Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 103: The Final Moment

Silence answered from beyond the gate—thick, oppressive quiet.

The Foundation builder flicked Sixth's head aside like trash. It thudded wetly, rolled a few times in the dirt, and lay still.

He started to sweep the area with divine sense when Mo Jianxin staggered into view at the gate, drenched in blood, face twisted in raw terror. "The Weis are here! Run—run for your lives!"

A flying sword flashed under his feet as he bolted into the night, glancing back wild-eyed, like something unholy nipped at his heels.

"What!? The Weis? Where?"

Panic rippled through the black-clads. Hands froze mid-spell; eyes darted everywhere.

"Maybe... we bail?"

Third trembled outright, turning to the leader. "I've got family, roots. Chalk this up as a bad night—I'm out."

"Idiots!"

Huang Shao'neng snapped, desperation cracking his voice. "You lot can vanish clean—no traces. Me? Name on registers everywhere. How far you think I'd get...?"

Third rounded on him, practically hopping mad. "Told you this was a ditch! I said no, but you dragged me anyway. Want me buried with you now?"

"Shut it—all of you!" The Foundation builder's roar cut through the chaos, steadying them again.

Years licking blood off blades sharpened his instincts. A beat to think, and the pieces clicked. He reached out, yanking Sixth's severed head back into his grip. "This came from the same direction as that Mo kid. Odds are, he did the cutting."

"Why would he?"

Third still wavered, itching to flee. The others hesitated too, eyes locking on their leader for the call.

"Why?" A dark chuckle. "Simple—they see us closing in, spook us off, then swoop the profits themselves. Fisherman and the clam."

It fit. And no Weis in sight all this time. "No more stalling. Back at it! Thieves don't leave empty-handed. Wipe them clean—that's the only safe play. Otherwise, they trace old Huang, dig you all up one by one. Believe that? Job done, we hunt those Mo bastards to the ends of the earth. Silence them permanent."

The words landed heavy. Hearts steeled; attacks renewed with grim finality. If the Mos flipped, secrecy died. Word was this tiny sect's leader tied by marriage to a Wei Golden Core—if it leaked, surviving White Mountain turned nightmare.

The Water-Moon Mirage Array bucked like a skiff in a storm. Third quit griping about costs—Array-Breaking Talismans flew one after another. Each strike bogged the formation down, grinding its flow to sludge.

"Mo Jianxin's bought us solid time," Qi Xiu muttered inside, frustration gnawing. "But the Weis—half a shichen's up. Where the hell are they?"

Mang Mountain Sink exploded in a shower of shards—Zhang Shishi's third shield ruined. He ignored the backlash churning his qi, dove back to the hub, pouring his last dregs into the array. Shen Chang, Pan Rong, Yu Jing bled from nose and mouth, flickering like spent lamps. His gaze flicked to Qi Xiu, slumped against the wall, blood threading his lip, lost deep in thought—deaf to the world.

Then it hit.

"Stop—everyone, hands off! No more burning your cores!" Qi Xiu's head snapped up, voice cracking like a whip. "Let them in. We won't die."

He added, sharp: "That's an order."

"Why?"

Zhang Shishi and the others hesitated, but years of deference won. They eased back.

A cold smile tugged Qi Xiu's mouth. "If I'm right... the Weis have been here all along."

He'd sent Shen Chang ahead—tip-off delivered. The Weis had zero reason to ignore it; effortless favor. Only one explanation for the hold: same as that baffling marriage dump of Wei Minniang. Wei Xuan couldn't read him clean, so he probed—poking with pressure, waiting to see what crawled out.

Life-or-death crunch? Perfect stage. No holding back.

How much did Wei Xuan know? Why the games? Long as the Chu family mess stayed buried, Qi Xiu had little to hide.

One certainty, though: tests were tests, but the Weis wouldn't let him actually die.

Boom.

Unfed, the array crumpled under the onslaught. Second-tier spirit stones shattered; bricks blasted outward. Qi Xiu sat calm amid the debris, smiling faint as Huang Shao'neng lunged through the breach—face warped in savage triumph.

Ding.

A soft bell chime rang out at the brink.

Every intruder—Foundation Establishment down to Qi Refining—dropped like puppets with cut strings, out cold.

Only Qi Xiu stayed awake.

A figure in deep crimson robes descended slow from the heights, cradling a gleaming golden bell.

"Gambled right."

Relief flooded Qi Xiu, loose and warm. Without cracking the Weis' angle, they'd have fought to dry husks—sucked dead in that pavilion.

"Heh, not too late, I hope! Sect Leader Qi—you holding up?"

The Wei cultivator hammed concern, stepping close.

Qi Xiu coughed, playing it up. "Cough—thanks for the save. Otherwise, every soul in Chu Qin... gone tonight. Cough."

Disdain flickered private in his chest, but Insight into One's Own Heart spun smooth—gratitude painted thick on his face, thanks spilling earnest.

"My duty."

The man popped a pill into Qi Xiu's mouth, then moved among the others, tending wounds with practiced hands.

"Just... this bell? Gift from the ancestor. Below Golden Core, it seizes the soul on hearing. Rarely fails." Casual tone, but the probe hung heavy. "Yet you stay clear-headed. Quite the surprise."

Qi Xiu chuckled soft. "My natal spirit's a Red-Bottomed Horse Monkey. Useless for cultivation, but born resistant to soul-snatching arts. Made a fool of me, I'm afraid."

"Ah... so that's it."

No more questions. The pills worked fast; Chu Qin folks stirred groggy as Wei reinforcements arrived on a flare signal. They trussed the unconscious raiders—Huang included—and hauled them off.

Qi Xiu spotted the Mo pair bound too, stepped in quick—vouched for them, secured release.

Toll was brutal: two arrays wrecked, fresh pavilion wall caved in, everyone wounded but Li Tan. Loss down to the bone.

But no graves dug. That counted as victory.

...

Back in the main hall, Qi Xiu lounged crooked on the leader's seat, words of thanks rolling easy while he slid a small storage pouch across to Mo Guinong.

The old man took it, murmured gratitude. Inside: the Detailed Insights into the Lian Shui Alliance's Water Refinement Technique jade slip, plus five third-tier spirit stones and a Foundation Establishment Pill. His breath caught.

He fished out just the slip, pushed the pouch back. "Sect Leader Qi—no need for excess. The slip was promised; I'll take that. The rest... too rich for our blood. We won't touch it—please, take it back."

Qi Xiu had already pegged them decent—stood firm in crisis, quick on their feet. Extra thanks felt right. But this? Turning down windfall greed-free? Talent like that sparked real interest. Pull them in, maybe.

He cupped hands, refused the pouch. Straight to it: "Mind if I ask—why chase this water refinement method so hard?"