Cai Tao’s mention of Red Peak City caught Chen Ren off guard, but he was no stranger to adapting in the face of uncertainty.

The pure surprise in his eyes lasted barely a heartbeat before it vanished beneath his usual smile. It was a well-practiced business smile that came to him naturally. It wasn't genuine, but no one had caught it yet.

In such a setting, he knew every little detail was a giveaway.

His lips curled slightly with the hint of a smirk tinged with self-deprecation, as he spoke with deliberate calm.

“Captain, it seems your research wasn’t thorough enough,” Chen Ren said in a mocking tone, lowering his gaze as his smile faded into a downcast expression. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

“What do you mean?” Cai Tao’s brow arched, suspicion laced through his voice. He leaned forward slightly, eyes squinting.

Chen Ren let the silence stretch, just long enough for tension to build, before speaking again, his voice tinged with resignation. “I’ve been exiled by my clan,” he murmured, each word measured, as though admitting it took effort. “The Chen Clan may hold sway in Red Peak City, but for someone like me? A failure cast out? They wouldn’t lift a finger. And as for the artifact...” He allowed a bitter chuckle to escape, shaking his head. “An exile, holding something as rare as a spirit artifact? Impossible. All I managed to leave with were a few personal belongings before they cast me out.”

He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Cai Tao. “If you doubt me, you’re welcome to confirm it with Tang Jihao, head of the Tang Clan. He knows my story.”

The shift in Cai Tao’s expression was subtle but telling. His sharp facial expression softened, replaced by a flicker of hesitation. Chen Ren could see the wheels turning in the guard captain’s mind, the weight of the Tang Clan’s name and his exile pressing against his doubts. Even so, Cai Tao’s posture remained firm, his eyes narrowing as he seized on a new angle.

“You claimed those injuries came from fighting the spectral rhinos,” Cai Tao pressed, his eyes once again moving towards his shoulder. “Yet you’re still only in the body forging realm. Those rhinos were in the qi refinement realm, far beyond what someone of your cultivation should manage. How did you survive?”

Chen Ren’s stature remained unruffled as he raised the teacup to his lip. After a pause, he lowered it and met Cai Tao’s gaze calmly.

“I was chased by one of the rhinos into the mist… Stronger than me, yes—but not clever. The creature couldn’t navigate the haze, and I used that to my advantage. I struck from the shadows, again and again, until it fell.” He glanced briefly at the faint scars on his shoulder before continuing. “It wasn’t without cost. My injuries were severe, and I wouldn’t be sitting here now without the pills I’d saved up for emergencies.”

Cai Tao gave a short nod, his eyes flicking briefly to the runes embedded in the walls of the room. His gaze returned to Chen Ren. “I see,” he murmured, but the edge in his tone signalled that the questioning was far from over.

What followed was a relentless barrage of inquiries.

“Where were you during the recent demonic cultivator attacks?”

“Why did you suddenly decided to become a merchant?”

“What’s your connection to the Blood Snakes? I heard you met with their leader Yu Kuang.”

Chen Ren answered slowly, but without hesitation, never offering more than what was necessary. He had mostly been staying at the Tang Clan compound at night, so there would be witnesses. The servants could easily confirm that, and fortunately, there had been no attacks on the nights he had been out training in the forest.

As the questions turned to his businesses, he spoke of how his debts were the reason, also adding the story he had told Tang Jihao sometime ago to give more weight to his decisions.

When pressed about his confrontation with the Blood Snakes, he described it in broad strokes—an unfortunate clash due to Bai Shen pulling the strings from the back, nothing more. Cai Tao tried his best to form a connection there, but Chen Ren stood firm. There were already rumours about the Trial by Might and why it happened, so he doubted the guard captain would get new information.

Still, the questions continued.

Through it all, Chen Ren carefully guarded his secrets. His dao remained hidden behind layers of mundane explanations. And as for Yalan... Not even the hint of her existence slipped through his words.

Cai Tao’s probing gaze lingered after each response, but Chen Ren sat still, his fingers lightly gripping the rim of his teacup. His thoughts wandered as the guard captain’s scrutiny seemed to finally dull, as if the last thread of suspicion had been weighed and found wanting. He had expected Cai Tao to address his rapid cultivation progress, particularly after the sect entrance examinations, but the captain had avoided it entirely.

He guessed that it was because Cai Tao had concluded that it had been mostly due to pills.

Rich cultivators often relied on such means, and with the money Chen Ren had accumulated from his Trial by Might and his perfume shop, it was no surprise that he could afford to hasten his growth this way. The guard captain, in his pragmatic way, likely didn’t see the need to press further.

Eventually, the room grew quiet as Cai Tao leaned back in his chair, a faint sigh escaping his lips.

His sharp gaze met Chen Ren’s. “Most of my questions are over, and up to this point, I believe you’ve been honest with me. You’ve even revealed the situation with your clan, something few would so freely admit.”

Chen Ren nodded. But he didn’t relax—he knew well that a change in tone often preceded a shift in intention.

Cai Tao’s eyes narrowed as he continued, his words heavy with finality. “But despite that, I can’t let you go just yet. You’re not giving off any demonic qi, but we know too well that demonic cultivators have ways of hiding their aura. If we let you go now, there’s always the chance you might slip through our fingers. So…” His gaze hardened. “I’m afraid we’ll have to put you in the Purity Chamber.”

Chen Ren raised an eyebrow. “Purity Chamber?”

Cai Tao’s lips curled into a grim smile with no warmth in it. “It’s a property of the Soaring Sword Sect. A chamber specifically designed to expose demonic cultivators. If you harbor even a hint of demonic qi within your dantian, it will kill you. We’ve been given permission to use it,” Cai Tao continued. “All the suspects will be transferred there once the investigations are finished. It's not easy to find a demonic cultivator, so the chamber is our last hope.”

Chen Ren’s mind raced. A chamber that could kill him in an instant, should he carry even the smallest trace of demonic qi. The risks were immense, but it wasn’t his first time facing danger. Rather than that, he dreaded sitting in the room alone for more time.

He managed to keep his expression neutral, though the frown on his face deepened as he spoke. “How much time will it take?”

Cai Tao seemed to consider this for a moment. “Few days. We’re completing the other investigations and rounding up the remaining suspects. Once we have everyone, we’ll also move them to the Purity Chamber.”

Before Chen Ren could respond, a sharp knock on the door echoed through the room, breaking the tension. Both men turned toward the sound, the moment of confrontation put on hold.

As another knock echoed through the chamber, Cai Tao rose from his seat with a frown, his steps brisk as he moved to the door. He cracked it open just enough to step out, leaving Chen Ren sitting alone. Through the narrow gap, he caught a glimpse of another man standing outside—one of Cai Tao’s subordinates, judging by his uniform.

He had an anxious expression and made some hurried gestures before the door shut firmly, leaving Chen Ren in solitude.

He leaned back, casually tapping his finger on the edge of the desk. Finishing the last sip of his tea, he set the cup down, his gaze wandering over the runes glowing faintly on the walls. He couldn’t shake the sense that something had shifted, though what it was remained unclear.

Moments later, the door opened again, and Cai Tao returned, his face bearing an entirely different expression. There was no trace of suspicion, no lingering doubt—only an air of resignation.

“Forget what I said about the Purity Chamber,” Cai Tao said abruptly, his tone flat and decisive. “You can go now.”

Chen Ren blinked, genuinely taken aback. “I can... go?” he repeated cautiously, his mind racing to decipher the sudden change. But years of navigating treacherous waters had taught him a valuable lesson: never argue with good fortune.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

He rose quickly, bowing his head slightly to Cai Tao, masking his relief with a veneer of calm. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll take my leave.”

With that, he stepped out of the room and into the dimly lit corridors. His strides were brisk but steady, his senses heightened as he glanced over his shoulder every few moments. The halls stretched endlessly ahead, but his mind was elsewhere, racing through questions. What had changed so suddenly? Could Tang Yuqiu have intervened? It seemed too fast, even for her.

Just as he approached the final stretch before the exit, he froze. Standing there, her figure unmistakable even in the sparse light, was Qing He. The old woman radiated her usual unyielding aura, though her posture seemed firmer, her grip steady on a plain wooden stick she held. Beside her stood Yalan—flickering her tail dismissively as always.

Chen Ren walked forward, his confusion mounting. “Senior Qing He? Why are you here?” His gaze flickered to the stick, and then to Yalan, who gave him a knowing look but said nothing. “What’s going on?”

Qing He’s lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So many questions from someone I just bailed out of trouble.”

Chen Ren’s eyes widened as her words sank in. “You did that?” he asked, incredulous. “How?”

Her laughter echoed through the corridor, rich and knowing. “Kid, you underestimate me. My connections go far, and I mean far—right up to the city lord’s personal chambers.” She tapped the stick against the ground for emphasis. “Honestly, I was content to let them sort this out on their own. They’d have released you sooner or later. But then Yalan came running to me, saying they were suspecting you of being a demonic cultivator. I knew those fools would drag out that Purity Chamber nonsense, so I stepped in.”

Chen Ren’s expression shifted from shock to something closer to gratitude. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, though a thousand questions still swirled in his mind.

“That Purity Chamber?” Chen Ren raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

“For anyone who values their sanity? Yes.” Qing He leaned on her stick, her sharp eyes glinting with humour. “The Purity Chamber doesn’t just check for demonic qi. It crushes your dantian, shakes your soul, and grinds down your mind. Originally, it was called the Force Chamber—a training tool from the olden days. Back then, it wasn’t advised to stay in for more than an hour unless you wanted to come out drooling. Now? They’ve modified it, but not for the better. Occasionally, they would find people suspected of being demonic cultivators and put them there till they lose their mind.”

Chen Ren’s eyes widened, a chill running down his spine. “So they were just going to shove me into a death trap, wait for me to lose my mind, and hope that if I was a demonic cultivator, I’d unleash my qi to escape?”

“Precisely,” Qing He said, her tone almost casual. “Demonic qi is volatile, more so than you can imagine. Under that much pressure, it would flare uncontrollably, revealing your true nature. Of course, that doesn’t mean the chamber isn’t lethal to regular cultivators too. And while your reckless ideas might get you killed someday, I’d rather it not be this soon.” Her smirk deepened as she said the last part.

Chen Ren clenched his fists, his mind flashing to Cai Tao’s unnervingly calm demeanour. That smug, smiling face suddenly seemed like the perfect target for a slap or two. He couldn't imagine how the man had been so casual while talking about the Purity Chamber. There was no way he didn't know it would make him go insane, but he simply didn't care enough to tell him.

Part of it could have been because he didn't want Chen Ren to try to escape, but it didn't change the fact that he had nearly died just because he had been a suspect.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down before stepping forward and bowing deeply toward Qing He. “Senior Qing He, thank you. I truly owe you for saving me from this.”

Qing He’s smile didn’t waver. “Oh, you’re grateful now. But I don’t expect that to last.”

Chen Ren straightened, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Yalan, silent until now, finally spoke, her voice carrying a touch of amusement. “I think she’s referring to the deal you made, remember? She agreed to teach cultivation disciplines to you.”

Chen Ren’s face froze for a moment before turning toward Qing He, whose grin only grew wider, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“That’s right, kid,” she shrugged and turned around. “I hope you’re ready for hard training because I don’t believe in holding back. And we are already late for our first session. Purity Chamber might have made you insane, but if you don't focus, my training might have the same effect.”

Chen Ren suppressed a groan, already imagining the gruelling days ahead, but then he looked back at the guard station and thought about the fate he had just escaped.

Compared to that, he doubted her training could be that hard. Right?

***

Growing up, Chen Ren had done a ridiculous amount of homework. Since middle school, he’d turned his neat handwriting and quick mind into a part-time job, charging the younger kids in the neighbourhood for doing their assignments. By high school, he’d been a one-man essay factory, churning out essays on everything from ancient poetry to biology experiments.

Back then, it had been a hustle—a way to earn some pocket money. But when Qing He announced she would be training him, he hadn’t expected those endless days of scribbling to come back to haunt him.

He stared down at the sheet of paper in front of him, frustration bubbling beneath his calm facade. For the five hundred and seventy-ninth time, he inscribed the same basic symbol with painstaking care, the brush gliding over the paper in smooth strokes.

It was a simple pattern, deceptively easy to learn but maddeningly difficult to perfect. One slight wobble in the line, one stroke too thick or thin, and it was all worthless.

Chen Ren sighed, his grip tightening around the brush as he spotted yet another mistake. The lines were uneven—again. He crumpled the paper in frustration, tossing it onto the growing pile of rejects before pulling out a fresh sheet to start over.

Beside him, Qing He sat with infuriating serenity, sipping tea as if she had all the time in the world. “Careful now,” she said without looking at him. “The talisman doesn’t care about your impatience. The symbols must be precise. A single flawed stroke can make the entire inscription useless—or worse, unstable. I’m sure you don’t want it blowing up in your hand.”

Chen Ren glared at her for a moment, though he quickly schooled his expression back to neutrality. “I think I’ve got that part figured out, thanks.”

Qing He’s lips twitched into a knowing smirk, but she said nothing, simply lifting her cup for another sip.

She had dragged him here right after he’d informed Tang Xiulan that he was safe and that she didn’t need to worry.

When he had thought about learning the disciplines, he hadn’t expected to be thrust into hours of grueling practice, learning the basic inscription symbols used in talisman crafting. It sounded straightforward and easy in theory, but in practice, it was maddening. Even the tiniest deviation—a millimeter off, an unsteady hand, or ink that dried too quickly—meant failure.

And failure was all he had to show for the last few hours.

He set his jaw, determined to get it right this time. The brush moved across the paper, his focus being his prime goal. Sweat beaded on his brow, his concentration razor-sharp. As he worked, he caught Qing He watching him from the corner of his eye, her expression calm but expectant, as if she were waiting for him to crack under the pressure. He almost groaned loudly for her to hear.

“Do you have to sit there and watch me?” he asked, his voice strained as he finished another line.

“Of course,” she said smoothly. “I wouldn’t want you to feel neglected.”

A moment passed, and another. Chen Ren just stared at her not knowing if he should give up right away or if he should—

“What are you staring at? Why aren’t you inscribing?”

Chen Ren put down the brush and flexed his aching wrist, the stiffness beginning to creep up to his forearm. “I’m just tired. My wrist is killing me.”

Qing He scoffed, setting her teacup down with a faint clink. “Tired? Wrist hurting? That’s nothing. You inscribe until your wrist can’t move, and then you push past that. That’s the way of a talisman master. What I’ve given you are the basic Tier 1 runic symbols. You should consider yourself lucky I didn’t start you off with alchemy. Then you’d be learning the names of ten thousand herbs and their uses.”

She chuckled, her laugh somehow both light and ominous. “Actually, why don’t we make that your next lesson—after you’ve completed a thousand inscriptions, of course.”

Chen Ren groaned inwardly, dropping his gaze back to the paper. “A thousand,” he muttered, picking up the brush and dipping it back into the ink. “Why not make it ten thousand while you’re at it?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Qing He replied.

Chen Ren sighed heavily and refocused, the tip of his brush hovering over the paper as he prepared to start again. Just as he was about to inscribe the first line, the murmur of conversation drifted over from the other side of the tea shop.

Two girls, familiar faces from the marketplace skirmish, were seated a few tables away— Yin Qiao and Mei Lian. Since their initial fight, they had apparently gotten closer. Their voices carried just enough for him to catch snippets of their talk.

“The city tournament is starting soon,” Yin Qiao said, excitement evident in her tone. “Are you going to take part?”

Mei Lian shook her head, her expression nonchalant. “No, I’m better off cheering from the sidelines this time. But didn’t it get canceled because of the demonic cultivator attack?”

“Nope,” Yin Qiao wiggled her eyebrows. “It’s still on. I heard they’re making changes to keep everything secure. Extra guards and all that. Apparently, City Lord Li got angry at the guards on the security of the city and they had been working hard to ensure the tournament goes on right now.”

“Really? Then I wonder if Li Xuan is going to participate?”

“I have heard he will. Lots of cultivators are going to participate just to have a shot at challenging him.”

Mei Lian's eyes widened. “Really? Then maybe I will go watch.”

Chen Ren couldn’t help but smile as he listened. The idea of a city tournament brought a spark of interest to his otherwise grueling day. He had heard about it before, but with everything he had gone through recently, the thought of it had completely left his mind.

He turned slightly, his eyes meeting Qing He’s piercing gaze.

“What’s that grin about? Are you planning to enter the tournament? Or are you just daydreaming again?”

Chen Ren shook his head, though his smile didn’t fade. “I’m not sure if I’ll enter. I haven’t decided yet. I can't enter without seeing if there's any prize I want.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his mind already spinning. “But I do see it as an opportunity.”

Qing He raised a brow. “What kind of opportunity?”

“For business, of course. A tournament means crowds. Crowds mean travellers from nearby villages and towns. It’s the perfect chance to attract customers—and I’ve got so many ideas running through my head.”

Qing He leaned back, studying him with an amused expression. “You’re more of a merchant than a cultivator, aren’t you?”

Chen Ren shrugged. “Why not both?” He picked up the brush again, his focus sharp. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to finish this before my next big venture.”

Qing He scoffed. “Well, just don’t let your wrist fall off before you reach a thousand inscriptions.”

***

A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon.