Dao of Money

Chapter 109: The vault

Chen Ren closed his eyes tightly, trying to avoid the light. He had warned Yalan it would happen, a flash triggered by the array. It was part of the plan. But he underestimated the scale of it.

And when the light faded, his vision slowly returned.

Wang Fu was on the ground, one hand over his eyes, groaning. The heat in his voice from before was gone. A pale, see-through barrier shimmered faintly around him, a last line of defense. But the array wasn’t done.

From above, bolts of lightning cracked through the barrier, crashing down on him. The chamber trembled. Sparks flew. Stone cracked.

Chen Ren stayed behind cover, watching. That lightning would’ve killed any normal cultivator in the qi refinement realm and even injure foundation establishment realm ones easily. But not Wang Fu. He was tough. The bolts slammed him across the floor, smoke rising from his clothes, but he was still breathing.

And that’s when Yalan moved.

She didn’t shout. She didn’t rush in. Her lips moved in a quiet chant, and the air around her began to ripple. Flaming weapons burst into view, spears, swords, even a massive hammer.

They spun around her like a storm held in place, waiting to be let loose.

Chen Ren had told her to strike when the enemy was down, to use her strongest move. But this... this wasn’t something he had seen before. Wang Fu stirred, still trying to rise through the lightning strikes that had started to slow. Just as he lifted his head—

Yalan’s weapons shot forward.

A spear struck first. Wang Fu caught it with one hand, barely. before a hammer slammed into his chest, flattening him to the floor. Another blade pierced his shoulder. Then another. Then more.

It looked endless. And that was the best part. All those weapons against Wang Fu.

Chen Ren didn’t waste the moment. He pulled out a small glass vial with thick, green liquid swirling inside and moved towards the array. Qing He had given it to him right before he left, just in case he faced puppeted constructs knowing that the potion burnt through almost anything. Even human flesh. And now was the best time to use it.

He threw the vial. It flew past the barrier and smashed against Wang Fu’s face. Acid sprayed across his skin, and Wang Fu screamed—high, raw, full of pain. Chen Ren didn’t stop.

He pulled out another vial and aimed lower—at Wang Fu’s belts, his rings, the items where healing pills or other treasures might be hidden. The second vial shattered, spilling its contents across cloth and skin.

The acid hissed as it ate through everything. Flesh, metal, robes. Black smoke curled into the air. Wang Fu's skin peeled away, and his rings melted on his fingers. Demonic qi surged to heal him, but it was too late.

His knees buckled. He collapsed fully, arms shaking, blood dripping onto the stone. But his eyes still burned with hatred. Through the pain, through the damage, he lifted his head and locked his gaze on Chen Ren — not Yalan.

“You,” Wang Fu rasped, voice hoarse. Then louder, like a curse spat from deep inside, “I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you, bastard!”

Wang Fu groaned and pushed himself forward, dragging his body across the ground. Blood smeared beneath him, and one of his fists slammed into the glowing barrier. Again. And again.

He didn’t use any techniques. His qi was busy holding his body together, trying to stop the bleeding, to repair what it could. But still, he crawled, fists cracking against the shield with brute strength alone.

Chen Ren watched, tense.

Lightning. Conjured weapons. Acid. Any normal cultivator would’ve died five times over. But Wang Fu was a demonic cultivator. Their bodies were built to endure. For all he knew, the man had some secret body cultivation technique or ancient defense art.

And worst of all, his punches were working.

Thin cracks spread across the edge of the barrier, spider webbing out beneath Wang Fu’s fists. Chen Ren’s breath caught. If the man got through, the fight must just end in his favour. He was weakened, yes. Bleeding, yes. But was far more dangerous than anyone else. Chen Ren steeled himself. He could take one hit—maybe—and try to kill him.

But he didn’t get the chance. A blur dropped from above. Yalan.

She slammed into the barrier, her claws glowing bright as they sliced clean through the cracks. The shield shattered with a sharp crack, and before Wang Fu could even look up, her claws carved into his neck.

Wang Fu jerked, one arm swiping wildly to shove her off, but more blood sprayed out. Her claws dug deeper, burning with power. With a final, heavy slash, his head came loose, rolling once across the stone before stopping near Chen Ren’s feet.

Silence stretched in the chamber.

Yalan stood there, chest rising and falling fast, blood dripping from her claws. Then she turned toward him and said, between breaths, “The head. Always go for the head.”

Her voice was quiet but firm.

“Demonic cultivators can heal from anything... but not that.”

Then her legs gave out.

Chen Ren rushed forward and caught her before she hit the floor. She was heavier than she looked, her furry body limp in his arms. He lowered her carefully into his lap, panic rising as he noticed cuts and burns along her side, wounds he hadn’t seen in the heat of the battle.

He reached for a healing pill at once. But her voice stopped him.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “It’ll heal... just need to rest. That last attack... and the weapon storm... drained everything.”

Chen Ren let out a slow breath. Relief washed over him.

“You’ve done enough,” he said gently. “We’ve dealt with everything. You can rest now.”

“I’m going to,” she muttered, already closing her eyes. Then, almost as an afterthought, “Protect me well, okay? I gave everything... to protect you.”

Chen Ren smiled faintly at that. “I will,” he said, pulling her closer. Unsaid feelings rushed to him in waves, catching him off guard. He was glad she made it, he was glad she was powerful and he was glad that she was alive.

He wiped his eye from the free hand.

He finally let his hand stroke through her fur, rough from battle, warm from life, and to his surprise, Yalan let out a soft, contented purr.

That was the first time he patted her.

***

It didn’t take long for Yalan to recover. Just like she had said, her body began healing within hours. Chen Ren sat by her side and watched as the wounds along her fur slowly closed on their own. The cuts stopped bleeding. The burns faded. She hadn’t moved yet, but he could tell she'd be up soon.

In the meantime, Chen Ren

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