chen Ren frowned, considering her words. He'd heard about martial daos before, but… no matter how much he thought about dao of money, it felt like something completely different than those. Far more powerful even. "So, you're saying my cultivation's improving because I'm selling noodles?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying", the cat confirmed, her tone nonchalant. "But I've never seen such a dao in my lifetime. It's an esoteric dao, something I don't quite understand."

Chen Ren's frown deepened at that. "Esoteric dao?"

"Yes," the cat continued, her voice tinged with frustration as if she was explaining something common. "Esoteric daos are unconventional paths. They pop up every so often, but they're rare. Few practitioners of these daos ever make a name for themselves because they don't follow the usual paths— like swordsmanship or alchemy. The last one I heard about was a century ago. Some guy managed to merge to the dao of farming… I think he had a giant chicken that guarded his barn and annihilated a few sects."

He blinked. "A giant chicken?"

"That's right," she purred, amusement bubbling in her voice. "He and the chicken wiped out entire sects that tried to mess with him. At least that's the rumour that travelled to my ears. So, while these esoteric daos aren't common, they can be powerful in their own way."

He briefly moved his eyes away from her and watched the stall. His eyes drifted over the crowd. Business was booming, and his plan to expand was coming together. But it wasn't just the money that interested him anymore.

To his eyes, all these people seemed as if they were giant balls of qi, his to claim. 

"So, it means the more money I make from my stall, the more I'll progress in my cultivation?" He asked, his voice echoing in his mind, aimed at the cat who was in the process of stretching her body after half of a day just lying around. 

The cat's voice responded in his head, her tone unimpressed. "Not exactly. You'll progress for a while, but it'll get harder. You'll hit a point where the stall alone won't be enough." She flicked her tail lazily. "Even in martial daos, you can't just rely on the same moves forever. You have to learn new techniques, face new challenges, or do something meaningful to advance. It's the same for you… whatever-you're-calling-this-dao. Money dao? Business Dao? Noodle Dao?" She chuckled softly in his head. "Either way, just selling noodles won't be enough in the long run."

"So, you're saying I'll need more businesses than just this noodle stall to keep progressing?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Yalan purred, her voice amused. "It gets harder, not easier. Eventually, the stall won't cut it, and you'll have to find new ways to challenge yourself. Even the best cooks can't give the same dish to their master everyday. They will lose their heads if they do so."

Chen Ren's eyes flicked to Xiulan, who was handing out bowls of noodles to another satisfied customer. She was running things smoothly, which was good because it gave him time to think.

The cat's words made sense. He had already been considering expanding beyond the stall. While it was fun to grow his little operation from nothing into something more substantial, like a business empire— McDonald's of the cultivation world— he knew it wouldn't be enough.

He had no intention of making his entire life revolve around selling noodles, even if it was turning out to be a surprising success.

I was anyway thinking about making new things. Despite having magical kung fu, the common population severely lacks things that could make life easier, Chen Ren thought to himself. The idea of having multiple ventures appealed to him.

There were too many opportunities in this world to ignore. Plus, if his cultivation was tied to his business success, why not expand? He wasn't going to limit himself.

As his thoughts shifted, another nagging memory came to the surface— the dragon. He hadn't asked Yalan about it yet, not since the day the dragon first appeared.

It had vanished just as quickly as it had come, leaving him with questions that had been clawing at him for a week now. The dragon hadn't reappeared, but he couldn't get it out of his head. 

I should probably ask about the dragon, he thought, but just as the question was about to form in his mind, movement at the front of the stall caught his attention.

The line was moving up, but instead of another customer, a man in a guard's uniform stepped forward, disregarding the long line completely. 

Chen Ren's eyes looked over the man, taking in the details. He was broad-shouldered, standing a little taller than most, with a rough stubble covering his square jaw. His uniform was well-worn, the kind of attire that had seen its fair share of dirty work. His eyes were sharp, but there was something off in the way he looked down at Chen Ren— like he was sizing him up.

Chen Ren stepped forward, his voice light. "Do you need some noodles?"

The guard didn't respond right away, his gaze lingering on Chen Ren for just a moment too long, as if they were locked in some kind of silent contest of will.

Chen Ren raised his eyebrows, wondering if this was about to turn into some strange show of strength, but before he could speak again, the guard's voice rumbled low.

"I've gotten a tip that you don't have the licence to open a stall here," the guard said, looking around at the people whose attention slowly started to shift towards them. 

Chen Ren opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the guard slammed his fist down on the edge of the stall. The wooden surface shook under the force of the blow, sending one of the bowls teetering dangerously. But before it could fall, Chen Ren's reflexes kicked in, and he caught the bowl mid-fall, placing it safely back on the counter.

"I do have a permit," Chen Ren said calmly, his eyes narrowing as he met the guard's gaze.

The guard scoffed. "Where is it, then?"

Chen Ren reached into his robes, his fingers brushing against the familiar texture of parchment as he pulled out the permit.

The paper had a slight crinkle to it, a sign of its frequent use over the past few days. He had prepared for this exact scenario, knowing that in a city like this, a rising business was bound to attract some unwanted attention. With a calmness that he didn't feel on the inside, he extended the permit to the guard.

The man snatched it with deliberate slowness, his eyes scanning the document as if trying to find something—anything—that could be used against the stall. 

His lips twitched slightly as he read the details, and the crease in his brow deepened, betraying his frustration.

"It's a new one," the guard muttered, his voice carrying an edge that suggested he was searching for a reason to doubt.

Chen Ren didn't flinch. His expression remained neutral, though a small smirk threatened to tug at the corner of his lips. "The stall is new too," he replied coolly, his gaze unwavering.

The guard's eyes flicked up from the permit, locking onto Chen Ren's face. "I've heard you're selling some kind of… eastern delicacy," he said, his tone dripping with suspicion. "Is that true, or are you faking it?"

For the first time, Chen Ren's brows lightly knitted together. Faking it? Yes, he was doing that, but the guard had no reason to care about that. 

His voice was firm as he responded, "I got it from the east. You don't see anyone else selling noodles like mine, do you?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze narrowing. "And even if it were fake, I didn't hear any regulation about false advertising. Did I miss that section in the guidelines?"

The guard opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue the point, but he faltered once he saw Chen Ren's sharp gaze. "There is…" he began, his words trailing off uncertainty.

Chen Ren seized the opportunity. "There isn't," he said, his voice sharp but calm. "I read the guidelines thoroughly. I even asked the clerk who issued me the permit. There's nothing in there about false advertising. So if you want to accuse me of something, make sure you're ready for the consequences. And remember—" his voice dropped slightly, "I'm not a mortal."

The guard's eyes widened ever so slightly, the shift in Chen Ren's tone clearly unsettling him.

His gaze flicked downward, taking in Chen Ren's robes. For the first time, he seemed to truly notice the fine quality of the fabric, the noticeable patterns woven into it. His expression changed, the initial aggression fading into something more cautious. 

Without another word, the guard handed the permit back, his movements stiff. "I'll be keeping an eye on the stalls from now on," he muttered, the earlier bluster gone from his voice. "Don't do anything shady."

Chen Ren simply nodded, watching as the guard turned and walked away, his back a little too rigid, his steps a little too quick. The tension in the air seemed to lift slightly as the man disappeared into the crowd.

He let out a long, measured sigh, the weight of the interaction slipping off his shoulders.

"What was that about?" Xiulan's voice broke through the moment, and Chen Ren turned to see her standing nearby, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"My first guess was a bribe," Chen Ren said, shaking his head slightly. "But he didn't ask for anything when we were talking. Never even hinted at it. I think it's more than that."

Xiulan's frown deepened. "More than that? What do you mean?"

Chen Ren's gaze flicked toward the spot where the guard had stood moments ago. "He didn't take anything from any other stall. Not even a glance in their direction. He came straight to us. And then he left, just like that. He probably wanted to cause trouble for any little thing he could find, but got scared once he realised I'm a cultivator. He was aiming for us specifically."

"That's… bad news," Xiulan said softly. She crossed her arms, a frown settling on her brow as she considered Chen Ren's words. "Do you think someone is targeting us?"

"Potentially," Chen Ren replied, his voice steady. He leaned against the stall, gazing out at the bustling crowd that had formed, the scent of his freshly made noodles wafting through the air. "After all, we did get big in such a short amount of time. People are bound to be jealous of a growing rival business. It's human nature. Now we need to think about who might be out there trying to get us and prepare for whatever comes our way."

Xiulan nodded, something akin to caution glinting in her eyes as she returned to her tasks, deftly arranging bowls and garnishing the noodles with fresh herbs.

But before Chen Ren could delve further into his thoughts, a familiar voice piped up from his mind. "This seems annoying, but I've seen it a lot before."

He knotted his hands together and stared at the dissolving crowd, thinking of what Yalan had just said. "Where have you seen this?"

The cat's voice was almost nonchalant— as always, yet there was an undercurrent of seriousness. "I was part of a sect once. You wouldn't believe how much infighting there was whenever a talented individual rose to prominence. People who felt threatened by that talent would either try to pull them into their camp or eliminate them entirely. It was fairly straightforward."

Chen Ren felt a chill run down his spine at her words. The life of a cultivator was often harsh, but hearing it from someone who had lived through it made it all the more real.

Yalan continued, "And if anyone tries to kill you, well… guards are mortals anyway."

Chen Ren shook his head slightly, then stopped doing it, noticing how he might look to the outsiders. "I don't want to kill anyone, especially not over a noodle shop conflict. There are better ways to resolve this."

"Like what?" the cat pressed, her curiosity piqued.

He fell silent for a moment, considering his options. Then, after a pause filled with contemplation, he finally spoke. "I might have a few plans. But first, we need to find out who we're standing against."

Chapter 12. Tainting reputation

Chen Ren's thoughts flowed like the river before a storm, the calm before inevitable trouble. Like any plan of his, starting a noodle business would never be smooth. It wasn't just the rice, the vegetables, or the mortar that demanded attention— oh no, where there was meat, the wild animals came.

Trouble, in any form, seemed drawn to him like moths to flame. After all, the path of a cultivator never allowed peace for long.

And now, even this humble noodle stall had become a stage for confrontation. His hand tightened around the spoon as he remembered how the guard had approached him, all swagger and false bravado.

The man's eyes spoke of arrogance, the kind born from ignorance. His words were aimed at attacking him and finding any reason to crumble the name Chen Ren had been creating around the marketplace. 

Whoever sent him had no idea of him. No idea of who they were trying to bully. No idea that Chen Ren was a cultivator. That was a minus point for whoever was behind, not doing enough research. 

But that was what made things interesting, wasn't it? Most wouldn't dare cross someone who could split stones with a finger, let alone simmer broth with a flicker of qi. The guard's ignorance had saved his skin— just barely. 

However, Chen Ren doubted they'd just give up and not try something more to accomplish whatever goal they had in mind. 

He sighed, stirring the broth with deliberate slowness as all these questions and confusions came to his mind one after another. "Where there's meat, the beasts gather," he muttered under his breath. 

Being a cultivator had saved his stall this time, but Cloud Mist City nestled so close to a guardian sect and was home to more cultivators than he could count. He knew better than to rely on his status alone to protect him. A cultivator here was like a drop of water in the ocean— easy to blend in, easy to get swallowed by something bigger.

Even so, a small grin tugged at his lips. Let them come. Rivals or not, he had been in tougher battles than mere noodle stalls could ever provoke. If his enemies thought he'd be easy prey, they would soon discover just how deep the water truly ran. 

For the next two days, Chen Ren's mind moved like the shifting clouds, mapping out scenarios, and contemplating every possible angle.

He wasn't one for brute force, not when he could win with finesse. Violence, while always an option, wasn't his first choice. His gaze flicked to the cat beside him, her amber eyes glowing as she looked at the streaming flow of consumers. She was his hidden trump card, a power he didn't dare reveal to the world yet. Not while he was still weak and unable to protect himself against anyone of a higher realm. 

His cultivation, though progressing, was still in the early stages of body forging. Any opponent above that realm would crush him like dry leaves underfoot. Thus, brawn had to take a back seat. His brain, however, was sharper than any blade.

So, he focused on his noodle stall for some time until he decided on what was best to be done next. 

Fortunately, everything ran without a hitch. 

He made more money each day, his hands growing more accustomed to the daily grind. The qi that once surged through his core was diminishing, just as the cat had warned him. But that didn't stop him from keeping a vigilant eye on the horizon, half-expecting a debtor or some envious soul to appear, hungry for the wealth he was making. But no one came. Not yet.

On the third morning, an unease settled over him like a shroud. It wasn't just paranoia; this was something real, something tangible. Old Man Tian's hunched figure appeared near the stall, his weathered face grave with news.

"Young master Chen Ren," the old man grumbled, his voice a low rasp. His eyes narrowed towards the broth as he looked back up at Chen Ren who gave him his undivided attention, "I've heard it. For sure this time. They're going to make their move today. They're jealous your stall is minting money so fast."

Though the facts were loud, his voice was comparatively low, cautious enough not to let anyone else hear. 

Chen Ren subtly nodded, stirring his broth with a forced calmness he didn't feel on the inside. "I see," he replied evenly, his mind already running through his contingency plans. "Well, I've prepared everything. It should be fine. You're sure they won't act before the afternoon?"

Old Man Tian nodded, squinting toward the marketplace. "Yes, not before. They're waiting for the crowds to build up first."

Chen Ren smiled. "Good. That gives me enough time to finish the morning rush."

Old Man Tian nodded firmly. "I wish you all the best."

Chen Ren exhaled slowly, his mind sharpening as he watched the old man.

At first, he'd considered Old Man Tian as a possible culprit behind his troubles. They had a rivalry, after all. The old man had his stall nearby, and while their competition wasn't exactly cutthroat, it was enough to raise suspicions. But Old Man Tian was no fool.

He'd been the one to help Chen Ren secure the elusive permit for his stall in the first place. If he had wanted him out of the way, he could have easily tipped off the guard about his status as a cultivator. Fortunately, Old Man Tian was wise enough not to take the fight against a cultivator. 

Shaking off the thought, Chen Ren returned to the moment just as the old man spoke again.

"So, if all goes according to plan, you'll lend me the kids, right?"

Chen Ren gave a slow nod. "Yes, for an hour. They'll help advertise your stall, but you've got to feed them twice in return. Daily. No shortcuts."

He grinned, his yellowed teeth showing. "Yes, yes, I will. I'm fair."

With a satisfied nod, the old man turned to shuffle back toward his own stall, hurrying through the crowd knowing the morning rush was about to begin. As soon as he was out of earshot, Xiulan's soft voice cut through the morning air. "You sure it's okay to give away your marketing tricks like that?"

Chen Ren smirked, his gaze still fixed on the swirling broth before him. "It'll spread no matter what. At least this way, the kids get more food. The only reason Old Man Tian's even asking through me is because his breath scared them all away."

Chen Ren snickered at his own words while Xiulan let out a small chuckle, her amusement clear as they moved toward the bustling stall, which started getting busier considering more people were coming. 

The line of customers waiting for noodles stretched longer with each passing minute as he and Tang Xiulan got to work.

The clatter of bowls and the murmur of conversation filled the air, as Chen Ren worked in rhythm with the growing demand, dishing out one bowl after another in almost mechanical movements as his muscles grew accustomed to the motion. 

Hours passed by and soon, the sun was halfway through setting. Afternoon was here and with it, the crowd doubled, adding in the workers who were here to grab lunch. 

"Here you go," Chen Ren handed a bowl of vegetable noodles to an older woman. She grabbed it with both her hands and then balanced it in one hand to pay seven copper wen. 

Chen Ren retrieved the money with a small smile and focused on the next customer. 

Everything was moving, just as planned, but he knew this peace wouldn't last.

Yalan, who had been lounging lazily in the sun, suddenly opened one of her flared amber eyes. "I see some movement up ahead," she told Chen Ren, her voice smooth as silk.

Chen Ren's gaze swept across the bustling crowd before locking onto two men moving purposefully through the throng. Unlike the leisurely pace of the other customers browsing stalls and sampling goods, these two stood out immediately. He squinted his eyes to take a good look at both of them— to clearly know what he was going to be dealing with. 

The first man who stormed forward was a tall, skinny figure with broad shoulders. His dark hair fell in disarray around his forehead, and his brows were knitted together in a fierce scowl. His black eyes burned with indignation, radiating a palpable intensity that made those around him instinctively step back as he walked, pushing past them and clenching his fists. 

In a pronounced difference, the second man trailed behind him, frail and gaunt, as if he had not gotten a proper meal in days. His skin was a sickly shade of pale, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead, betraying his distress. 

Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes hinted at exhaustion, while his trembling hands grasped the edge of the tall man for support. Each unsteady step he took seemed to echo his nausea, and his thin lips were drawn tight, a silent plea for respite from the situation he found himself in.

"Here it comes," Chen Ren muttered under his breath, bracing himself.

The two men barged through the line, causing a stir among the waiting customers. 

The angry one, face flushed with indignation, wasted no time before raising his voice. "Everyone, stop eating those noodles!" he shouted, pointing a trembling finger at Chen Ren's stall. "They'll make you sick! You might even get poisoned! This man is vile, feeding low-quality food to innocent people! Look at my brother— he ate here yesterday, and now he's been puking his guts out all day. The herbalist says he won't heal for a week!"

At his outburst, a murmur of uncertainty rippled through the crowd like someone blew a horn through the silence. Customers froze mid-bite, their chopsticks suspended in the air as they exchanged bewildered looks. Some stared down at their bowls, looking as if the once-tempting noodles now appeared less appetising under the scrutiny of accusation, while others cast wary glances toward Chen Ren, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.

A few patrons instinctively backed away from the stall, their movements hesitant and cautious, as if they were retreating from a looming threat.

Whispers flitted through the air, weaving a line of doubt among the onlookers. "Did you hear what he said?" one woman murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sick from the noodles? Is it true?"

The atmosphere thickened with suspicion, as the aroma of the freshly cooked noodles, once enticing, was now tainted by the accusation.

Chen Ren could feel the daggers of doubt piercing through the air and trying to stab him. 

He looked to his left, ignoring the whispers for a second. A child near the front of the line clutched his mother's hand tightly, his wide eyes darting between the angry man and the noodles, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in mood.

Now, how can I let you ruin a nice meal? And my reputation? 

Chen Ren narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. 

"What nonsense are you spouting?" His words cut through the growing commotion, but the angry man wasn't finished.

"Spouting lies, am I?" The man's face twisted into an exaggerated mask of righteous fury. He jabbed a finger toward his pale, nauseous companion. "Look at my brother! He's practically on his deathbed, and all because of your noodles!"

Chen Ren's gaze flicked to the sickly-looking guy, then back to the accuser. "You decided to bring your brother who's on his deathbed to sprout bullshit? Seems like you care about accusing me more than your brother. Tell me, what proof do you have that my noodles caused this?" 

His voice was steady, but his qi simmered in his dantian, ready to rise at a moment's notice.

The man seized the opportunity, launching into a dramatic tale. "My brother here is an apprentice scribe. We're so poor we can only afford one meal a day, and yesterday, he spent it on your wretched noodles!" he spat the words one after another in extreme slowness to emphasise his point. "Now he's so ill he can't even stand properly. You can't deflect responsibility this time. Return my money tenfold, and publicly apologise for poisoning him!"

A sharp anger flared in Chen Ren, but his expression remained straight. He let just a flicker of his qi surface, his eyes gleaming with a subtle, icy chill. It wasn't much, but enough to send a ripple of unease through the man in front of him. The accuser faltered, taking a nervous step back as if an unseen force had brushed against him.

But before Chen Ren could press further, a voice rang out from the edge of the marketplace. "What's going on here?"

A guard, tall with broad shoulders, made his way through the crowd. His face was rugged, framed by a jawline that could have been carved from stone, and his dark hair was cropped short, highlighting the sharp angles of his features. His eyes swept over the scene with an air of authority, hand resting casually on his hips. His armour bore the crest of the city watch, gleaming in the sunlight as he stepped closer, his presence instantly silencing the gathering commotion.

Chen Ren's eyes flicked to the guard, and his thoughts shifted. This wasn't the same one from before.

He guessed that the previous guard must've gotten spooked and backed out. This new one had a different air— he wasn't just here to intimidate. He was part of the plan, a second pawn set in motion.

Chen Ren's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm. Whatever scheme was unfolding, he was ready for it. 

The angry man immediately moved towards the guard, telling his fake story, face strained with rage. 

After hearing the man's story, the guard took a deep breath and turned toward Chen Ren, his expression serious. "Is it true? You fed this man's brother noodles, and now he's sick? You need to come with us to the guard station, so we can solve this problem once and for all."

Guard station? So they planned to drag him through the city's bureaucracy to ruin him, and the guard was playing along. The air around Chen Ren seemed to still as his annoyance built.

"There's no proof he even ate my noodles," Chen Ren said, his voice steady yet sharp. 

The guard crossed his arms, unimpressed. "It doesn't matter. Someone's accusing you of making them sick, and the law is the law. We'll solve this at the guardhouse. Now, come quietly."

"No." Chen Ren's voice dropped an octave, and the edge of his patience showed. "You can't take me based on nothing but hearsay."

The guard's eyes hardened as he ran a hard hand through his jaw.

"I heard you are a cultivator, but you still have to follow the city's laws. And don't think you're above them— there are cultivators among the city guards as well. So, comply."

Chen Ren frowned. The man didn't look like the type to bulge if he only used his words, but he wasn't going to let them ruin his reputation so easily. If he really went to the station, rumours would spread that his noodles actually made people sick, no matter if he came out innocent or not. 

He glanced at the crowd— dozens of eyes fixed on him, waiting for what he would do next.

"Wait," Chen Ren said, voice rising just enough to capture everyone's attention. He turned to the sickly man and his accuser. "You're not just claiming my noodles made him sick— you're tarnishing the reputation of my stall. I can't let that stand."

Before the guard could respond, Chen Ren strode to his stall, scooping up a bowl of freshly made noodles. He held it out toward the guard. "Here. Try it."

The guard eyed the bowl, suspicion thick in his gaze. "I won't eat bad noodles."

Chen Ren shrugged, calm and composed. "Fine. I'll eat it myself." Without hesitation, he took a generous bite, chewing slowly as if savouring the flavour. Then, he turned, facing the crowd now gathered around the scene.

"You see that?" Chen Ren's voice rang out over the murmurs. "If my noodles were bad, why would I eat them myself?"

The tension in the air shifted as people began to exchange uncertain glances, and the unease that had crept into the crowd started to dissipate.

Chen Ren met their gazes one by one, making sure they saw his calm and certainty. "My reputation— and my stall's reputation— are on the line. If my food was dangerous, I wouldn't serve it, and I definitely wouldn't eat it."

The guard faltered for a moment, and the crowd's whispering grew louder as they started to reconsider the accusation. Chen Ren wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood tall.

The crowd had begun to sway in Chen Ren's favour when a voice cut through the rising murmurs.

"Just accept that your noodles made someone sick," a deep, grating voice came from across the street. 

All the eyes, including Chen Ren's own, turned towards where the voice came from. 

The speaker was an older man with a broad chest, a grizzled beard, and a sneer that never quite left his face. He looked like he could fight with two men at the same time and end up winning for how his physique was built— but again, looks could be deceiving.

His name was Jiang Wu, a stall owner who sold steamed buns. Behind him, stood his two burly sons, arms crossed, their expressions mirroring their father's contempt. "You're just trying to save face. But everyone here knows that when there's smoke, there's fire."

Jiang Wu's words struck a chord with some of the onlookers, their uncertainty flickering back to life as they glanced between Chen Ren and the sickly man. The balance was delicate— too delicate. Chen Ren's fingers twitched at his side, the glint in his eyes sharpening as he regarded Jiang Wu with a cool gaze.

Before Chen Ren could respond, the guard stepped forward again, voice firm. "Enough of this. You need to come with me, cultivator or not. We can settle this at the guardhouse."

Chen Ren's stance remained unyielding, his voice calm but resolute. "I won't go with you. If you want to move me, you can try."

The guard bristled, hand moving toward his baton as if testing Chen Ren's words. But just as tension threatened to break, a voice, clear and commanding, echoed over the crowd.

"What's going on here?"

All eyes turned toward the source of the voice. Walking toward the scene was Tang Yuqiu, the young miss of the Tang Clan, with her maid trailing a step behind her. Her presence suddenly became obvious in the marketplace chaos— a figure of poise and authority amidst the rabble.

Her eyes briefly scanned the situation, landing on Chen Ren with a raised brow.

Chen Ren felt a smile tug at his lips. Finally, it was time to turn this around.

This was the shift he needed, and it couldn't have come at a better time. He gave her a respectful nod as she reached the front, his mind already racing through the next steps of his plan.

Chapter 13. Turning it over

In a matter of seconds, the attention that had been focused on Chen Ren shifted entirely to the woman who had just arrived. Her attire stood out against the modest crowd— an elegant red robe embroidered with delicate white roses at the hem, accompanied by a necklace and rings that spoke of wealth and status. She moved with a grace that naturally commanded attention, her presence turning heads as she approached and stood in front of Chen Ren's stall.

Anyone with a discerning eye could instantly recognise her as someone of importance. 

However, the moment the heavy curious eyes fell on her, she spoke, her voice coming out clear and firm— similar to how tall she stood. 

"What is going on?"

The guard took a deep breath, trying to compose himself as he faced the young miss. "It's like this," he began, his voice faltering as he gestured toward the stall. "One of these two brothers— locals— came by yesterday and ate at his stall. Not long after, this one started complaining about stomach pains, claiming he was poisoned by the noodles he served. He is saying the food was… spoiled, and that it made him sick. This is his elder brother, telling how this one's at his deathbed and wants justice against the stall owner who fed his brother bad noodles."

His words came quickly as if to rid himself of the burden of the accusation, but once he finished, Tang Yuqiu merely cast a sharp look at him and asked, her tone measured but piercing, "So, you believe he sold sickly noodles?"

The guard hesitated, his confidence wavering under her steady gaze. It wasn't just Tang Yuqiu and Chen Ren, but even the consumers who surrounded the stall looked at the guard awaiting a reasonable response.

"That's what I've heard," he said, his voice faltering. "We need to investigate, and for that, the man must come with us."

Her frown deepened as her eyes swept over the gathered crowd, scanning their faces quietly. Her gaze looked sharper than a razor as she dragged it along the people. Even the air felt uncomfortable as a few seconds passed by. 

After a pause, she turned her attention back to the guard. "If you don't know," she began, her voice cutting through the tension. "Let me clarify. The noodles he sells are made from rice, a fact anyone here can see from their texture and appearance. The Tang Clan has a direct arrangement with Chen Ren, and I, myself, oversee the transaction and can guarantee that the rice is of high quality without any blemishes on it."

"B-but—"

She stepped closer, her gaze hardening as she stared the guard down. "I am Tang Yuqiu, daughter of the Tang Clan head, Tang Jihao. If you truly mean to make this accusation, you are not merely questioning Chen Ren but challenging— no, questioning the reputation of the entire Tang household. Is that a risk you are willing to take? Tell me!"

The revelation of her identity caused more than a few people to look at her differently.

Tang Clan might not be a cultivator clan, but they had deep pockets to hire a lot of them. And everyone in the city knew the kind of reputation they uphold. 

The guard paled visibly, beads of sweat forming at his temple and around his shaved moustache. He licked his lips and visibly contemplated what she had said. And as the man hesitated, murmurs rippled through the crowd. 

The two brothers, who had stirred up the commotion, looked ashen— especially the sickly one, who seemed on the verge of collapse. He was holding onto his dear brother, who now looked to want nothing more than to run, hide himself and never look behind. 

Desperation flickered in the guard's eyes as he stammered, "N-No, Young Miss Tang, we were only trying to do our job."

Tang Yuqiu, raised an eyebrow, her gaze cold. "Your job, is it? A job that involves creating a public spectacle and tarnishing the reputation of someone not only a cultivator but also a guest of the Tang Clan? Huh! You have guts." Her voice carried a dangerous edge, and she leaned in slightly. "My father meets the City Lord every year at the Winter Solstice Festival. Perhaps I should mention this little incident to him, let him know about how the guards of this city treat honoured guests of our clan."

The guard paled further, his bravado crumbling. He took a step forward and raised one hand in the air. "N-No, young miss, it wasn't my intention to go against the Tang Clan! I—"

"But you're saying that there is something wrong with the noodles. You also sounded pretty adamant about taking Chen Ren to the guardhouse."

"I mean— that's what—"

Before he could finish, the shopkeeper, Jiang Wu who had been accusing Chen Ren interrupted, desperation in his voice. 

"Wait! It might not be the rice— but what about the vegetables? They could have been bad! I have seen him handing out those vegetable noodles!"

That statement turned all the attention from the cornered guard towards Jiang Wu. 

Tang Yuqiu's eyes narrowed, and she turned her attention to Chen Ren, her voice calm as she pointed at the baskets of fresh vegetables sitting on top of his stall. "The vegetables— aren't they from the Tang Clan manor as well? Isn't that right, Chen Ren?"

Chen Ren quickly nodded, grateful for her support. "Yes, they are, Yuqiu." His eyes briefly met hers, and he flashed a look of silent gratitude. She narrowed her eyes slightly at him for calling her by her first name, but quickly understood his intention as he added. "The man is just unaware of my close relationship with the Tang Clan and how I have no reason to scour bad ingredients when I could get the best ones in the city easily."

The guard, seeing the tide turning against him, immediately bowed at Tang Yuqiu. "I'm sorry for what just happened here, Young Miss. It seems like this is all a big misunderstanding! Please allow me to correct my mistakes!"

"Go on. I would like to see that." Tang Yuqiu crossed her arms as every eye moved to the guard. 

"You!" The guard turned towards the aggressive brother. "It seems the noodles didn't make your brother sick after all. Now, get out of here unless you want me to arrest you for defamation of an honoured cultivator!" His voice trembled as he addressed the two brothers.

The sick brother clung desperately to the taller one, his breath ragged, skin pale and slick with sweat. His hands trembled as he gripped his sibling's arm, eyes wide with fear. The taller one, his face drained of all colour, cast frantic glances around the marketplace, his composure unravelling.

For a moment, the crowd stood frozen, watching as panic took hold of the two. Their movements became jittery, and uncontrolled, as the sick brother let out a strained gasp. Without exchanging a word, they both turned, stumbling over their own feet and bolted. The sick one clenched tighter to the taller, and dragged along as they fled, leaving nothing but murmurs and curious eyes after him. 

The guard, desperate to escape his own shame, bowed again, this time toward both Tang Yuqiu and Chen Ren, muttering a hasty apology before attempting to slip away.

But Chen Ren stepped forward, his hand rising to stop him. "Wait," he said, his voice calm but firm, freezing the guard in place.

Chen Ren's eyes gleamed with subtle amusement as he addressed the guard. "Since you're already here, why not check the ingredients at the other stalls as well? I'm sure you might find someone worthy of your attention. After all, it wouldn't be right to leave empty-handed, would it?" His tone was light, but the underlying message was clear.

The guard, catching on to the meaning behind his words, quickly nodded. "Yes, yes, you're right. I was only here to ensure the stall owners were following the rules anyway." 

His tone was hurried, eager to deflect from the earlier confrontation. He looked around as if he didn't know where to begin, his eyes shifting from one stall to another, even looking at the Old Man Tian's stall, which was right across the road. 

"Well!" Chen Ren casually gestured toward Jiang Wu and the steamed bun stall behind him. "Why not start with that stall over there?"

The guard's eyes widened slightly, realising what Chen Ren was hinting at. 

"Of course," he replied, as Jiang Wu and his two sons shook from the response. Their eyes and mouth widened at what was about to come. 

With a final, shallow bow, the guard moved toward the accused stall, leaving the crowd whispering and pointing fingers at the steamed buns. 

***

The crowd thinned after the commotion ended, yet the stall remained lively. Steam curled upward from the large pot, carrying the scent of savoury broth and freshly cooked noodles.

Chen Ren stood beside the stall, watching as Tang Yuqiu elegantly lifted a bowl of vegetable noodles to her lips, her expression unreadable as she took a delicate bite. Her maid stood nearby, eating in silence, the soft clink of their chopsticks the only sound between them.

Xiulan effortlessly managed the stall, handing bowls to waiting customers with the same precision one might expect from a master swordsman, her movements swift yet graceful and well-practised. Meanwhile, the Yalan slept lazily on a shaded ledge nearby, undisturbed by the flurry of activity.

The scene felt peaceful in a way Chen Ren hadn't expected after the earlier confrontation.

Just as he glanced over at Tang Yuqiu, she tilted her head, her gaze fixed on a distant scene. Following her line of sight, Chen Ren saw Jiang Wu being dragged away by the same guard who moments before tried to arrest him. The shopkeeper's sons stumbled behind, crying loudly as the crowd murmured, staring at the spectacle of the family being hauled off for selling expired ingredients.

It was a sight to behold— justice served in the most public ways.

"You know," Tang Yuqiu spoke softly between bites, her eyes never leaving the scene. "They'll likely be back on the street within a week. Stall owners often have good connections with the guards or others in the market. They're the first to be disturbed if anything happens after all."

Chen Ren smirked slightly, nodding as he wiped his hands on a cloth. "I know. Jiang Wu has ties with the captain of the guard who patrols this area. It's how he managed to pull off this entire setup against me in the first place." He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd still gossiping about the incident. "He'll definitely return— but his reputation? That's over."

Tang Yuqiu raised a brow, curious. "And you're fine with that? He dared to go frame a cultivator. I thought you'd go straight to killing. Or at least beat them up"

Chen Ren nodded. "I could have tried to flip the entire incident back on him earlier, but it would've been his word against mine. Even with proof, he could've dismissed it as baseless accusations. But now?" He motioned toward him, who was still being dragged through the market. "Now, everyone will know he's the one who sold faulty food. It's not just a rumour anymore— it's fact. Also, I don't want to break any laws of the city. Even if cultivators are hot-headed, any confrontation within the city would get you a trip down the pits, cultivator or not. And it's beneath me to challenge them to a public duel."

Tang Yuqiu paused, her lips curling into a faint smile as she took another bite. 

Chen Ren leaned against the stall, his eyes scanning the bustling market. "Moreover," he said, a hint of calculation in his voice. "I used this whole situation to make my connection to you and the Tang Clan known. Now, none of these people will dare bother me. I don't want to deal with nonsense like this again."

"You've got more brains than I expected."

"I haven't put them to proper use in a long time. But when I do, they work just fine."

Her eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Planning to use them more often from now on?"

"Yeah, that's the plan," he said, turning to her with an appreciative nod. "And... Thank you for helping me out this time. I couldn't have pulled this off without you."

Yuqiu's chopsticks froze mid-air as she blinked, taken aback by his sincerity. Her lips parted, but she quickly regained her composure, giving him a short nod. "So, should I consider it a favour?"

Chen Ren rubbed the back of his neck, his expression thoughtful. "Sure. Just don't ask for anything outrageous. I'm already in debt as it is."

Yuqiu laughed softly, a sound more genuine than before. "I'm not planning to. But," her tone shifted, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "It might not be as easy as you think."

Chen Ren could only smile wryly, knowing full well that with someone like Tang Yuqiu, favours were rarely ever simple.

***

A/N - If you are liking it, please consider following it. It really helps on Rising stars.

Chapter 14. Right kind of opportunity (Bonus chapter)

Chen Ren leaned against the wooden frame of his stall, arms crossed, eyes watching the flow of people on Market Street.

It had been a week since Jiang Wu's little stunt had been decimated by him— trying to sabotage him with rumours about his noodles. And now, like clockwork, every vendor kept their distance from him and no one dared to go against him. 

As expected, Jiang Wu's steamed bun stall had seen fewer and fewer customers each day. In a business where word of mouth ruled like a tyrant, faulty ingredients were a death sentence. The foolish man had cursed his own livelihood.

Meanwhile, Chen Ren's fortunes were a rising tide. More customers came daily, their numbers swelling as though drawn by an invisible current. A bowl of noodles had become a staple of the market crowd, bringing him more business than he could have anticipated.

"120 to 130 bowls a day…" he murmured, running the numbers in his head.

At 5 to 7 copper wen per bowl, that meant he could earn between 600 and 910 copper wen daily. Over the course of a month, the numbers compounded further. After deducting costs for ingredients, wood for the fire, and other essentials, he was left with a profit margin that hovered around 150 silver wen every month. It was more money than he had ever held in his hands in this world, and even after paying Tang Xiulan for her help, there was still a respectable sum left for himself. 

Yet when he considered the mountain of debt he owed—the price for his medallion— this new fortune was more like a drop in the ocean. He would be able to reclaim the medallion, yes, but it would be tight. Perhaps, just barely, by the end of the set time.

He also had to remember the fact that Feng Ming wasn't his only debtor. 

But Chen Ren didn't worry too much. Why should he? His first business venture was thriving, and along the way, he had unknowingly connected to the Dao of Money. It was esoteric in nature, something most cultivators overlooked in their pursuit of power, but Chen Ren had felt its pull, its hidden current.

Money flowed like qi— always moving, always circulating, with its own momentum. And momentum, Chen Ren knew, was everything. With the ideas swirling in his mind like a vortex, he felt certain he would conquer his debts sooner than expected. His thoughts were already moving beyond the simple act of selling noodles.

But for now, he pushed those ambitions aside. There were other things to focus on. His first goal— stabilising the stall— had been met. It was time to shift his focus inward.

He should begin to devote more time to learning about cultivation techniques, something he had neglected in his pursuit of profit. A balance needed to be struck. After all, the Dao was not just about silver and copper. 

***

In the quiet, secluded garden of the Tang Clan, Chen Ren stood before a wooden training dummy. The air was still, disturbed only by the soft rustling of leaves, and the warmth of the afternoon sun kissed his skin. His hands flexed in front of him, muscles tensing as he focused on his next move.

"[Thundering Fist!]" he yelled, thrusting his fists forward with force.

A spark of lightning arced out from his knuckles, crackling faintly in the air before dissipating. His punch connected with the dummy, causing a few minor cracks to spread across its surface.

Chen Ren stepped back, his brows furrowing in frustration. He glanced over at Yalan lounging nearby, her amber eyes half-closed as she basked lazily in the sun.

"You sure this isn't a faulty technique?" he asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Yalan didn't bother to open her eyes fully, stretching out lazily. "It's not faulty," she purred. The rest of the words came aloud. "It's one of the few fist techniques passed down in the Chen Clan. Works well with your element. Thunder resonates with your qi. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to pick up a sword."

Chen Ren followed Yalan's gaze, glancing over at the neatly arranged swords and cultivation manuals lying on the side. The Chen Clan had always been a clan of swordsmen, known for their mastery of blade techniques.

It was clear why the old Chen Ren had wanted to join the Soaring Sword Sect— everything in his upbringing had pointed to it. But for the former, the thought of wielding a sword left him cold.

He wasn't interested in close-combat weapons. Swords, spears, hatchets, axes— they were cool to play with in games, but in real life, he would rather keep his distance from the enemy. 

Hence, the idea of wielding a bow had intrigued him ever since he first entered this world. To defend from a distance, to strike from afar— that was more his style. But cultivators who specialised in bows were rare. 

Bows required such fine precision and balance between strength and qi that it was hard to even find one that could withstand the power of a cultivator.

For now, he was stuck with the basics, working on his form and balance with these fist techniques. Even though it was a close-combat technique, it would be smart to learn a technique or two like this. 

He had to start somewhere, and at least the [Thundering Fist] seemed to align with his element, even if he couldn't fully control it yet.

He had also read in the manual that it could be used to throw around arcs of lightning, even from a distance at a greater mastery, so there was more than enough reason to learn it.

Taking a deep breath, Chen Ren squared up with the dummy once more, his fists raised. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sense the flow of qi in the air. This time, as he struck forward again, he could feel it— the energy around him becoming more tangible.

The qi was beginning to respond to his movements, his strikes gaining a subtle weight behind them.

"[Thundering Fist!]" he called out again, his fist cutting through the air. This time, the sparks of lightning were stronger, lingering a bit longer before vanishing. As he pulled his hand back, he glanced down at his arms.

Lightning crackled faintly along his skin, running up his forearms. His control over his qi was growing, and with it, the technique's potential. A slow grin crept across his face.

"Better," he muttered, feeling the thrum of power starting to build within him.

Chen Ren flexed his fingers, watching the faint arcs of lightning still dancing along his forearms. The power was starting to feel more natural, almost as if it belonged there. But a thought gnawed at the back of his mind.

He glanced at Yalan, now lazily stretching, completely unbothered by his struggles.

"Hey," he called out. "You sure this is just a mortal-grade technique?"

Yalan's tail twitched, and she opened one eye to peer at him. "Yes, it's a mortal-grade technique," she replied with a yawn. "If it were earth-grade, you'd barely be able to perform it. Most earth-grade techniques require a lot more qi. Even though you're starting to sense it, using qi in techniques is an entirely different art."

Chen Ren frowned, running a hand over his arm, where the lightning had cracked moments before. "And why doesn't the lightning harm me?"

Yalan sat up, blinking as if the answer should've been obvious. "You've got lightning affinity spirit roots," she said. "Your affinity gives you a natural resistance. The technique won't harm you unless you push yourself too far."

Chen Ren nodded, absorbing the information. It still felt strange to him, being able to wield lightning without burning himself, but he supposed there was logic to it. At least Xianxia logic.

If his spirit roots were tied to the element, it made sense that his body would be more in tune with it.

He stepped back to the wooden dummy, his focus sharpening. His strikes came faster now, each punch laced with more qi from the last.

"[Thundering Fist!]" he roared, his fist crashing into the dummy. Cracks began to spiderweb across its surface as arcs of lightning danced around the impact site. His control was improving; he could feel the qi more distinctly, his strikes more powerful, the lightning sharper.

As he worked through another series of punches, Yalan's voice broke through his concentration. "What are you going to do about your Dao?"

Chen Ren paused mid-strike, turning to face Yalan with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?"

Yalan tilted its head, giving him a scrutinising look that ended up being cute due to her being a cat. "Your growth has slowed. You've been earning a decent amount from the stall, sure, but if you want to grow more, you'll need to improve it. Or expand into other businesses. You can't just stay at one level forever."

Chen Ren wiped his brow, his thoughts briefly drifting back to the noodle stall.

Tang Xiulan was handling things at the market today, managing the customers and keeping everything running smoothly. She was reliable, which allowed him the freedom to focus on cultivation. But Yalan wasn't wrong. If he wanted to expand, the stall needed more. More customers, better products, and maybe even more locations.

"I've thought about it," he said, his voice contemplative. "But I'm waiting for the right opportunity."

Yalan narrowed its eyes. "What kind of opportunity?"

Before Chen Ren could respond, the loud sound of footsteps echoed through the garden. A guard appeared, striding toward him with an air of urgency.

"The clan head is looking for you," the guard announced, his eyes briefly flicking toward the lounging cat with mild curiosity.

Chen Ren glanced at Yalan, who met his gaze with a knowing look. This was the opportunity.

"That kind," Chen Ren thought to himself but knew the cat heard him as he dusted off his robes and prepared to follow the guard. His fists still tingled with the remnants of lightning, and though his mind was focused on what lay ahead, part of him couldn't help but feel that both his business and his cultivation had just taken their first steps toward something greater.

***

Chen Ren moved swiftly through the hallways of the Tang Clan, the scent of noodle broth filled the air around him.

In one hand, he carried a bowl, steam rising from the broth and curling through the air, laced with a delicate fragrance of spices and herbs. The other hand hovered near the hem of his robe, ready to steady the bowl if needed. His steps were light as he continued along the same path. 

The guards at the door barely glanced at him, already informed of his presence here, and they stepped aside without a word.

Chen Ren approached the entrance to the clan head's chambers, but something stopped him just before he knocked on the door. Voices, quiet but clear, drifted through the door.

"Father, please! It was important to me!"

He froze, realising the familiar female voice he had heard often these days. It was Tang Yuqiu's. 

"You know it was just a trial," A deep, serious yet calm voice followed. He used his memories to pin it as Tang Clan head, Tang Jihao. 

Tang Yuqiu's voice was sharp, almost trembling with frustration. "It matters, Father. I failed. But don't worry, I'll fix it. I'll find something to make sure the business gets money."

"You don't have to push yourself," Tang Jihao replied softly. "You can learn under me. There's no shame in that."

"No!" Yuqiu's voice cracked with emotion as she almost shouted. "I will do it. And I will show you. Just give me more time!"

There was a pause. Chen Ren could almost hear the silence echoing in the space between them.

Before he could step back or announce his presence, the sound of hurried footsteps drew closer. The door swung open, revealing the young lady. 

Her hair was slightly dishevelled, her robes a bit wrinkled unlike every other time he'd seen her in a perfect light and her eyes carried a look of fierce determination— until they landed on him. She froze.

Chen Ren, caught off guard, managed an awkward "hello."

For a moment, they stood there, an uncomfortable silence filling the space between them. Then, without a word, Tang Yuqiu brushed past him, her steps quick as she strode off down the hallway, her figure stiff with tension.

Chen Ren exhaled softly and stared at the empty space where she'd been standing. He wasn't sure what he had walked into, but the weight of their conversation lingered in the air. 

"Come in," urged the voice of the clan head, cutting through his thoughts.

Chen Ren straightened himself, stepping into the room. As he entered, Tang Jihao's eyes settled on him, offering a brief but warm smile. "Sorry you had to witness that," he said, gesturing for Chen Ren to approach.

He looked down at Tang Jihao— sunken eyes, wrinkled face, frail figure, bony hands. Despite being known to be a foodie and a rich merchant, he looked worse than most poor commoners. Despite that, his voice was clear and serious, befitting of his status. 

Chen Ren guessed that the rumours about the man going through some sort of a curse were true and as he took more than a comfortable amount of time to stare at him, Tang Jihao raked a hand through his goatee. 

That was enough of an action for him to shake his head and offer a polite bow.

"No problem at all." His gaze shifted to Tang Jihao's expression— calm yet burdened— and he stepped forward, holding up the bowl of noodles. "I thought an eastern delicacy might lighten the stress of running so many successful businesses."

Tang Jihao's pupils dilated slightly with interest as the steam from the bowl wafted toward him. "Ah, your famed noodles. A thoughtful gesture."

Chen Ren presented the dish, hoping the food would offer more comfort than his words. He could still feel the tension from the previous exchange hanging in the room, but for now, he must focus on the present.

Tang Jihao took the bowl with a small smile, steam rising as he inspected the dish. "Very interesting," he said in a warm tone.

The noodles were a simple gesture, but for someone like Tang Jihao, they were the best way to approach. It also seemed to work as the man raised his hand and gestured to Chen Ren to take the opposite seat.

Chen Ren complied, watching as the clan head took his first bite. His gaze was unreadable, but after a brief pause, the head let out a quiet sound of approval. The tension in the room seemed to ease with every slurp of broth, and Chen Ren felt his shoulders relax slightly.

"Thank you for letting me stay here for so long," Chen Ren began, his voice steady but sincere. "Even if I've been nothing but trouble."

Tang Jihao's head chuckled softly, setting the bowl down for a moment. "Well, these noodles are good enough to make me let you stay for a whole year."

Chen Ren, his tone lightening, replied, "Then I'll make sure to have it delivered every day."

Tang Jihao laughed— a deep, genuine sound. "Chen Ren, you've really changed. You're very different from the first time we met."

Chen Ren didn't flinch at the statement, keeping his expression composed. "I know."

The head's eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity. "Why is that? I've been meaning to ask ever since you started your business."

Chen Ren paused for a moment, thinking of how to pick his words carefully. After a breath, he replied, "I realised the path I was fighting for wasn't mine. I was inadequate and arrogant. The heavens are open to all, but only those with the ability can afford to be arrogant. I didn't have any, so I changed my path."

The old man's gaze lingered on him, thoughtful. "And what is your path now?"

Chen Ren considered the question, feeling the weight of it. He could hardly tell the truth— that his true path was still blurry, somewhere between survival, finding his footing in a world that wasn't his own and creating a business empire. But instead, he smiled faintly and decided to mix them with lies. "My path is one of business. I want to help people, make their lives comfortable by selling things, and earn karma in return."

"A path of a merchant?"

"A path of prosperity," Chen Ren corrected.

Tang Jihao nodded, seemingly impressed. "A noble goal. And how did you come to this conclusion?"

Chen Ren, maintaining his calm, crafted his next story with care. "My ancestor who founded the Chen Clan. Before he became a cultivator, he was a merchant. He walked the path of prosperity until a chance encounter with the heavens led him to cultivation. But even after that, he never forgot his roots in trade. Through his business, he prospered many lives."

"I thought he was always a cultivator."

"No, he was a merchant first. His success in business laid the foundation for the cultivation path he later took. It was his understanding of balance— both in trade and cultivation—that led him to prosper."

Tang Jihao let out another small chuckle, nodding thoughtfully. "Interesting. You've given me a lot to think about. A path of prosperity, you say?"

Chen Ren nodded, his expression unwavering, though inside, he knew the truth was far more complicated.

It was, in fact, true that one of Chen Ren's ancestors had been a merchant who stumbled upon a chance encounter that changed the course of his life. However, despite that origin, the Chen Clan wasn't built on trade but rather on blood and blades. Even now, they were known as a sword clan, ruthless and battle-hardened, with little room for the softer arts of commerce. Still, the story served its purpose.

The clan head took another bite of the noodles, his approval clear. 

"I'm proud of you for walking down the path of your ancestor," he added.

Chen Ren offered a humble nod, his posture relaxed, but his mind was still calculating. 

The head leaned back and pulled out a small bundle of letters, setting them on the table between them with a heavy thud. "You know what these are," the head said, his tone losing some of its warmth.

Chen Ren's eyes flicked to the letters. He knew exactly what they were. "Yes, they're letters from my debtors."

Tang Jihao's expression darkened slightly as he added, "They asked me about your debts, thinking I would pay them off for you."

Chen Ren had anticipated this. He had been aware of the clan head's role in keeping the debt collectors at bay for a while now. He had written letters, asking for more time, but that wouldn't have done much if his debtors hadn't assumed that he was under the Tang Clan. "I appreciate that, truly," Chen Ren said, his tone careful. "I know they've been pressing you."

Tang Jihao gave a slow nod. "Yes. I've been keeping them from taking any action against you because I find you interesting. But it won't stay this way forever, Chen Ren."

Chen Ren had expected as much. He knew Tang Jihao wasn't doing this out of charity or goodwill. "I understand. It must be difficult to hold them off on my behalf, and I'm grateful for it. But I think I can give you a reason to hold them back a bit longer."

The clan head's eyebrow arched slightly. "And what reason would that be?"

Chen Ren's lips curled into a slow, calculated smile as he uttered a single name. "Tang Yuqiu, your daughter."

At the sound of the name, Tang Jihao's expression shifted ever so slightly. His eyes flickered with something— surprise? Curiosity? Chen Ren couldn't tell. He waited, wondering what his response would be.

After a moment, Tang Jihao leaned forward, his voice low. "So, you're finally ready to marry her, then?"

Chen Ren froze, and his entire body went cold. His smile faded, replaced by a look of sheer panic.

***

A/N - It's a bonus chapter. I will do one more bonus chapter at 3000 followers, if we manage to reach it by 14 November.