Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 101: Inner Allies, Outer Threats

Chapter 101: Inner Allies, Outer Threats

The two visitors shared the same surname, Mo. The older one, Mo Guinong, looked about the same age as Yu Deno—weather-beaten, mid-forties, with the weary lines of a loose cultivator etched into his face. The younger, Mo Jianxin, couldn't have been more than fifteen, sharp-featured and clearly kin, the resemblance striking in their narrow eyes and tight-set jaws.

Shen Chang was keeping them company, chatting idly, but the pair kept glancing around, fidgety as cornered rats, their minds miles away from the conversation. Whatever had them spooked ran deep.

Qi Xiu watched from the doorway, a flicker of curiosity stirring. He hadn't even spoken yet, but his innate gift—Insight into Human Nature—brushed against them like an unseen hand. Their hidden thoughts spilled open, raw and unguarded, every scheming whisper laid bare.

"This is our Sect Leader Qi," Shen Chang said as Qi Xiu approached, gesturing warmly.

"Sect Leader Qi!" Mo Guinong blurted, leaning in with exaggerated deference. "We've long heard of your name. This visit... it's urgent. We need to speak privately—clear the room."

The old man dripped secrecy, oblivious that Qi Xiu had already peeled back his every intention.

Shen Chang caught Qi Xiu's subtle nod and slipped out without a word. The side hall fell quiet, just the three of them now: grandfather, grandson, and the sect leader.

"Sect Leader," Mo Guinong plunged in, voice pitched low and dramatic, "my grandson and I stumbled on a dangerous secret. We're here to warn you. If you don't prepare soon, the Chu Qin Sect could face utter disaster!"

He braced for shock, already tallying in his head how the panic would play out—perfect leverage to bargain for what was rightfully his.

Qi Xiu only chuckled, low and steady, rooted in place like he had all the time in the world.

Mo Guinong faltered. "Uh... Sect Leader, don't you care about your sect's safety?"

"Of course I do." Qi Xiu's tone stayed even, almost amused. "But you two—strangers to us—risking your necks to tip us off? That kind of generosity usually comes with strings attached."

His gift had sifted through them already. Not villains, these Mos—just ordinary folk ground down by the cultivation world's grind, scraping for an edge. Still, no point letting the old man dictate the pace, inflating demands from the clouds. Better to call the bluff early, knock him off balance.

"How did you—!"

Mo Guinong's eyes widened, genuine surprise cracking his facade. He was no hardened schemer, just a cautious sort forced into corners. Refusing outright would've painted a target on his back; better to play along, then slip away and hedge bets here. Maybe snag that promised reward in the chaos.

Qi Xiu pressed the advantage, voice casual but edged. "The matter you came to discuss? I've got wind of it already. Things look lax around here, but we're coiled tight underneath. Those fools might come knocking and never leave. Why not cut the games, Mo? Spill it straight. I might even grant what you're after."

He let his gaze linger on Mo Jianxin for a beat—long enough to unsettle.

This Chu Qin leader sees too much, Mo Guinong thought, unease prickling his skin. Nothing slips past him.

Left with little choice, the old man laid it all out, every detail. Qi Xiu's gift confirmed the truth—no lies woven in. Cross-referencing with what he knew of his own sect's affairs, the pieces slotted together neatly.

It traced back to Qi Xiu's brush with disaster at the Military Supply Market. While the Chu Qin cultivators, led by Zhang Shishi, rushed off to check on him, only Huang Shao'neng and Li Tan remained at Immortal Grove Hollow—an old man and a kid. Huang had always kept to himself, tending spirit fields with quiet diligence. Back then, the sect scraped by on nothing; no one worried about him. Zhang Shishi trusted the setup completely.

Then came the windfall from Wang Qing. Overnight wealth transformed them—grand construction, fresh robes and tools for everyone. Huang watched it all from the sidelines, cold calculation brewing over months of shared meals and mundane days.

He knew their strengths were middling at best. Easy pickings, with riches ripe for the taking.

Slipping out under some pretext, Huang linked up with an old acquaintance from the Spirit Value Alliance, then roped in a desperate early Foundation Establishment rogue cultivator. They hatched a plan: hit the Chu Qin Sect hard and fast.

The Mo family, loose cultivators with deep ties to the hollow's original owners—the Lin clan—got dragged in too.

Mo Guinong lacked the spine for outright refusal. He nodded along, joined the plot on paper. But the idea of real bloodshed gnawed at him. And he hadn't forgotten the second-tier jade slip the Lins once promised Mo Jianxin as a betrothal token or favor. Spotting a gap when Huang left to rally his partners, Mo Guinong seized the chance: dash to Qi Xiu, spill the beans, and angle for that slip in return.

Qi Xiu smiled faintly. "Play along with us, cooperate fully—and that jade slip's yours, no questions."

He sent the pair back as plants inside the conspiracy. Once the traitors struck, they'd net the lot, Huang included. Qi Xiu stepped out, pulled Shen Chang aside, and ordered him to alert the Wei clan in the mountain capital without delay. Robbing the Chu Qin Sect right under their noses? The Weis wouldn't sit idle.

Timing it close, he warned the disciples: stay put when the day came. Lure them in, trap them like fish in a barrel.

Then, with Zhang Shishi in tow, he headed behind the main hall. Kneeling, he pried up an unremarkable floor slab—nothing special at a glance.

"Who'd have thought the Lin clan's hidden vault lay right beneath? That slab's clever—blocks spiritual sense completely. When the Weis uprooted every spirit herb here, they never sniffed this out."

The space below cramped narrow, a dozen steps down to a tiny chamber. Scattered wooden crates lay ransacked, spirit stones and trinkets strewn about, most emptied long ago. Zhang Shishi poked through the mess with a sigh, finally hauling out one intact box crammed with books. The looters must've dismissed them—mundane texts, worthless to cultivators.

Qi Xiu flipped open a thick regional gazetteer. Tucked between pages: a jade slip. Pressed to his forehead, the contents flooded in—Detailed Insights into the Lian Shui Alliance's Water Refinement Technique. Second-tier artifact forging manual. Exactly what the Mos craved.

Without reading Mo Guinong's mind, he'd never have pinpointed this spot.

"If not for that tip-off," Qi Xiu muttered, a chill settling in his gut, "Huang—that old dog—might've actually taken us down."

He pocketed the slip, let Zhang Shishi gather the rest—scattered odds and ends, salvageable books. They climbed out, eased the slab back into place.

"Loose cultivators from White Mountain," Zhang Shishi grumbled, shaking his head. "Seem harmless day-to-day. Spot a crack in the shell, though, and they turn into bloodthirsty bandits overnight."

Huang had even registered with the Artifact Talisman Alliance, excelled at farming too. They'd respected him—quiet, reliable elder. Who knew greed could twist him so vicious?

The attack loomed close. No time to recall comrades from Black River Peak. Outwardly lax, inwardly braced, they let Huang come and go freely, feigning ignorance. Wait for the strike, then end it decisively.

...

Moonless night, wind howling through the hollow—perfect for murder.

Immortal Grove Hollow lay hushed, shadows thick.

Nine figures materialized outside the mountain gate, swathed head to toe in black cloth.

"Hoot... hoot..." One mimicked a night bird, clumsy but clear.

From inside the protective array, Huang Shao'neng hurried out to greet them, none the wiser that his scheme lay exposed. Peering across the barrier, he couldn't resist a jab. "Sixth, you call that a bird? Thought a damn toad crawled up and croaked its last."

"Stuff it," the caller shot back, grinning under his wrap. "Last-minute practice—cut me some slack."

They bantered easy, like old friends on a stroll, not raiders poised for slaughter and theft.

"Enough chatter," a tall figure growled low—Foundation Establishment aura unmistakable. "Move."

Huang didn't push back. He pointed to a section of the shimmering barrier. "Right there. The Lin array took a beating from the Weis once—weak spots everywhere. I've mapped 'em thorough."

"Good." The leader scanned his crew. "Third, the Array-Breaking Talisman—now. Quiet and clean. Wipe 'em all, no traces left."

Third stepped up, slapped the talisman on the indicated flaw. Incantation murmured, it burned a man-sized hole straight through—silent, the array humming on oblivious. Ingenious work.

"Now—who's grabbing their mortal kin? Leverage if things bog down."

The leader's gaze swept the group. Prime looting ahead; no one volunteered, hands itching for richer hauls inside.

As he opened his mouth to assign, one figure pushed forward. "We'll go. My grandson and I know the terrain. Just don't forget your end of the deal."

Mo Guinong's voice, tense but firm. The leader grunted assent. The pair darted off into the dark—supposedly to snatch hostages. In truth, as Chu Qin's plants, they veered wide, hunkering down to watch the unfolding trap.

The remaining seven filed through the breach, Huang leading straight toward the thatched halls.