Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 149: Seclusion — Charging Toward Foundation Establishment

Immortal Grove Hollow, main hall.

All the usual tables and chairs had been cleared away.

Qi Xiu sat cross-legged in the very center, Daoist robe faintly billowing. Wisps of spiritual energy still leaked from him now and then, drifting like faint smoke. His gaze rested gently on the disciples kneeling before him.

“Word has already gone out to Black River by messenger crow,” Bai Muhan reported quietly from the head of the line. “Yu Deno has gone after Min-niang. Everyone else is present.”

Qi Xiu nodded once. “This breakthrough came too strangely, too suddenly. We can’t wait for them to return from Black River. Send another message—tell Jianxin and Weiyu not to stir. Keep the gates secure, cultivate quietly, and wait for Min-niang. That’s all.”

“Yes.” Bai Muhan acknowledged, then continued, “All the items needed for Foundation Establishment were prepared years ago, back when you first reached the tenth layer of Qi Refining. Nothing more needs adding. Still… you might consider renting one of the cave abodes in Qi Nan City that are leased to rogue cultivators. They’re fourth-tier spirit veins—not as convenient as home, but far superior to what we have here. Or we could ask the Wei family. The spirit lands inside Mountain Capital are much richer than Immortal Grove. They would probably be happy to extend the courtesy.”

“No need.” Qi Xiu waved the suggestion away. “This step is life or death. If I fall, I fall on Chu Qin soil. No more discussion.”

“…Understood.”

Bai Muhan’s nose stung. She turned her face aside, sleeve rising to hide the quick swipe at her eyes.

Bai Xiaosheng—uncharacteristically solemn today—had even donned the full scarlet robe of Chu Qin for once. He stood behind Qi Xiu, channeling a steady thread of mana to suppress the leaking spiritual energy, and murmured, “Time is short. Handle what needs handling.”

Qi Xiu exhaled slowly.

He knew Bai Xiaosheng was right. If he didn’t sink into deep meditation before his spiritual energy completely dispersed, not only would Foundation Establishment be impossible—his entire cultivation might collapse. The clock was ticking.

He straightened, expression turning grave, and addressed them all.

“This attempt at Foundation Establishment—success or failure—is unknown. If something goes wrong… if I fall… that is simply fate. There’s no one to blame. Since that’s the case, let’s settle my affairs now, so the sect doesn’t descend into chaos later.”

A soft sob escaped little Luo Du. The others couldn’t hold back either—quiet sniffles spread through the hall like ripples.

Qi Xiu forced a wry smile and scolded lightly, “This is supposed to be a joyous occasion for your sect leader. What are you all crying for? Don’t tell me none of you have faith in me.”

“No—no, that’s not it…”

The disciples mumbled denials in ragged unison, trying to force smiles. To Qi Xiu those strained expressions looked more heartbreaking than tears.

“First—if I die, Bai Muhan will succeed as sect leader. Any objections?”

He spoke the successor’s name clearly, eyes deliberately seeking out Zhang Shishi.

Zhang Shishi’s eyes were already red. Meeting his senior brother’s gaze, he understood the unspoken worry at once. He bowed deeply, leading the rest in a firm chorus:

“We have no objections.”

“Good.”

Relief eased Qi Xiu’s shoulders. He turned to Bai Muhan.

“You’re more meticulous than I am. What else needs settling? Speak plainly—I’ll decide.”

Bai Muhan steadied her voice. “These years everyone has followed the rules. There aren’t many major changes needed. The only pressing matter is the inner disciples. Several of the younger generation have outstanding talent and progress. It would be best to formally name them now.”

Qi Xiu understood.

Inner disciple status carried heavy weight: better resources in the coming years, eligibility to become an elder decades later, even the standing of their natal families. He had delayed the decision again and again, reluctant to play favorites.

Bai Muhan saw clearly: if he truly fell, leaving the matter unresolved would only tie her hands later. Better to settle it while his word still carried absolute weight.

His gaze passed slowly over the candidates.

Chu Wuying—ten years old. Single innate destiny, single spiritual root. One of the infants Qi Xiu and Chu Duo had stolen together from deep in White Mountain, later claimed by Southern Chu Sect as a descendant of the late Golden Core Chu Huixin, then quietly transferred to Chu Qin. Like Qi Xiu and Zhang Shishi, his innate destiny was an unknown black-and-white mass—a crippled root. Chu Duo had specially instructed Qi Xiu to pass on the secret arts “See One’s Own Heart” and “Seek Advantage, Avoid Calamity.” Through substitution, his destiny became the treasured artifact Myriad Shadows Pavilion, paired with the first-tier Multi-Shadow Pavilion—perfect synergy. His progress had been steady; at ten he had already crossed the first Qi Refining threshold and reached the third layer.

Chu Wuying had been raised as an orphan. Qi Xiu, buried in cultivation, sect affairs, the endless hunt for Foundation Establishment, and the demands of wives and concubines, had never been able to give him full attention. The boy had grown quiet, resolute, sparing with words—perhaps a touch withdrawn and insecure. Yet he was Qi Xiu’s true successor in every sense that mattered: nominally of exalted Southern Chu lineage, and carrying the unspoken guilt Qi Xiu felt toward him. The inner disciple slot was his by right.

“Chu Wuying—promoted to inner disciple.”

No one was surprised. No one objected. Chu Wuying crawled forward on his knees, accepted the inner disciple token from Bai Muhan with both hands, kowtowed deeply to Qi Xiu, and said only, “Thank you, sect leader senior brother.” Then he withdrew without another word.

Qin Sizhao—ten years old. Dual innate destinies, single artifact spiritual root. Direct line descendant of Chu Qin’s founding ancestor Qin Lie’er through Qin Ji; mother from the beast-taming Zhao clan. The name Sizhao itself was Qin Ji’s lingering remembrance of his lost wife. The boy even looked like his father in youth—tall, handsome, carrying an innate air of nobility.

His family background made Qi Xiu, Zhang Shishi, and even Bai Muhan wary. But Qin Ji had been confined under punishment since before the boy was born; Sizhao had grown up entirely within the sect gates, never really knowing his father. His temperament was nothing like Qin Ji’s—instead gentle, refined, with a subtle cunning. Even at his age, conversation with him felt like standing in warm spring sunlight. He took after his master Bai Xiaosheng in every way, and Bai Xiaosheng doted on him accordingly. Everyone in the sect liked him.

Though he had two innate destinies to Chu Wuying’s one, neither required substitution. His were the combat-oriented Seven Star Spirit Sword and Seven Radiance Mysterious Blade—born killers. Matching first-tier artifacts were common and easy to obtain. Same third layer of Qi Refining. The inner disciple position was secure.

“Qin Sizhao—promoted to inner disciple.”

Qin Sizhao stepped forward, received the token, kowtowed, and said clearly, “Thank you, sect leader senior brother. May you establish your Foundation soon and walk the Great Path to completion.” Then he withdrew.

Zhanqiu—six years old. Single innate destiny, single water spiritual root. Son of Zhan Yuan; Bai Muhan his mother; Bai Xiaosheng his grandfather. Even setting aside blood ties, the debt Qi Xiu owed Zhan Yuan would have swayed the decision. Currently only first layer of Qi Refining—just past initiation, not yet over the first threshold. Talent and fortune still unproven. But he was young. His destiny Bottle-Held Water paired perfectly with the second-tier Obsidian Jade Purifying Vase. With mother and grandfather fully supporting him, progress would come.

“Zhanqiu—promoted to inner disciple.”

The little boy imitated his seniors, stepped forward, took the token from his mother’s hand, kowtowed properly, and piped in a milky voice, “Thank you, sect leader senior brother.” Under the warm gazes of his family, he retreated.

Qi Xiu swept his eyes over the rest.

The others had far more mixed destinies and roots. Zhang Shishi possessed a single innate destiny, but without Chu Duo’s permission he could never transmit Chu Huixin’s secret arts; his crippled destiny remained incurable. He had stagnated at fifth layer Qi Refining for years. He Yu’s departure had crushed him further—ambition worn away by time and disappointment.

Qin Siguo—fifteen, three innate destinies, dual spiritual roots. Immortal Grove Qin branch. His roots and destinies were messier than the first three, but his comprehension and diligence were top-tier. Already fourth layer Qi Refining—matching He Yu’s old pace. Among the younger generation he carried the most authentic Daoist bearing: clear-featured, calm, at ease in his own skin. His destinies were all suited to both combat and cultivation. Promoting him would have been reasonable.

Qi Xiu pondered long.

In the end he shook his head inwardly. One more Qin clan child in the inner sect felt like tempting fate.

Aloud he declared, “Just these three.”

He gave the children a few words of advice—mutual support, no arrogance, no bullying fellow disciples—then sealed the matter.

Bai Muhan raised a few more sect affairs. Qi Xiu settled each one.

Under Bai Xiaosheng’s increasingly urgent reminders, he finally rose and walked toward the waiting thatched study.

…

“Once I enter seclusion, keep the sect outwardly relaxed but internally on high alert. The mountain-protecting grand formation stays fully active—no slack.”

“Shen Chang—you and Yu Deno keep up the usual diplomatic duties. Greet guests, see them off, visit neighboring cultivator families and sects as normal. But lips sealed—no one breathes a word that I’ve gone into seclusion to attempt Foundation Establishment. The old man loves his wine and his tongue slips easily. Watch him closely.”

“Kan Qin—help Min-niang take care of Yue’er…”

He settled into the prepared spot inside the study and—despite Bai Xiaosheng’s repeated warnings—began rattling off trivial instructions to everyone outside the door.

Only when he caught sight of Min-niang running toward him did he stop.

He smiled at his wife, nodded once, and drank in the sight of her—perhaps for the last time. Tears already streaming down her peerless face, she rushed toward the study.

In the instant before she reached the threshold, Qi Xiu steeled himself. With a sharp gesture he sealed the entrance from within.

The “See One’s Own Heart” talent surged to life, ruthlessly quieting every attachment to the mortal world.

He looked slowly around.

Arrays to assist cultivation, fasting pills, emergency talismans—everything a sect could provide lay ready. This was the gulf between sect disciples and rogue cultivators. Twenty hard years of scraping, bleeding, compromising—this small mountain of resources was the proof.

A faint smile touched his lips.

From his robes he drew the Foundation Establishment Pill he had bartered for long ago in Clear River Market.

The little pill had traveled with him—from Clear River Market, to Chu Qin Mountain, to Black River Peak, to Immortal Grove Hollow. From age thirty to forty to fifty. Time flowed on; the pill’s potency remained undiminished. Only the man who carried it had aged, cultivation inching upward, heart scarred by partings, death, love, hatred, longing, hope—all of it quietly grinding away at the innocence he once carried.

His throat tightened.

He tossed the pill into his mouth.

As his eyes closed, a single clear tear slipped down his cheek.

Then silence.

Deep meditation began.

The journey toward Foundation Establishment commenced.