Master, What Dao Do You Cultivate?-Chapter 14: In Youth, It Seemed the Stars Were Within Reach

A brown-haired teenager wearing sunglasses leaned against the shelves of Ji Family General Store, a cigarette between his lips, fiddling with a small metal disc engraved with strange symbols.
"Boss, what is this?"
Ji Qinglin took a sip of tea and said,
"Good eye, little brother. This is a Life Compass from the Old Era. When you don't know what choice to make in life, you can spin it with your fingertips, and it'll naturally point you in the right direction."
"But I can't read the symbols on it."
"The meaning of the symbols is whatever you assign to them."
The teenager nodded as if enlightened, quite satisfied with Ji Qinglin's explanation.
Ji Qinglin instinctively took a few steps back, putting some distance between himself and the teenager.
Good thing he's not from the Old Era—if he were and heard me talking nonsense like this, that spinning top would be flying straight into my face.
"I'll take it. How much?"
"50 red coins."
At the doorway, Shen Bixin, who had been waiting impatiently, cursed,
"D*mn conman! Selling something this tiny for that much?! You might as well go rob someone!"
Ji Qinglin didn't get angry; instead, he chuckled,
"Miss, even if I were to rob someone, I wouldn't target someone from the Security Task Force—that’d just be asking for trouble."
"You recognize us?"
"I don’t, but this little brother here forgot to take off his armband."
The Security Task Force was the private security force of Bangkok’s Ancheng Defense Company.
Times were unstable, and with cultivation, many individuals had gained extraordinary abilities.
To protect themselves, many wealthy individuals not only funded Qi Refiners but also hired the Security Task Force to provide rescue services when needed.
The Security Task Force was also one of the rare organizations with firearm privileges in this gun-restricted era.
After the North American split, people finally realized the importance of gun control.
"Jie, relics from the Old Era don’t come cheap."
With that, the teenager handed the money to Ji Qinglin.
"Boss, if you have similar relics, let me know—I'm interested in all of them."
"Thank you, thank you. No problem. What's your name, little brother?"
Gaa-gaa—
Seeing the cash, the Coal Boss flapped excitedly, spreading its wings and hopping onto the table beside the brown-haired teenager.
"I'm Shen Bitao. Boss, your black-feathered chicken is pretty cute."
As Shen Bitao introduced himself, he reached out and stroked the Coal Boss’s dark feathers.
"Got it, Brother Shen. My Coal Boss remembers people—drop by the shop often, and he’ll get even more familiar with you."
Just as Shen Bitao was about to leave, the Coal Boss suddenly jumped up, landed on his shoulder, and tugged at his clothes.
"Hmm? You don’t want me to go? Boss, your bird’s got some intelligence, huh?"
Shen Bixin snorted,
"More like it doesn’t want its walking moneybag to leave."
Ji Qinglin stepped forward and took the Coal Boss back.
"Sorry about that. Maybe he just took a liking to you. But Brother Shen, animals can have unusual senses sometimes—if you’ve got nothing urgent today, I’d recommend staying home."
Money-related matters could be joked about, but anything concerning luck and misfortune had to be spoken with caution.
There were no old tales of animals sensing disaster in this era, so Shen Bitao didn’t take it seriously.
Still, he responded politely,
"Thanks for the warning, Boss. I’ll drop by another day."
As the siblings left the general store, Shen Bixin reminded him,
"There are all sorts of people in this city. Don’t expose your identity so easily, and don’t be so flashy with your spending."
"Got it, Jie. But we’re at least half upper-class—what’s wrong with helping out the common folk a little?"
Shen Bitao pulled out another cigarette as he spoke, but before he could light it, Shen Bixin snatched it away.
"Didn't you promise to cut down on smoking?"
"Jie, I can’t smoke while working, and now you won’t even let me enjoy one in my free time?"
The Shen siblings were elite members of Ancheng Defense Company—Shen Bitao handled tactical rescues, while Shen Bixin was in charge of medical support.
Clients faced all kinds of dangerous situations, but with their squad’s outstanding skills and the reputation of the Security Task Force, most problems could be resolved.
Ancheng Defense paid them well—after all, when it came to life and money, the rich would always choose life.
The poor didn’t have a choice; they didn’t have the money to make one.
Ancheng Defense operated on a tiered service system:
Bronze level covered on-site medical assistance.
Silver level provided a single on-site rescue.
Gold level included real-time location-based rescue during work hours.
Platinum level, the highest, guaranteed emergency rescue at any time, no matter the situation.
The company’s selling point was that, no matter what, a platinum-level client would always be rescued.
With their substantial income, the siblings lived quite comfortably in Bangkok.
Shen Bitao loved this job, not just for the money, but because it made him feel like a real hero—just as the company advertised—rescuing people from dire situations.
This sense of self-worth made him willing to risk his life time and again to save clients.
Shen Bixin, however, wasn’t as hot-blooded as her brother. She just wanted a stable life for both of them.
To ensure that platinum-level clients had 24/7 service, the Security Task Force operated on a shift rotation system.
Beep—beep—beep—beep—
The alarm lights in the office flashed once again.
The siblings had just finished changing into their uniforms for their night shift when the emergency alert went off—
A platinum client was calling for immediate rescue.
"Wait for me!"
Shen Bitao quickly suited up in his combat gear, excitement flashing in his eyes.
Shen Bixin grabbed her emergency medical kit.
The two of them, along with three other ready team members, boarded the helicopter, heading toward the client's location—an abandoned building outside the city.
In most regions, including Singapore, Malaysia, and Thailand, gun control laws were especially strict on Qi Refiners.
Even artificial prosthetics were not allowed to contain firearm-based weapons.
Of course, this was all for the sake of stability—Qi Refiners were already incredibly powerful individuals, and if they were allowed to use guns, controlling them would be impossible.
For cost-effectiveness, Ancheng Defense opted to hire ordinary people instead of powerful Qi Refiners.
Moreover, they avoided using overly destructive weapons—any collateral damage would be too much for the company to handle.
As a result, aside from body armor, Security Task Force members only carried firearms and functional weapons.
Each member’s helmet displayed a unique identifier, marked with ancient English letters A, B, C, D, and E.
During missions, they never addressed each other by name—the company claimed it was for efficient communication.
The helicopter landed on the rooftop. The five-man team, fully geared, quickly descended the stairwell.
Explosions echoed from below, but the source was unclear.
Mixed with the blasts were screams—many of them.
From the sound of it, the client was in deep trouble.
The team quickened their pace. Luckily, after descending only three floors, they found the client—a man in a torn suit, limping with an injured leg, accompanied by two equally disheveled subordinates.
The three of them looked like they had just escaped from a battlefield in North Africa, their faces filled with panic. Seeing the Security Task Force, the client let out a sigh of relief but immediately started complaining:
"Thank God! What took you so long?! Get me out of here, now!"
Wearing the A-marked helmet, Shen Bitao signaled, and the team immediately surrounded the client. B and C, Shen Bixin among them, assisted the client upstairs.
The two remaining subordinates tried to follow, but the client waved his hand and said,
"Not so fast! Hold them off for me!"
The two subordinates exchanged glances but said nothing. It was clear they were Qi Refiners, but they seemed extremely wary of whatever was in the stairwell.
Shen Bitao fired two Tang Sect Prosthetic Virus Rounds and a tear gas grenade down the stairwell before turning back to ask,
"How many are there?"
"Just one! One f**
ing perverted, d
mn monk!"
Shen Bitao was also curious—how could just one monk have messed them up this badly? Judging by the situation, they must have already lost a lot of people downstairs.
But now wasn’t the time for curiosity. The top priority of the Security Task Force was to ensure the client’s safety. Shen Bitao continued leading the team, rushing the client upstairs.
Crack—
Just as they reached the next floor, a streak of blue-purple lightning shot up from below, striking the floor beside them and shattering a large chunk of concrete.