Cultivate By Losing Money

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."