Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 125: Farewell at the Border Post Market

For the first time in more than a decade since he arrived in the Southern Border, He Yu was leaving the nest alone.

Qi Xiu chose an auspicious hour for departure—northwest-bound, so the wind would be at his back. With Qin Weiyu and Mo Guinnong in tow, they escorted him all the way to the border post market. Zhan Yuan and his wife, naturally, stayed away.

“This is far enough.”

He Yu was pushing thirty now. The green boyishness had long faded from his face, replaced by the quiet solidity of a man who’d weathered more than a few storms. His bearing still carried that effortless grace, but maturity had sharpened the edges. Standing on the verge of parting, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Sect Leader, Senior Brother Zhan was right to curse me. I’ve been selfish this time. When you go back… please apologize to him properly on my behalf. I swear it—Chu Qin Sect will never be let down by me again. This is where we part. Go home.”

Qi Xiu felt a pang he couldn’t quite name.

“Just a little farther,” he said, almost pleading. “A little farther…”

He hated the thought of the boy facing the world beyond their protection—rain, wind, deceit, knives in the dark. Even the smallest mistake could cut too deep.

Mo Guinnong laid a heavy hand on Qi Xiu’s shoulder.

“Let him go, Sect Leader. You can’t escort him all the way to the end of his road. Sooner or later you have to loosen your grip. His cultivation is already higher than yours—what exactly are you afraid of?”

The three of them watched in silence as He Yu summoned the Moonshadow Mysterious Ice Sword. He stepped onto the blade. Qi Xiu had forced the sword on him in the end—it had been forged for him from the beginning. Better to have it for protection on the long road ahead.

“Wait! Hold on a moment!”

A shout rang out from behind.

Everyone turned. A streak of sword light cut across the sky—Bai Xiaosheng and Zhang Shishi.

Apparently Zhang Shishi had heard about the departure too late and begged Bai Xiaosheng to fly him over so he wouldn’t miss saying goodbye.

“Take care out there!”

Zhang Shishi lunged forward the moment he landed, wrapping He Yu in a fierce hug. The two had always been close. More words followed—repetitive, earnest, the kind of advice that gets said because there’s nothing else left to say. Eventually, though, he had to let go.

He Yu stepped back onto the sword, turned, and gave them all a deep, formal bow.

“Take care of yourselves.”

Tears streaked his face as he urged the blade forward. Silver light streaked northwest until it shrank to a distant pinprick, then vanished entirely.

Zhang Shishi stared after it for a long time before finally lowering his gaze.

“He’s grown up,” he said quietly to Qi Xiu. “By the time he comes back… we might have to call him Senior. This was probably the last time I’ll ever get to play the big brother in front of him.”

“As long as he comes back safe,” Qi Xiu murmured.

There was something almost hopeful in Zhang Shishi’s tone—like he already believed Foundation Establishment was inevitable. Qi Xiu found himself starting to picture it too.

“When that day comes,” he added with a small smile, “finding a teacher good enough for him is going to be the real problem.”

Bai Xiaosheng snorted.

“Listen to Sect Leader Qi. Sounds like you’re planning to kill the donkey the moment the millstone’s done grinding, eh?”

He’d spent the last couple of years guiding He Yu closely, and he certainly recognized the boy’s talent. Still, their relationship remained teacher and student—nothing deeper. Watching Qi Xiu and Zhang Shishi wax sentimental could drag on forever, and Bai Xiaosheng had no intention of lingering in the middle of a crowded market street any longer than necessary. A quick joke was enough to change the subject.

Mo Guinnong chuckled along. Qi Xiu hurried to smooth things over.

“Never, Senior Bai. With your vast experience and incisive insight into the Dao, how could I bear to slaughter such a fine donkey?”

A few more laughs passed between them. Then they turned back together. Qin Weiyu’s cultivation was the weakest, so Bai Xiaosheng simply wrapped him in his aura and carried him along in flight.

“Zhan Yuan’s sulking because his horizons are narrow,” Zhang Shishi said as he flew shoulder-to-shoulder with Qi Xiu. “The man’s loyalty to the sect is beyond question, but he puts too much weight on coin and commerce. No matter how many spirit stones you pile up, they’re just worldly wealth. Cultivation is the root. No skin, no hair to attach to. Once He Yu successfully reaches Foundation Establishment, Zhan Yuan will understand exactly how valuable another Foundation Building cultivator is to the sect.”

Qi Xiu listened without comment, offering only vague, noncommittal replies.

“And the tournament this time?” Mo Guinnong drifted closer. “With Jianxin still recovering… I don’t want the boy going in half-crippled.”

Qi Xiu sighed. “Since we’ve already lost our best shot at a strong showing, we may as well pull Jianxin out too. Let him stay home and heal properly. The participant list was submitted ages ago—changing it now would violate the rules anyway. Shishi can go alone and represent us. We’re technically the hosts, after all. Sending no one would look worse than sending one.”

He knew exactly what Mo Guinnong was worried about. With the level of opponents this year, even if Mo Jianxin got lucky, he’d almost certainly be eliminated in the first round.

Back at Black River Peak, Bai Xiaosheng excused himself and returned to Immortal Grove Hollow. He had no intention of sticking around for the chaos of the tournament. Zhang Shishi, on the other hand, simply stayed put in one of the peak’s guest caves. Qi Xiu went down to the market and spent hours talking Zhan Yuan around until the man finally stopped fuming. In the end, Zhan Yuan agreed to stay and help see the whole thing through.

…

“So lively! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Wei Minniang stared wide-eyed at the sea of people flooding Black River Market. It was her first time witnessing the place at full tide. She held Wei Yue’er’s small hand in one of hers, linked arms with Bai Muhan with the other, and let herself be carried along the packed main street, chatting as they went.

“White Mountain rogue cultivators love a spectacle,” Bai Muhan explained. Her belly had begun to show noticeably; she’d put on a little weight and carried herself with quiet, glowing contentment. “Even ten years ago, when the market was barely more than a few stalls, tons of them showed up just to watch the fights. Now? It’s only gotten bigger.”

She leaned in conspiratorially.

“But if you’re looking for bargains… follow me. Every shop on the redistribution list is slashing prices to clear inventory while ownership is still up in the air. Prices are actually reasonable for once.”

Wei Minniang’s gaze drifted to Bai Muhan’s rounded stomach, concern flickering in her eyes.

“You’re sure it’s alright? Walking around in this crowd…”

Bai Muhan glanced down, laid a gentle hand on the swell, and smiled—pure anticipation and tenderness radiating from her.

“We cultivators aren’t made of porcelain. It’s still early. I’m fine.”

Wei Minniang’s face brightened.

“Then let’s shop! I haven’t strolled the streets properly since our last trip to the He Huan Sect. But first—you have to help me drag Zhao Yao out with us. Buy her some bright new clothes. Your Sect Leader brother keeps teasing me that I only dress myself and Yue’er, never the other girls. But that stubborn little thing won’t even wear a hairpin. My words bounce right off her. You’ve got a silver tongue—help me convince her.”

Bai Muhan laughed softly.

“Deal.”

They turned back, Wei Yue’er trotting happily between them.

“And… you?” Bai Muhan asked quietly, eyes flicking toward Wei Minniang’s flat stomach.

Wei Minniang’s smile faltered. She gave a small, slow shake of her head.

Bai Muhan saw the shadow cross her friend’s face and tactfully let the subject drop.

While the women wandered the stalls, Chu Qin Sect’s various businesses in the market were doing roaring trade thanks to the sudden influx. Zhan Yuan had roped Pan Rong and Shen Chang into helping; the three of them were run off their feet, which at least took some of the sting out of his lingering resentment toward He Yu.

Qi Xiu sat alone in a private guest room, flipping through the loose pamphlet the White Mountain loose cultivators had printed: a ranking of the tournament participants’ estimated strength.

He Yu’s name sat comfortably in the top twenty-five among Qi Refining competitors. The entry beneath it was unusually detailed—proof that, whatever else people thought of him, most acknowledged his ability.

He Yu, approximately thirty years old. Confirmed innate affinities: Earth and Water. In the previous tournament, at Qi Refining Layer 5, he defeated late-stage cultivator Sha Konghe of the White Sand Gang using his innate talent Ice Spike Earth Thorn. Rumors place him at the threshold of Qi Refining Perfection. Talent: upper-middle. Combat strength: upper-upper. Possesses a second-grade water-element flying sword (appears relatively weak). Innate talent counters certain sects/techniques; may be countered by others. Odds to win: 25th place…

Yu Deno stood behind him, reading the analysis aloud in a booming voice, then chuckled.

“Impressive memory these gossips have. Too bad they don’t know he already ditched that old Water-Nurturing Sword ages ago. If he brings out the Moonshadow Mysterious Ice Sword, I’d bet good money he cracks the top ten.”

Qi Xiu kept flipping pages.

Mo Guinnong leaned over. “Where are Shishi and my Jianxin?”

Qi Xiu reached the end. Nothing.

He closed the pamphlet with an awkward cough.

“These are just idle rumors. Nothing to take seriously.”