Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 156: Bloodbath on Green Stream Mountain

Green Stream Mountain earned its name from the jade-green rivulet that curled around its base like a protective ribbon. Once upon a time, the little sect perched here had known better days—grand halls, bustling disciples, a reputation that carried weight. Now it clung to the slopes of White Mountain like a half-forgotten relic, much like Chu Qin Sect had done not so long ago.

A Qi Refining late-stage cultivator came streaking back on his flying sword, muttering curses under his breath. “All the plum jobs go to someone else, and the shit work lands on me every damn time.”

He slowed at the edge of the mountain-protecting formation, eyes darting left and right out of habit. A pulse of spiritual power shot from his fingers into the array. “Open the gate already,” he barked. “They’re miles off—nothing to do with us!”

A narrow seam parted in the shimmering barrier. He leaned forward to slip through.

A chill kissed his waist. The world split in two. In the last heartbeat of life, he glimpsed a small black pavilion sailing back into the palm of a black-robed child.

Thanks to Chu Wuying’s Multi-Shadow Pavilion and its peerless concealment, the Chu Qin raiders had lurked mere li away. The instant presented itself. Bai Xiaosheng flicked his wrist; Moon Shadow Mysterious Ice Sword flashed once, and the scout’s body fell in separate pieces. At the same moment, Zhang Shishi hurled the Dao Earth Broad Life Tower. The pagoda jammed itself into the widening gap like a doorstop carved from divine iron.

Qi Xiu shot through first, second Moon Shadow Mysterious Ice Sword already in hand. Inside the barrier stood a child cultivator no older than Chu Wuying himself—round cheeks, porcelain skin, frozen in dumb shock. Qi Xiu’s stomach twisted. He hardened his heart and ended the boy with a single clean thrust.

The Know Geomancy talent unfurled across the peak, mapping every vein of spiritual energy. Qi Xiu pointed toward the richest node. “Kill.”

His people poured past like black water—faces wrapped in dark cloth, only crimson eyes showing, bright with murder.

“Enemy attack!”

The scream died with its owner.

The peak wasn’t large. They reached the heart of it in moments.

From the largest hall at the summit spilled a dozen cultivators of varying ages—clearly in the middle of some meeting. A few reacted fast, flinging talismans and treasures toward the sudden intruders.

The old Foundation Establishment cultivator who’d come out earlier roared, “Bold bastards!”

His fingers formed a seal. The mountain-protecting formation rumbled awake. Fist-sized hailstones roared down, weaving a deadly net around the attackers.

He never got the chance to do more. Twin Moon Shadow Mysterious Ice Swords—one from the front, one from behind—slammed into him at once. Gritting his teeth, he summoned his natal phantom: a jade tree that clinked like wind chimes, branches locking both blades in place. “Fall back to the Scripture Pavilion!” he shouted, voice cracking.

Bai Xiaosheng saw the first strike fail and unfolded his own natal gift—a vast painted scroll that bloomed overhead, catching the hail in swirling ink and frost. His sword whipped back, carving a deep furrow across the ground and cutting off the retreat of more than ten Qi Refining disciples heading for cover.

Bai Muhan and Wei Minniang moved in tandem. Twin second-tier Magnetic Light Emerald Hairpins pinned a late-stage Qi Refining enemy from both sides. Bai Muhan’s voice rang cool and clear: “Engage at will. Kill efficiently.”

Qin Weiyu dropped from the sky like a stone, landing hard on his backside. Behind him, the shadow of a black plant swayed. His natal Black Stem Marsh Orchid Array erupted—dark vines exploded across the earth, lashing out at anything alive. They worked better than anyone expected, coiling around the legs and arms of those who hadn’t escaped.

That single heartbeat of delay was enough. Higher-cultivation disciples tore free almost at once, only to find Chu Qin blades waiting. The four weakest never stood a chance. Yu Denou’s nails found them one by one—clean, merciless kills.

“Seven Qi Refining and one Foundation Establishment made it inside!”

Qi Xiu traded a flurry of blows with the jade-tree elder, but the Scripture Pavilion’s defensive array flared bright. The enemy vanished behind it. A quiet curse slipped out. No time to linger. He scooped up Chu Wuying, pushed Know Geomancy to its limit. After breaking through to Foundation Establishment, he could now faintly sense the nodes of lower-tier formations. Moon Shadow Mysterious Ice Sword plunged into the first eye he found; frost spider-webbed outward. The entire array groaned like old timber.

Guided by Qi Xiu’s directions, Bai Xiaosheng shattered another node. The two of them worked in grim silence, occasionally lashing out to aid their comrades still fighting in the open.

The courtyard had dissolved into chaos—steel on steel, screams, the wet sound of flesh parting.

Zhao Yao spread her arms like a hawk stooping on prey, twin short blades reversed in her grip. Her target’s flying sword came straight at her chest. She twisted—impossibly, unnaturally—and slipped past. Close enough to feel his panicked breath through his shield. Right hand: top-grade first-tier Armor-Shedding Blood Dagger, specialized in cracking defenses—one strike and the shield shattered. Before the sword could return, she spun. Left hand: mid-grade first-tier Ghostly Chill Ice Blade, cold enough to bite soul-deep. A gentle caress across the throat.

The head leapt free. Only frost rimed the stump—no blood at all.

The kill was textbook. Yet when the head rolled and came to rest staring up at her, the realization crashed in. Zhao Yao’s legs buckled. She retched onto the stone.

“Sister, watch out!”

Qin Sigao’s warning cut through the haze. His top-grade first-tier Spider Whisk lashed out, tangling an incoming flying sword. The two weapons locked, cultivators straining behind them.

Zhang Shishi had just pulped one opponent beneath, tower leaving nothing but red paste. Now he danced through the melee with a fresh shield, voice booming encouragement laced with spiritual power circulation tips, intercepting blows meant for Shen Chang and the others.

“They’re not that strong!” the elder inside the pavilion finally realized, watching his disciples die one by one. Grief cracked his face wide open. He charged out again with a handful of survivors.

Too late.

Bai Xiaosheng’s painted scroll finally tore under the endless hail. Blood sprayed from his mouth, but he forced his sword upward in a desperate arc that barely held the reinforcements back.

A clear chime—Wei Minniang’s inherited earrings brushing together—snapped Zhao Yao out of her stupor. She threw herself back into the fight.

Qi Xiu destroyed the seventh node. The mountain array gave one last wail. Hail ceased. Only lingering water-aspected spiritual energy drizzled down, rinsing blood into the cracks between stones.

Qi Xiu circled on his sword, planning to cut off the new group spilling from the pavilion.

“Sect Leader—behind you!”

A low-tier Qi Refining disciple charged mindlessly straight onto Qi Xiu’s blade. The body slid apart.

“Kun’er!”

The elder’s scream was inhuman. Jade tree held Bai Xiaosheng at bay while a jade ruyi scepter knocked Qi Xiu aside long enough to herd the remnants back inside.

Zhao Yao, Yu Denou, and Qin Sigao each claimed another life. Bai Muhan and Wei Minniang finally broke through their pinned opponent. When the dust settled, no one from Green Stream Sect remained outside the pavilion.

Not a single Chu Qin cultivator lost.

“Li Tan! Take the Wind Lizard Crane and patrol the perimeter.”

“Yu Jing, Yu Shang—strip the spiritual fields and storehouses.”

“Shen Chang—drive all mortals down the mountain.”

“Sect Leader, Father—we’ll smash the Scripture Pavilion together!”

Bai Xiaosheng slashed the barrier a few more times, then called out, voice tight: “This array is solid. Do we stay or go?”

The words struck Qi Xiu like cold iron. Years ago, his own people had huddled inside their Scripture Pavilion while Huang Shao and the others battered at the door. Greed had kept the attackers there long enough for Chu Qin to turn the tables. Now the roles were reversed. He had become the very scum of White Mountain he once despised.

Signal flares whooshed skyward from the pavilion—too late, far too late.

Qi Xiu’s heart wavered. Treasure Sight swept the peak; most of the sect’s wealth was locked inside that building. Blood Premonition stayed silent. Before Foundation Establishment he would have withdrawn. Now greed won.

“Break it open,” he said grimly. “Then we leave.”

Twin Moon Shadow swords, Zhang Shishi’s heavy tower, every magic treasure they owned—relentless bombardment shook the pavilion for hours. They swallowed Return Qi Pills by the handful. Even the scavengers rotated in to help. Exhaustion clawed at everyone except Qi Xiu. Dawn painted the horizon before the array finally sighed and died with a dull pop.

Zhang Shishi’s tower punched through the outer wall.

Inside: seven or eight Qi Refining corpses reduced to husks by their own formation. The elder lay draped across the core, barely breathing.

The sight dragged old ghosts across Qi Xiu’s mind. He waved a tired hand. “Clean it up.”

Bai Xiaosheng ended the elder’s suffering with one merciful stroke, then directed the others in looting—books, storage bags, artifacts. He muttered as he sorted: “This treatise is pure Confucian commentary—why shelve it with Daoist canons? Idiots… oh, this one’s a lone copy… wait, isn’t this the complete set from that All-Knowing Elder? They actually collected them all.”

Qi Xiu let them work, talents sweeping for anything missed. A sudden tug pulled him and Zhang Shishi around to the back slope. Together they blasted apart a small, cunning illusion array that had nearly fooled even his gifts.

Within stood a short, stout tree bathed in azure light—second-tier Azure Jade Spirit Tree, at least five hundred years old. Beneath its roots huddled a mortal woman clutching a sleeping infant. When the array fell, she hugged the child tighter, turned her face away, trembling.

Zhang Shishi’s bloodshot eyes flicked to Qi Xiu. His sword hand tightened—hesitation plain.

Qi Xiu barely noticed. “Leave them. This tree—five centuries at least. Transplant it if we can. Even if it dies, the materials alone are worth hundreds of third-tier spirit stones. All our debts, gone.” He rubbed his hands, grinning despite himself. “No wealth without blood, no fat horse without night grass—the ancients weren’t wrong.”

The woman turned. Tears carved clean tracks through the dirt on her cheeks. She dropped to her knees.

“Immortal masters…”

Qi Xiu’s smile faltered. After slaughtering her entire sect, facing her felt… awkward.

“What is it?”

“You found this place. My husband… everyone… they’re gone, aren’t they?”

Her voice was steady, educated—someone who had grown up inside sect walls. She lifted the infant with shaking arms.

“This child was examined by a passing fate-reader at birth. He has Spiritual Roots. Our sect fell to you—that’s White Mountain law. I know my life is forfeit. But please… spare him. Take him back, raise him. When he’s older he can serve your sect. He’s too little to remember any of this.”

“Just let him grow up safe. Whether he cultivates or not… doesn’t matter.”

She bowed her head, then hurled herself at the unyielding trunk of the spirit tree.

Qi Xiu started forward—he wasn’t that kind of monster—but Zhang Shishi moved faster, catching her before impact. Blood poured from her forehead anyway. Life ebbed.

“Senior Brother…”

Zhang Shishi’s voice was rough. “One last time I’ll call you that. I’ve sired plenty of children in my life, but never one with true immortal potential—like Zhan Chou had. You know Zhan Yuan died, yet that knot still sits in my heart. He married a Foundation Establishment cultivator’s daughter, reached the fifth layer of Qi Refining, and his son had a Single Spiritual Root. I… I always fell short.”

Qi Xiu looked at the man past forty, eyes earnest beneath the black cloth.

“Your obsession…”

He sighed. “Fine. Take the child. Raise him yourself.”

Zhang Shishi bowed his head, cradling the infant close.