Dao of Money-Chapter 125: Need a little flavour

Once the vessel was filled up enough, Chen Ren let Feiyu handle the rest of the process. The man moved immediately, mixing the herbal essence water with starch—the same binding agent they had tested before and found effective. As Feiyu focused on the blend, Chen Ren turned toward the three people he had called to witness the demonstration.

Their eyes followed every movement with curiosity and quiet tension.

Wang Jun was the first to break the silence. “There’s no way this will work,” he said, his nose scrunching up in protest. “I get the principle—it works on paper, sure. But pills aren’t theory. There’s no guarantee they’ll actually come out right.”

“They did, and it turned out good, too,” Chen Ren replied simply. He turned around and moved to bring over a wooden tray filled with round pill molds where they had put essence mixed with starch yesterday. It was now dried, shimmering faintly in white color.

Qing He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she reached out. “You ate it?” she asked. “How was it?”

“Honestly, it’s better than the one I bought from Jingxi City. You should try for yourself.”

That was the only invitation Qing He needed. She plucked two pills from the tray and placed one in front of Yalan. The third witness, Wang Jun, remained still, watching as the two placed the pills on their tongues.

A few seconds passed as they swallowed the pills.

Qing He grunted in approval and turned to the head. “Try it,” she said with a smile.

Wang Jun rolled his eyes. “You know I can’t. I’m just here to see whether Chen Ren pulled it off or not.” His tone was flat when he spat out words.

Chen Ren knew he wanted to take a taste as well, the curiosity was well evident in his eyes.

Qing He shot a glance at Chen Ren. “It worked,” she said. “It’s a solid Qi Replenishment pill. Well, I do have some notes. It's far from perfect.” Chen Ren opened his mouth but was cut off by Qing He. “Purity could be better. And the taste… taste is terrible. Worse than the regular pill. Probably because the starch didn’t mix well. But it’s workable, I guess.”

“And I’m pretty sure you could still sell it to those broke rogue cultivators. They won’t care about taste if it restores Qi,” Yalan said, tasting another.

The moment Chen Ren heard those words, a bit of tension in his shoulders eased. He unclenched his jaw and realised how tight it was until then. After all the sleepless nights, half-burned mixtures and ruined batches, they’d finally managed it—an unconventional way to make pills. One that gave a way for mortals to help out.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect yet. But he could already see the way forward. With the pills in line, he’d be able to create a successful production line, a steady supply chain, and small workshops. Although he hadn’t sat down to calculate the numbers, he was certain that this method would let him produce far more pills using fewer herbs than traditional alchemy ever allowed.

That alone gave it value and purpose for him to move forward.

He knew one of the biggest flaws with traditional alchemy was the element of luck.

The process could shift and turn solely based on the alchemist’s qi and concentration. But that wasn't the case with distillation, drying and molding—there was no luck involved. As long as the ingredients were good, and the process was precise, he knew the outcome would be consistent.

That outcome… it could bring him success. And—

Qing He’s voice cut into his thoughts.

“Even so,” she said, brushing her hands together. “If I dare say it, it serves your purpose. But you’ve added non-traditional components—starch, spirit water. The way essence binds is a plus, but it’s still crude, so you need to refine it further…” her eyes suddenly narrowed at the pill tray and looked up. “If you used something like spiritual clay—or even just dehydrated the mixture instead—you’d probably get better results.”

She paused for a moment.

“Also, not all herbs pair well with spirit water. Some clash entirely. So you should know that what you could make with this method will be limited.” She tilted her head briefly. “But I guess you don’t care about it.”

“I don’t. I can leave the rarer pills for actual alchemists.”

From the beginning, his goal was never to replace alchemists. It was to create common pills cheaply in a constant supply. And now, he was on the verge of achieving it. His eyes sparkled. There were still ideas brewing in his mind, to make his pills far more efficient.

“You think spiritual clay would work better as a binding agent?”

“It should.”

“But, would it help the taste?”

Qing He’s gray eyebrows rose an inch. “Taste?”

Wang Jun burst out laughing from the side. “If you want something tasty, kid, why not make me the Stormbite Pill again?” he grinned. “We can try together. Maybe it would blow up the cauldron fully while we’re at it, but if the pill comes out well, it's worth it.”

Chen Ren ignored Wang Jun’s teasing and turned toward Yalan instead.

“Do you remember those healing and bone-mending pills you fed me after the spectral rhino incident?”

Yalan’s whiskers twitched. “I remember. You almost vomited them out.”

The corners of lips turned up. “Anyone would’ve. Honestly, it’s not just those. I’ve tasted quite a few since then and every single one was bitter enough to make me question whether alchemists have tongues at all.” He scrunched his nose up in disgust. Even thinking about the taste made him almost gag.

That statement made Qing He frown, folding her arms. “Obviously, they taste bitter. Pills aren’t food to taste good. They’re for healing and cultivation. No one cares about taste.”

“But why not?” Chen Ren countered, raising two fingers between them. “Let’s say two pills are priced the same, have the same purity and effect. One tastes like you’re chewing on the brain of a bug. The other doesn’t. Which one would you pick?”

Qing He narrowed her eyes. “What exactly are you getting at?”

“I’m just thinking with a consumer mindset,” he said with a shrug. “So, tell. Which one?”

From the side, the group’s silent observer finally spoke up. “I’d take the flavored one,” Wang Jun said. “A little taste won’t kill anyone.”

“Same,” Feiyu chimed in from the back, still stirring the essence and starch mixture with rhythmic movements.

A grin spread through Chen Ren's lips. He turned his eyes towards Qing He who clearly didn’t like the way this conversation was going. And he had an explanation for that; it was likely because of her alchemist roots.

And he understood that. But a little support from her could go a long way for him.

“See? I think this could work.”

That earned a brief glare that lasted for a few pregnant seconds. He didn’t back out. He kept up the staring contest until she let out a long breath and said, “So you want to add something that brings in more flavor to the pills. Fine. But you do realize that doing that could alter the pill’s effects entirely. There’s a reason we follow recipes refined over hundreds of years.”

“I know. Trust me, I do,” Chen Ren replied and kept the pill tray away. “But how do we perfect anything if we don’t test and adapt? Now that I have a working method for consistent pill production, I want to push it further. Refine the process. Build a whole system around it and improve the recipes along the way so I could sell a lot of pills to cultivators. Also, I’m not trying to invent a new kind of pill here. I just believe alchemy has stagnated. This might be the change it needs.”

After his explanation, which was mostly aimed at Qing He, he waited. He waited for any reaction that he could get.

Then surprisingly, Yalan gave a low purr. “What you’re saying isn’t wrong. And I didn’t even think you’d get this method to work, so if you are trying to get the taste to get better, you would achieve it sooner or later.”

Chen Ren blinked, then placed a hand on his heart and feigned hurt. “Really? I thought you’d have some faith in me.”

Yalan snorted. “Faith? You couldn’t even make an Earth-grade pill properly two months ago.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and simply said, “Point taken.” His gaze shifted back to Qing He, waiting.

Qing He’s frown deepened as she crossed her arms. “Do you really want my help?”

“You’re the only one here with enough knowledge to actually help me refine this. And right now, after trying so much, I believe I really do need help. I don't want to spend months into this.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

That was all needed for Wang Jun to jump in. “I can help too, you know.”

Chen Ren raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you specialize in outdated methods?”

“There’s no such thing as outdated knowledge in cultivation. We’ve been using the same principles for hundreds of years, and they work just fine.”

Chen Ren opened his mouth to concede—he wasn’t entirely wrong—but Qing He cut in before he could.

“Alright, I’ll help. I’ve got a few ideas already… but I’m doing this as a favor. I would use that one day and you wouldn't be able to get out of it by using your sweet tongue.”

Chen Ren smiled, clearly not minding the jab. Then, he looked back at his workshop. “That’s all good with me. We’re going to have some exciting days ahead of us.”

***

The next few days were not exciting at all.

Perfecting recipes and refining his new method of alchemy turned out to be an incredibly tedious—and exhausting—task. Far from the thrill of invention, it was a slog of measuring, boiling, grinding, and more measuring. Every ingredient had to be weighed accurately. They had to figure out better ways to dissolve herbs in spirit water without compromising purity, and—perhaps the hardest part—find a binding material that could carry flavor without ruining the pill’s integrity.

Chen Ren, at one point, entertained the idea of flavoring the pills like candies, imagining rows of mint or chocolate-flavored qi boosters. But even he had the sense not to say it aloud.

That level of madness could wait. For now, he needed to get at least three more reliable pill types added to his recipe book before he could even think about "candy-like pills."

Thankfully, help arrived in an unexpected form.

Anji volunteered to assist—without being asked—and took charge of the herb measurements with surprising efficiency. Wang Jun joined her and it quickly became apparent that he had a deep knowledge of herbs. Even Qing He looked impressed when he identified multiple substitutes that dissolved better in spirit water while maintaining the same effects.

That part alone shaved off hours of trial and error.

But it was Anji who truly proved invaluable. She quietly mentioned her experience working in the alchemy halls of the Void Blade Sect, and her competence showed. Under Chen Ren’s instructions, she calculated the exact quantities needed to make a consistent batch of twenty pills—down to the last stalk and grain.

And she didn’t stop there.

Without needing to be told, she began developing spreadsheets—on parchment, of course—mapping the costs of each herb, the volume of ingredients, and even projecting profit margins per batch. When Chen Ren glanced at her notes, he blinked twice. She had even calculated the overhead cost of spirit water production and labor in terms of spirit stones.

It was to the point that Chen Ren decided, then and there, that Anji would be the one handling the pill business for him. She might not have made a single pill herself, but the way she managed the logistics—herbs, costs, profits—was something even he couldn’t replicate without burning out.

That decision, at least, was easy.

What wasn’t easy was everything else.

The Qi Replenishment Pill, for all its flaws, had been the simplest one on his list. The real challenge began when they moved on to the next three basic pills he wanted to recreate—ones every young cultivator kept stocked: Scarlet bloom healing pellets,

Bone-refining capsules and Focus clarity pills.

Unlike the Qi Replinsment pill, these were a headache from the very beginning.

Not only were they more complex in composition, but they also demanded longer preparation times and more sensitive handling. The Scarlet bloom healing pellet in particular used a fire-aspected herb that absolutely refused to dissolve in spirit water, no matter what method they tried. Chen Ren scratched his head over it until it felt like his scalp would bleed.

He and Qing He spent hours poring through notes, trying every substitution they could think of. Even Wang Jun pitched in with a few herb names that looked promising—only to reveal, after a second thought, that they were either extinct or unavailable near Meadow Village.

Eventually, they dropped that particular pill altogether.

Fortunately, the world of pill-making wasn’t short on basics, and they pivoted to a different one—a common Muscle Recovery Pill that had fewer restrictions and a lot more room for experimentation. If Chen Ren had to point out the real problem, though, it wasn’t the recipes.

They had time. They could tweak the mixtures and run trials until the measurements were exact. Once that was done, most pills stabilized and followed predictable results.

No, the real problem was the equipment.

Aside from the basic heating arrays, Chen Ren had been experimenting with inserting auxiliary arrays into the cauldron interiors—arrays that would agitate the mixture, help with essence separation, or accelerate evaporation. The theory was sound. The application, not so much.

There was only so much a cauldron could take before the inscriptions interfered with each other or just melted straight off.

And more than once, he found himself standing in front of a smoking piece of scrap metal wondering how real alchemists dealt with this daily.

Which brought him to another conclusion—they were going to need an actual alchemist or two. Not just for the pills’ integrity, but to certify the quality, balance, and grade of each batch they produced. Innovation was fine, but without recognized alchemists backing them, they were just rogue pill sellers with no reputation.

Anji could handle the business side of things. She’d gotten experience with the alcohol venture already—organizing transport, managing supply chains, and doing the math no one else wanted to touch. Chen Ren had no doubt she’d do the same here.

But supervisors and equipment were another matter entirely.

Unfortunately, after just one serious conversation with Qing He, he realized how far out of reach those things really were.

They sat across from each other at a low table, the scent of dried herbs lingering in the air. Qing He stirred her tea idly, not even looking at him as she spoke.

“You need to understand something, Chen Ren. Cauldrons for alchemy aren’t easy to get. The good ones are made by sects themselves. Even the ones in regular alchemy shops are second-rate at best. You are lucky I gave you the ones I have.” She looked up, her eyes steady. “And for what you’re trying to do, you don’t just need one—you need big ones. Ones that can handle embedded arrays, uniform heating, batch refinement. Those are rare. And expensive. You’ll need to shell out a lot of spirit stones.”

She paused to take a slow sip, then added, “And alchemists? You’re lucky to have a few cultivators working with you now. Skilled alchemists don’t wander around waiting to be hired. Your best bet is to start training someone new. But that’ll take years.”

Chen Ren exhaled slowly, slumping forward on the table. “There’s got to be a way,” he muttered. “You don’t want to supervise the pill assembly line either.”

“Obviously I don’t,” Qing He replied with a sniff. “I have better things to do with my time.”

He bit back the retort that nearly slipped out—like drinking tea all day?—and instead stared down at the unfinished schematic on the table between them.

It wasn’t like he could just walk into the wilds and stumble across a skilled alchemist and perfectly preserved pill cauldrons.

…Or could he?

It was far-fetched. Ridiculous, even. Skilled alchemists were rare and always affiliated with sects or clans. Good equipment gets taken away by the powerhouses—usually those same sects.

But then, a flicker of memory came to him. Something Tang Boming had said when handing him a scroll of information on Broken Ridge City's clans and sects.

Chen Ren’s gaze slowly shifted to Qing He.

“Acquisition,” he said aloud.

She blinked. “What?”

“I need to do an acquisition,” Chen Ren said, eyes lighting up as the idea turned into a full-blown plan in his mind. “That’s how we solve this.”

***

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