Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 142: Buyout and Bargain

Duoluonuo didn’t push his luck. He dropped onto a distant peak, far enough that the wind swallowed any sound from the secluded spring. Eyes narrowed, he channeled Qi to sharpen his vision and watched.

He made no effort to hide. Down below, Kuai Liangshu spotted the two silhouettes instantly. His mouth opened in a furious rant—words lost to distance, but the venom carried. He wheeled on the Foundation cultivator he’d hired, demanding to know why the man hadn’t given chase. Whatever the reply was, it deflated him fast. Shoulders slumped, he turned back to bark orders at his hired hands: set watch, post sentries. Then he hauled out crates of materials and started directing the setup of a defensive array. The framework rose with practiced speed—less than half an hour and the outline already looked viciously solid.

Duoluonuo’s frown deepened. His face darkened by degrees.

“The Artifact & Talisman Alliance built its name on artifacts and talismans. Arrays are another one of their strong suits. Once that thing’s complete… we’re locked out for good.”

He spoke low, knowing Qi Xiu was listening.

Qi Xiu sighed. His cultivation was too shallow to make out the fine details at this range, but his innate talents—Wind-and-Water Observation and Treasure Glow Sight—stirred quietly. Faint spiritual radiance was already blooming around the spring. Second-tier at minimum. He glanced up at Duoluonuo, eyes pleading. On his own? Forget getting anywhere near that water again.

Duoluonuo rubbed his hands together, paced a tight circle. “No way around it. Kuai Liangshu came loaded for bear this time. The spring’s small, defenses tight. We… we pull back. For now.”

The words tasted like bile. He looked at Qi Xiu—disappointment plain on both sides.

“I’ll drop you at the edge of the deep mountains. We part ways here.”

Qi Xiu’s stomach twisted harder than Duoluonuo’s. The older man was only losing a shot at buried treasure and years of wasted effort. For Qi Xiu, that spring was tied directly to his Foundation chance—the single thread heaven had dangled in front of him after forty-nine grinding years. He couldn’t just walk.

His eyes darted. He didn’t budge.

“Hm?” Duoluonuo’s gaze sharpened. One meaty hand shot out and clamped around Qi Xiu’s throat. “You didn’t come here just to scrape by, did you? Speak.”

“Cough—cough—”

Cheeks still swollen from earlier slaps, Qi Xiu had almost gotten used to the man’s hair-trigger violence. Almost. He wheezed out the truth: the secluded spring land, the heavenly nudge, how his Foundation hinged on whatever lay beneath that dark water.

Duoluonuo released him with a rough shove. Qi Xiu hit the dirt.

“You slippery little bird. Took long enough to get one honest sentence out of you.” He loomed overhead. “Anything else you’re hiding?”

“Nothing. Really.”

Decades as sect leader had taught Qi Xiu when to swallow pride. With a Foundation cultivator’s fingers around your windpipe, dignity was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He kept his tone soft, careful.

Duoluonuo snorted. “Fair enough. In the deep mountains you don’t spill your guts to anyone. Three parts truth, seven parts shadow—that’s survival. I won’t fault you for it.”

Just like that the anger vanished. He hauled Qi Xiu up, dusted him off like nothing had happened. “So you don’t want to leave. Got a plan?”

“What plan could I possibly have?” Qi Xiu muttered, mostly to himself. But he was already turning it over—racking his brain, refusing to accept defeat.

Duoluonuo didn’t press. He paced too, glancing back toward the spring every few minutes to make sure Kuai Liangshu’s crew hadn’t moved.

Then Qi Xiu’s head snapped up.

“I’ve got something.”

“Oh?” Duoluonuo leaned in fast. “Spit it out.”

Qi Xiu recounted the snatch of conversation he’d overheard in Bosen City—Kuai Liangshu haggling with that Foundation hireling. “The man was hired in the city. White Mountain cultivators… we chase profit over loyalty.” He shot Duoluonuo a quick glance. No explosion. Good. “If we buy him out, two Foundation cultivators against a handful of Qi Refining and whatever array they’ve half-built? We walk right in.”

“Buy him…”

Duoluonuo stroked his beard, thinking aloud. “What if they signed a soul contract?”

Qi Xiu gave a dry laugh and waved the worry away. “With Kuai Liangshu’s personality and wallet? He’d never shell out for soul contracts.”

He remembered the steep price Zhan Yuan and Duoluo Xin had paid just for the parchment. Kuai Liangshu might have a Golden Core uncle, but years of playing bandit hadn’t made him rich. “He’s been scrapping with you for ages on a Qi Refining budget. Without the promise of that hidden vault, he probably couldn’t even afford to hire Foundation muscle.”

“That’s the angle!” Duoluonuo slapped his thigh. “Fine. I’ll reach out. Let’s see if the bait takes.”

He didn’t waste time. A talisman flicked from his sleeve. Fingers danced through seals. The paper flared and folded itself into a small spirit beast—scaled like a pangolin, sleek and quick. It wriggled once, then shot into the earth, tunneling toward the spring.

Next Duoluonuo drew his flying sword and carved a crude cave out of the mountainside. The two of them ducked inside to wait.

The message was sent. Whether the man bit was out of their hands. A Foundation-Qi Refining Perfection duo against another Foundation, seven or eight Qi Refining, and a growing defensive array? Charging in blind was suicide.

They spent the rest of the night hashing out costs, haggling over how much each would contribute. Duoluonuo would shoulder most—obviously—but Qi Xiu would empty his pouch too. Not that he had much choice; the storage bag was already in Duoluonuo’s hands.

Halfway through the dark hours Duoluonuo’s eyes flashed. He surged to his feet.

“He’s here.”

Qi Xiu scrambled after him. Outside the cave mouth, the same Foundation cultivator from Kuai Liangshu’s group stood waiting—face blank, posture stiff.

Duoluonuo laughed and strode forward. “Fellow Daoist keeps his word. My respects.”

The man had an unremarkable face and a permanent scowl. Three-white eyes—mostly sclera—gave him a cold, unsettling stare. He didn’t return the greeting. Just studied them both like meat on a hook.

“Getting away from them wasn’t easy. Cut the pleasantries. We’re all here for profit. Name your price.”

His tone grated, but the words lit hope in both listeners. They exchanged a quick look—game on.

Duoluonuo stepped up to bargain.

Just as Qi Xiu predicted: the pay Kuai Liangshu offered was standard market rate for a Foundation escort—nothing extravagant. Duoluonuo dumped a fat pile of Spirit Stones and miscellaneous goods on the table. The man folded fast.

Per their earlier agreement, Qi Xiu kicked in his share too. Everything he had left. The pouch had already changed owners; protest wasn’t an option.

“Fifty-fifty on the vault?”

“Fifty-fifty and I’m here talking to you why? Eighty-twenty.”

“Eighty-twenty and I walk. No point wasting breath on you.”

“Heh. I’m not just breaking contract—I’m clearing the path for you two. Half the take? You think that’s realistic?”

They went back and forth on the split. Voices rose, tempers flared, neither giving ground.

Finally the three-white-eyed man jabbed a finger at Qi Xiu. “What about the Qi Refining kid? Does he get a cut?”

“No share for him.”

Duoluonuo answered without hesitation. Qi Xiu was only here for his Foundation chance. Treasure? Forget it.

“Fine.” The man’s voice dropped. “Sixty-five for me. Thirty-five for you. Take it or leave it. Final offer.”

Duoluonuo stared at the ground for a long beat. Teeth ground together.

“Deal. But you go back right now. Kill the Qi Refining lackeys. Wreck their array. Show good faith. We don’t trust you otherwise.”

The three-white-eyed man gave a cold chuckle. “Obviously. If I’m doing this, I’ll do it clean. Relax.”

Two Foundation cultivators settled the fates of everyone still at the spring in under a minute. Somewhere in the distance, Kuai Liangshu and his hired hands were probably still dreaming of riches, oblivious that their time had just run out.