Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 113: Fortieth Birthday

"Disciples Zhang Shishi, Zhan Yuan, Bai Muhan, and He Yu humbly wish Sect Leader Senior Brother a joyous birthday. May your path in cultivation rise ever higher, enduring like pine and cypress. May the Chu Qin Sect soar onward, its grand vision renewed each day!"

"Good, good... rise, all of you."

Qi Xiu couldn't keep the grin off his face as his four prized disciples knelt before him, offering birthday blessings. He nodded to Wei Minniang behind him. She'd prepared red envelopes long ago. The four accepted them, stood with proper formality, then split into pairs and took their places on either side of the hall.

This fortieth birthday coincided with a string of fortunes: ten years since the Chu Qin Sect's southern migration, a full year owning Immortal Grove Hollow, Qi Xiu breaking through to Qi Refining Seventh Layer, He Yu reaching Ninth Layer, and four children newly inducted at the Immortal Ascension Ceremony. Joy piled on joy. Everyone in the sect gathered at the hollow to celebrate in style.

"Disciples Yu Denou, Yu Shang, Mo Guinong, and Mo Jianxin humbly wish..."

"Disciples Pan Rong, Shen Chang, Yu Jing, and Li Tan humbly wish..."

"Disciples Qin Weiyu, Qin Siguo, Ming Jiu, and Zhao Yao humbly wish..."

The blessings came in four waves—sixteen disciples in all. Add Qi Xiu and his wife, and the Chu Qin Sect now boasted eighteen cultivators. A proper gathering at last.

Ever since claiming the hollow, families had poured in. The past year marked the sect's fastest growth. Even in the old Chu Qin days, unearthing four talented kids in a single year would've been cause for massive celebration. Now, with fewer than three thousand souls under their banner, this harvest felt nothing short of heavenly favor. Qi Xiu wouldn't believe otherwise.

Qin Siguo—five years old, from the Qin clan, distant kin to Qin Ji. Best talent among the new batch: three main roots, two auxiliary. Qin Ji had renamed him later, a nod to atonement and flattery.

Yu Shang—also five, Yu family, grandnephew to Yu Denou. The Yus had migrated with just over fifty kin, all close blood to the elder. His emergence left Yu Denou beaming, crediting ancestral blessings.

Zhao Yao—eight years old. Her story bordered on legend. She bore the Zhao name but no tie to Qin Ji's in-laws. An orphan after the Shandu Sect's fall, she'd begged her way south with a ragtag band of urchins, slipping into the ceremony crowd. And just like that—she ascended.

Ming Jiu—oldest at over thirty. His arrival was pure chance. Qi Xiu had approached Bai Xiaosheng about taking over teaching duties from Yu Denou someday. The man agreed but, ever lazy, first recommended an old mortal scholar friend—Ming Sansheng—to handle basic lessons outside the Dao. Ming Jiu, the scholar's favorite youngest son, had come along to care for his seventy-something father. Qi Xiu spotted the Spiritual Root on sight. Nearly sent the old man into ecstatic shock.

The three bore mixed roots—dim prospects in cultivation. But with Mo Jianxin as precedent, hope lingered.

Next came mortal dignitaries: Qin Ji and his wife, Ming Sansheng, Kan Da, various family heads. They offered deep bows. Qi Xiu bid them rise, letting little Yue'er hand out more envelopes.

Wei Minniang smiled bright, eyes soft on her daughter's obedient figure. She and Qi Xiu lived in harmony these days, content and close. The old bitterness had faded; she glowed healthier, more radiant by the month.

The rite stayed simple, solemn—no outside guests. It wrapped quick. Most mortals lacked rank to linger in the main hall; they filed off to side rooms for their feast. The eighteen cultivators, plus Yue'er, Qin Ji's couple, and the Ming pair took seats at the banquet tables. Kan Da directed servants to pour and serve. Cups clinked, voices rose—lively as could be.

Qi Xiu shared the joy, but memories tugged at him. Ten years back, ten of them crowded around a single round table—warm, tight-knit. That scene wouldn't come again. A quiet ache settled in. His gaze drifted across the crowd, catching Zhang Shishi's subtle watches on the Qin folk's interactions. He sighed under his breath.

"What's wrong?"

Wei Minniang's beautiful eyes rarely left him. She caught the sigh, voice gentle. Yue'er sat in her lap, gnawing a chunk of pork-fish—the Black River delicacy now reserved just for her. Who knew how long supplies would hold.

"Nothing. Just missing the two disciples we lost."

He brushed it off lightly. But the hall chilled anyway. Zhang Shishi, Zhan Yuan, and others paused mid-sip, faces somber. The new recruits, clueless, set down their cups too.

"Look at you..." Wei Minniang shot him a playful glare. "Spouting that on a day like this."

With Qi Xiu's growing cultivation and authority, only she spoke to him so freely anymore.

"Ah, my bad, my bad. Three cups as punishment."

He recovered quick, downing them. Laughter returned; the feast rolled from dusk to midnight, everyone loose and merry.

Qin Ji drowned sorrows deepest. Staggering drunk, he hauled Qin Weiyu and Qin Siguo over for a toast, words slurring thick. "Sect Leader Immortal Master... lifted Chu Qin from ruin to this glory. Great fortune, great merit, great wisdom... This scene today—dreamed of it night and day. The Qin family holds gratitude eternal. Only ask... only ask..."

Qi Xiu's mood soured watching him. Face darkened.

His wife tried pulling him back—he shook her off, dropped to his knees, voice breaking. "Only ask Sect Leader hold fairness... treat Weiyu and Siguo well. Don't let my past wrongs drag them down..."

"Insolence!"

Zhan Yuan snapped first, striding over to slap him hard across the face. Qin Ji crumpled, sobbing into his palm.

"What gives you the right to meddle in sect affairs? Get out!" Zhang Shishi stepped up too, signaling the wife with a glance. She dragged her weeping husband away.

The outburst killed the vibe. After a few more rounds, Qi Xiu called it.

He passed sleeping Yue'er to a maid for bed. Wei Minniang supported his tipsy frame back to the thatched hall. "Why bother getting mad at a mortal? Not worth it."

She handed him sobering tea. He stared listless into the cup.

"Alas..."

Leaves floated green on the surface. "Being sect leader—tough. Can't please everyone. Always someone feeling shorted."

She tipped the bowl, helping him sip deep. Smiled. "You know that already. So why the gloom?"

"Not gloom. Annoyance. Qin Ji's got that knot from his old sins. Whatever I do now, he reads as revenge on his family. Too close—he resents familiarity. Too far—he gripes neglect. Same old dance."

Truth told, Qi Xiu had little to complain about. Ten years: Qi Refining Second to Seventh Layer. Sect thriving. People's lives improving. A wonderful wife dropped from the heavens. Aside from secrets buried too deep to share, he'd face the old sect leader in a hundred years and say bold: "I did better than you."

Wei Minniang found no words to lift him further. She cleared the tea things in silence, helped him settle, then slipped out of her robes and curled into his arms.

Wine usually sparked fire, but tonight it didn't catch. He held his beauty close and drifted into heavy sleep.