Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 141: The Third Brother, Kuai Liangshu

Qi Xiu’s mind screamed injustice. Those Array-Breaking Talismans weren’t even his—they’d been spoils from the old raid years ago. The Wei family had handed them over as part of the settlement package, and he’d simply kept them in his pouch ever since. Now the damn things had come back to bite him.

His cheek burned like fire. No time to nurse it.

“Senior, please hear me out,” he rushed. “Those Array-Breaking Talismans were given to me—nothing to do with me personally!”

“Given?” The burly cultivator bared his teeth in a sneer. “You expect me to swallow that? Array-Breaking Talismans are one of the Artifact & Talisman Alliance’s strictest controlled items. How the hell does a broke-down nobody like you end up with them?”

“Senior, you don’t know the full story…”

Qi Xiu laid it out plain and simple: the raid on Chu Qin Sect’s Scripture Pavilion led by that masked “Third Brother” and Huang Shaoneng’s crew, his own identity as sect leader, how the Wei family had compensated him with those exact talismans afterward. He spoke clearly, fact by fact. A small, desperate hope flickered—he could tell this Foundation cultivator wasn’t bloodthirsty. In the lawless deep mountains, where no one answered cries for help, most rogue cultivators would have slit his throat and looted the corpse by now. This one was still talking. That meant something.

“Oh? So you’re the sect leader of Chu Qin Sect?” The man’s sneer twisted into something closer to amusement. “And here I thought you were just a rogue cultivator.”

Qi Xiu’s face heated. Caught red-handed. He managed a sheepish chuckle. “Well… heh.”

The burly man rubbed his beard, thinking. Then:

“Fine. Let’s test that story. Tell me—who did Chu Qin Sect lease their market stall from? What’s the market called? Where exactly is the shop? And the cultivator who signed the soul contract with you—what’s his name?”

Qi Xiu blinked in genuine surprise. How did this man know about Duoluo Xin?

But the question was perfect. Only insiders knew those details—Chu Qin’s own people, Duoluo Xin himself, and the clerks at Guanghui Pavilion. No outsider could fake it.

“We leased the shop from a White Mountain rogue named Duoluo Xin,” Qi Xiu answered quickly. “It’s in Black River Market. The one who signed the soul contract with him was Zhan Yuan…”

The man listened without interrupting. When Qi Xiu finished, he peeled the sealing talisman off Qi Xiu’s forehead.

“You’re not lying. I’ll believe you—for now.” He gave a short nod. “Name’s Duoluonuo. Distant uncle to Duoluo Xin on the family tree. Small world, running into one of the kid’s acquaintances out here.”

Duoluonuo introduced himself casually, then launched into a few fond anecdotes about his nephew. The warmth in his voice was unmistakable—they’d kept in touch over the years. That explained how he knew the lease details so precisely.

“But I haven’t seen Xin’er in years,” Duoluonuo said, tone dropping. “How’s the boy doing?”

Qi Xiu’s expression darkened. “Ah… well.”

He told the truth. Duoluo Xin had taken the ten years’ prepaid rent, rented a cave dwelling in Qinan City, and gone into seclusion to break through to Foundation. He’d failed. Died. And Zhan Yuan—the one who’d signed the contract—had fallen years earlier in the Black River Market chaos, cut down by a White Mountain Golden Core rogue.

“Xin’er… is dead?”

Duoluonuo’s grip clamped down on Qi Xiu’s arm like iron. His roar cracked the quiet.

“Yes. Foundation attempt failed. Body and Dao both gone…”

The pain in his arm was nothing compared to the sudden, hollow ache in his chest. Foundation Establishment loomed ahead for him too—same razor’s edge. Rabbit dies, fox grieves. A faint, shared sorrow settled between them.

“Dead… ah.” Duoluonuo’s shoulders sagged. Tears carved clean tracks down his dirty cheeks. “The Duoluo family… just me left now.”

He stood there, eyes closed, lost in grief.

Then—without warning—his hand cracked across Qi Xiu’s face again.

Qi Xiu spun like a top, crashed to the dirt. Stars burst behind his eyes.

“You still dare say you’ve got nothing to do with them?” Duoluonuo snarled. “How else do you explain showing up right on their heels?!”

Qi Xiu clutched his throbbing face, dazed. Then he looked past the array boundary.

Seven or eight cultivators were approaching the secluded spring in the distance. And there—right in the middle—stood the unmistakable figure of the old “Third Brother.”

This was beyond coincidence. This was cursed.

Qi Xiu’s mind reeled. Ten years since that Scripture Pavilion raid. Years since Duoluo Xin’s lease deal. Yet here, in the middle of nowhere, two separate groups both tied back to him. What were the odds?

Was this fate? Heavenly Dao playing a sick joke? Or was his Foundation chance somehow tangled up with these people?

“Senior—listen to me!” Qi Xiu scrambled upright, desperate. “I swear I have zero connection to them. Pure bad luck!”

Duoluonuo followed Qi Xiu’s pointing finger. Recognition flashed.

“That one? Kuai Liangshu?” He spat the name like it tasted foul. “You know him?”

“So that’s his name—Kuai Liangshu. I know the face, not the name. Only that he was an inner disciple of the Artifact & Talisman Alliance.”

Duoluonuo studied the approaching group for a long moment. Then he exhaled, tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

He helped Qi Xiu to his feet, glancing at the swollen mess of his face with a wince. “Sorry. Hot temper. Heavy hand. Don’t hold it against me.”

Qi Xiu rubbed his jaw. Inside he was cursing a blue streak, but outwardly he kept it civil. “So he’s the nephew of a Golden Core elder—Kuai Tong? No wonder he walked away from a capital crime like robbery and still struts around like he owns the place. But with backing like that… why risk playing bandit at all?”

Duoluonuo gave a bitter laugh. “Who knows what goes on in that twisted head. Money’s never been his problem, yet he keeps running with White Mountain’s big-time robbers. Problem is, he’s a coward at heart—talks big, never finishes anything. Truth is, we partnered up once. One job. That’s how the bad blood started.”

He told the story without embellishment.

After the Wei family handed Kuai Liangshu back to the Alliance, his elder’s influence shielded him from real punishment. But he didn’t dare show his face in northern White Mountain anymore. He drifted south, into Spirit Wood Alliance territory. That’s where he and Duoluonuo crossed paths.

They’d teamed up to rob a passing rogue. Easy pickings. Among the loot: a silk scroll with a treasure map. Kuai Liangshu couldn’t outmuscle a Foundation cultivator; the map ended up in Duoluonuo’s hands. Grudge born.

This very Secluded Spring was the spot marked on the map. Duoluonuo had followed it here years ago, but the underwater array baffled him. No entry after all this time. So he’d camped beside the pool, built his illusion array, and chipped away at the puzzle.

Kuai Liangshu, working from memory of the scroll, eventually tracked the place too. They’d clashed several times.

Duoluonuo held the edge in raw power and experience, but he was alone. Kuai Liangshu had coin—hired muscle whenever he needed it. Stalemate.

“I deliberately misdirected them before—kept this spot hidden. Didn’t expect the bastard to sniff it out anyway. Look at him now—dragged half a dozen helpers. I need to lie low for a while. You’re coming with me.”

Duoluonuo didn’t hesitate. One arm scooped Qi Xiu up like a sack of rice. With a sweep of his sleeve he collected his camp junk, kicked off the ground, and shot skyward.

The moment they cleared the array boundary, the Foundation cultivator traveling with Kuai Liangshu spotted them. But the man made no move to intercept. The rest were all Qi Refining—couldn’t hope to catch up.

They simply watched as Duoluonuo carried Qi Xiu away into the deep green haze.