novelraw Chapter 152: A Sloppy, Half-Baked Verdict
Chapter 152: A Sloppy, Half-Baked Verdict
Three days later. Early morning.
Qi Xiu stepped out of the temporary quarters looking every inch the dignified immortal—robe immaculate, expression serene, radiating the quiet satisfaction of a man who had just gotten very lucky the night before. Yu Deno had been pacing outside, impatience written in every line of his aging face. The old man hurried forward, pressing two tokens into Qi Xiu’s hand.
“Sect Leader, the Wei clan sent an escort. These are Elder Council passes. Only cultivators carrying them can cross back north from the southern line under Wei supervision.”
Qi Xiu glanced at the tokens—simple jade plaques etched with special seals and serial numbers. Nothing fancy. He raised an eyebrow. “Two?”
“Yes.” Yu Deno nodded. “Presumably one for you and one for Min-niang.”
Qi Xiu thought back to the marathon of passion that had kept them up half the night. A faint, private smile tugged at his mouth. “Min-niang’s exhausted after these past months. Let her rest. You’ll come with me.”
Yu Deno’s wrinkled face immediately split into that knowing, lecherous grin—the universal “I get it” smirk of old rogues everywhere. Qi Xiu pretended not to notice, simply turned and boarded the Wei clan beast ship that waited to ferry them.
“I made some inquiries,” Yu Deno said as the ship lifted off. “The elder on duty today is Wei Yong. He’s the most likely in Wei Xuan’s faction to form a Golden Core anytime soon. Fiercely protective of his own. This could get prickly.”
By the time they reached Mountain Capital, they were ushered into the Guest Welcoming Pavilion to wait—an honor Qi Xiu would never have received before Foundation Establishment. Yu Deno slipped out for a quick circuit of the grounds, came back with the latest gossip, and laid it out in low tones.
“Doesn’t matter,” Qi Xiu said, standing at the railing and gazing into the distance. “Rumors and shadows. We’ll deal with whatever comes.”
Down below, another beast ship had just landed. Wei clan cultivators were unloading body after body—each wrapped in plain white cloth. Waiting families surged forward in small, desperate knots, searching faces, then collapsing into wails when recognition hit.
Yu Deno followed his gaze. “The Great Zhou Academy’s clan system ties an entire family’s—hell, an entire country’s—honor and survival to its cultivators. One ascends, the whole kennel rises with him. One dies… everything crumbles.”
The last corpse was carried off. Someone started a slow, mournful ballad; the wind carried fragments into their ears.
“Life is suffering, the road stretches long,
drunk on dreams we stand in the martial world.
Death is suffering, yet we charge ahead,
sword-shadows and blade-lights return to dust.
Gathering is suffering, pouring out true feelings,
only in terror do we finally understand.
Parting is suffering—ah, parting is suffering,
soul departs and returns, dawn after dawn, dusk after dusk…”
The melody curled around them, soft and piercing. Both men fell silent, letting the weight settle.
Not long after, a pavilion attendant came to fetch them. They followed him into a wide hall.
Seven meditation cushions lined the front. Only the second from the left was occupied—by a loose-haired, pale-browed middle-aged Foundation Establishment cultivator who radiated the quiet bookishness of a scholar. Wei Yong. He looked drained, eyes fixed vacantly on the sky outside, lost in whatever thoughts chewed at him.
No need for kowtows between equals. Qi Xiu stepped forward, cupped his hands, and gave his name clearly.
Wei Yong’s brows twitched. He finally looked over, produced a ledger from his sleeve, flipped it open, and scanned a page. “According to this record, Chu Qin Sect Leader Qi Xiu is at the fifth layer of Qi Refining.”
His voice was smooth, lazy, almost musical—yet those half-lidded eyes never quite lifted. The disrespect was casual, practiced.
Qi Xiu kept his tone even. “That was when we first migrated here. I broke through to Foundation Establishment a few days ago.”
“Oh?” Wei Yong finally gave him a proper once-over—then the lids drooped again. “Min-niang married well, it seems. We have no proof linking you to Wan’er’s death, and right now the clan has bigger problems. I’m not in the mood to dig. But Wan’er’s two grandsons are jointly accusing you and Min-niang of misappropriating her estate. Your response?”
“Nonsense.”
Qi Xiu didn’t bother dressing it up.
“I figured as much.” Wei Yong sighed, as though the whole affair bored him. “Still, those brothers lost their biggest backer the day Wan’er left to wander. Life’s been hard for them ever since. If they keep pushing, it’ll look bad for everyone. Why not offer them some compensation—call it family support—and close the matter?”
*What a masterclass in muddling through,* Qi Xiu thought. Still, paying to bury the earrings issue suited him fine. “If it’s within our means and ends the harassment, sure.”
“Naturally.” Wei Yong waved a hand.
“How much are we talking?”
Wei Yong didn’t answer. Instead he beckoned toward the door. Two young Qi Refining cultivators—barely twenty, clean-cut, polite to the point of rehearsed deference—were ushered in. Nothing about them screamed “shameless extortionists.” They must have been waiting just outside.
“You two negotiate,” Wei Yong said, then glanced at the kneeling pair.
The older brother bowed respectfully. “As Elder knows, we are Grandmother’s direct line. All her lifetime savings—”
“I don’t have time for the sob story. Just name the number.”
The brothers exchanged a quick look. The elder spoke: “At least a hundred third-tier spirit stones.”
Qi Xiu almost laughed, thinking he’d misheard. Behind him, Yu Deno exploded.
“A hundred third-tier?! Do you have any idea how many years Chu Qin would have to bleed to scrape that together?!”
The younger brother snapped back without hesitation: “We did our homework. Those Ice Chalice Blossoms sitting in your Black River Market shop alone are worth dozens. Don’t think we’re easy marks.”
He didn’t even pretend to argue inheritance anymore. Pure shakedown. The mask had dropped.
Qi Xiu cleared his throat, cutting off the brewing shouting match. “That number is impossible. Elder, please speak fairly.”
Wei Yong tilted his head, considering. “Fine. Eighty third-tier total. Min-niang may have married out, but she still called Wan’er ‘Aunt.’ She gets a share. Chu Qin pays: forty for each brother, twenty for her. Spread over ten years. Done.”
He was already waving them off.
Qi Xiu felt his Dao Heart waver for the first time since breakthrough. This wasn’t negotiation; it was daylight robbery. Ten years of careful accumulation—spirit fields, Mo Jianxin’s forging, Li Tan’s beast-ship transport, Black River Market profits—might net them barely over a hundred third-tier in total, and that didn’t account for salaries, upkeep, emergencies.
He forced calm. “Chu Qin is a small sect. Eighty is still beyond us. Elder, reconsider.”
Wei Yong’s gaze turned cold. He met Qi Xiu’s eyes without blinking. “This is my ruling. And it is final.”
Qi Xiu had just broken through—he was done being pushed around. He stared straight back, aura unflinching. “War rages everywhere. The Wei clan needs every able body. You hand down a verdict this sloppy—aren’t you afraid it’ll chill the hearts of your allies?”
Wei Yong snorted. “Chill them, then. What are you going to do about it? Eighty third-tier. Ten years. Not one stone less.”
“You—”
Qi Xiu started forward. Yu Deno’s hand clamped onto his robe hem like iron, yanking him back. Reason flooded in. He swallowed the rage, bowed stiffly. “Since that’s your word, I have nothing more to say. Farewell.”
He turned on his heel and strode out, Yu Deno hurrying behind.
“Thank you, Martial Uncle!”
“Thank you, Martial Uncle!”
The two brothers practically sang with joy, so giddy they nearly fainted. For cultivators of their level and character, that windfall was more money than they’d ever see in a lifetime.
Wei Yong watched them with open disgust. His voice dripped acid. “Now that you’ve got this windfall, you’d better pull your weight for the clan. The front at Heaven-Attraction Mountain is desperate for scouts. You two leave immediately.”
“W-wait—Martial Uncle, our cultivation is low, we’re really not suited for vanguard duty—”
Wei Yong ignored them. He flicked his sleeve toward the door. “Someone—escort them on their way.”
Disciples entered and dragged the pair out—two boys who had just ridden the highest high and lowest low in minutes, now limp as rags.
…
Back at Tiger Head Mountain, Qi Xiu relayed Wei Yong’s verdict. The hall erupted—curses, shouts, outrage. The noise grated on him. He retreated to the sleeping quarters.
Min-niang slipped in soon after and threw herself into his arms, sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
“It’s not on you.” Seeing her like this melted most of his anger. He wiped her tears gently. “The Wei clan went too far this time. But our territory came from them. You came from them. If we tally the ledger from the beginning—I’m the one who profited. You married into the Qi family. You don’t owe your natal clan guilt for their greed. We’ve weathered worse storms than this. I’ll handle it.”
He coaxed and murmured until she finally smiled through the tears, nestling closer, turning coy. “You said you profited. So tell me—how much am I worth in spirit stones?”
Qi Xiu frowned, pretending to count on his fingers, muttering calculations with exaggerated gravity. “Twenty-seven. Not a stone more.”
“You—! That’s all I’m worth?!”
She pounded his chest in mock fury, laughing despite herself.
He pulled her tight, lips brushing her ear. “But no one—not for ten thousand, not for a billion—could ever make me trade.”
They held each other’s gaze. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered.
The air thickened, promising another stolen afternoon—until Qi Xiu sensed someone approaching from outside. A moment later Bai Xiaosheng’s voice came, unusually grave.
“Sect Leader Qi. Everyone’s gathered in the main hall. They need you for council.”
Min-niang’s eyes filled with worry. She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.
Qi Xiu understood perfectly.
He took both her hands in his. No words were necessary.