Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 167 A Brief Rest at Cool Cascade

The summer sun blazed down, relentless and scorching. Cicadas clung to branches, their calls dragging out in lazy drones. Leaves curled in on themselves, as if trying to hide from the heat. The parched earth split open in wide fissures—deep enough to swallow a fist. Somewhere nearby, a dog panted under the shade of a tree, tongue lolling, lost in exhausted sleep.

Yet deep in the distant mountains, one spot stayed mercifully cool. A towering peak blocked the worst of the midsummer glare. At the edge of a sheer cliff atop that mountain, a teenage boy stood naked, long hair loose down his back. His skin was dark from the sun, body built like a young calf—sturdy, all muscle and no fat. His features were plain, but something in the set of his jaw gave him a rugged, commanding look.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down. “Clear out! I’m jumping!”

Without waiting for an answer, he swung his arms, gauged the drop, took a few running steps—and leaped.

A grown man’s voice rose from below, half-scolding, half-amused. “Qin Hu, watch yourself! Don’t land on anybody!”

The warning was still hanging in the air when—boom!—the boy hit the water. A column of spray shot up ten feet high, followed by a burst of laughter from the men already swimming.

Nearly half a year had passed since the third great battle for Tianyin Mountain—or, as some called it, the Loose Cultivator Uprising. The Chu Qin Sect had finally begun to heal. With another sweltering summer upon them, staying cooped up inside the sect’s eternally temperate grounds felt stifling. Qi Xiu decided to bring family and disciples out for a day trip to one of their own territories: Cool Cascade, a scenic retreat perfect for escaping the heat.

Jagged cliffs, roaring waterfalls, clear springs, and winding streams—this whole stretch of mountain beauty had been part of the Wei Family’s postwar gift to the Chu Qin Sect. Not just the cascade itself, but an entire expansion of the sect’s holdings around Xianlin Basin. The territory now sprawled outward in the rough shape of the character 亚, with six long spurs stretching like tentacles. Besides Cool Cascade, the rewards included a small spirit mine, a modest spirit herb peak, and over two thousand mortal subjects. Generous, no doubt. But the price had been steep: more than a thousand mortal lives from Xianlin alone. Eight hundred slaughtered outright outside the sect gates. Five hundred more cut down in the chaos of looting and fire when loose cultivators ran rampant.

“This time around, the collateral clans took the heaviest losses,” an elderly man remarked, voice low as he soaked in a quiet pool away from the waterfall’s roar. “Families like mine—gates shattered, survivors too afraid to return from Black River Market—we all lost our spirit lands entirely. The Wei Family rewarded their direct kin with prime postings. Four of them right around Xianlin, boxed in neatly by the six spurs of your territory. The intent there… hard to read. Meanwhile, the Mu Family walked away with vast northern tracts. Four Foundation Establishment cultivators in one clan now. Their influence is rising fast. Back in the day, even the old Mountain Capital Siwen Clan only boasted a single Golden Core and five Foundation Establishment.”

The old man, Mao Maolin, had sharp features and the poised bearing of a late-stage Qi Refining cultivator. When his Mao Clan was wiped out, he’d been away on business in Mountain Capital and escaped the massacre. Afterward, he inherited only relics, wisely declined any claim to the clan’s former lands, and turned down recruitment offers from the Wei Family and others. Instead, he led a thousand surviving Mao mortals straight to the Chu Qin Sect.

Qi Xiu gave a mild smile. “Still saying ‘your sect’ and ‘your territory’? Time to start saying ‘our.’”

Mao Maolin chuckled, then nodded. “Fair enough. Your—our—sect may be small now, just one Foundation Establishment and most disciples still struggling past the second Qi Refining bottleneck. But the Wei Family already handed over all this land, plus a mine and herb peak. That’s more than most would dare accept. An innocent child can still be guilty of carrying jade.”

Qi Xiu’s gaze drifted to the cluster of Chu Qin youths laughing and splashing beneath the falls. “Long-term prospects matter more. That’s what I saw in… our sect too.”

Mao Maolin’s words warmed him. The current crop of teenagers really were exceptional—temperament, willpower, aptitude, comprehension—all top-notch. Yet after the last war, the three most promising outer disciples—Zhao Yao, Qin Siguo, Mo Jianxin—had all stalled before the fifth layer of Qi Refining. Meanwhile, dull, plodding Qin Weiyu had somehow stumbled through the second bottleneck and reached the sixth layer. Talent was vital, but effort and luck could outweigh it.

His eyes settled on Qin Siguo, forcing a laugh with the others nearby. The young man’s brows were knotted, gloom hard to hide. The Xianlin Qin branch had lived closest to the sect gates; White Mountain loose cultivators had nearly exterminated them. Qin Siguo’s own cultivation refused to budge. For half a year he’d been withdrawn, joyless.

Part of the reason Qi Xiu organized this outing was to lift the boy’s spirits.

“The Wei Family won this round only because that late-Golden Core equivalent flood dragon detonated itself,” Mao Maolin went on. “It killed Lu Shiluo and Nan Kun, drove off the green-robed elder, and let them retake Tianyin Mountain. Without the dragon now… trouble will keep coming.”

Qi Xiu rubbed his temple. After the uprising, frightened minor sects and loose cultivators had flocked to the Artifact Talisman Alliance for protection. The green-robed elder—a late Golden Core cultivator—had even relocated to the Lu Family’s ancestral peak. The Alliance’s strength had grown, not shrunk. The Wei Family was down to a single elder, Wei Xuan.

“The Alliance won’t rashly break the tripartite accord… probably.” Qi Xiu exhaled. “In any case, I’ll need you to oversee the mine and herb peak. Everything on that side—I’m counting on you.”

Mao Maolin was capable, experienced, and—though Foundation Establishment was beyond him—excellent at management. Appointing him overseer was both respect and trust.

A sudden yelp rose from the waterfall. Old lecher Yu Denou, wrinkled skin bared to the world, was romping with a pack of ten-year-olds. He snatched eight-year-old Ming Wenhu, flicked the boy’s tiny manhood, and sent the rest of the children scattering in shrieking laughter. Qi Xiu and the others onshore roared with mirth.

They played until the western sky bled crimson and dusk crept in. Only then did Qi Xiu call everyone out of the water to dress and leave. Qin Hu tried steering his family’s spirit boat up for one last cliff dive, but Zhang Shishi hauled him down by the ear. “The women are coming soon. You trying to peep, kid?”

Qin Hu’s face flushed scarlet; he dropped the subject at once.

The group walked—no flying treasures—toward the elegant vacation lodge left by the cascade’s former owners.

Halfway there, they met Min Niang’s party heading for an evening swim. Qi Zhuang carried a three-year-old girl in her arms—Sheng Nan, the orphan Zhang Shishi had adopted years ago on Qingxi Mountain. She’d formally entered the sect this year. Zhang already had plenty of sons, yet he’d named his foster daughter “Victory Over Men.” No one quite understood his reasoning.

Qi Xiu and Min Niang shared a quick glance. Old married couples needed no words. Min Niang carried the same mission tonight: cheer up Kan Qin. The Kan family lands weren’t far from the sect either; roughly half their mortals had perished in the massacre. If Kan Lin ever returned… Qi Xiu honestly didn’t know how he’d face the man.

…

Alone in bed later, Qi Xiu shut his eyes and saw again the mountain of severed heads outside the gates. Headless corpses and violated women rose, crawling toward him, voices hollow: “Sect Leader… save us. Sect Leader… save us.”

Min Niang and the others still hadn’t returned. Unease prickled. Among the attackers, the notorious District Leopard remained uncaptured. What if…

Worry spiraled. His head throbbed. Sleep refused to come. He got up and turned to accounts instead—cold comfort, but familiar.

The losses had been brutal, yet Wei Xuan’s slaughter of the invaders outside the gates yielded unexpected profit. Some carried loot taken from the Mao Clan or others before hitting Xianlin. Their storage pouches held surprising treasures. The late Foundation Establishment ringleader who’d fixated on Xianlin, ironically, had carried almost nothing—perhaps why he’d descended into mindless rage.

Mun Han sold off the junk and lesser items. After splitting a small share with the three Wei reinforcements and repaying contributions from Qi Xiu and disciples, the sect retained one hundred seventy-three third-order spirit stones. Wei Yong had also quietly forgiven the hated eighty-stone debt—how he settled that with Wei Chengqian was Wei family business.

Beyond stones, the haul included solid artifacts:

A mid-grade second-tier Starlight Snow-Slashing Sword from the late Foundation Establishment cultivator.

An early-grade second-tier Five Poison Bee-Chasing Sting.

A pair of early-grade second-tier Linked Soul Hammers.

Early-grade second-tier Blazing Fire Essence Bell, Fire Crow Pill Furnace, and Reversible Five Elements Umbrella.

Miscellaneous: a second-tier jade slip containing the Dazzling Magnet Needle Art, one second-tier Heaven Thunder Orb, the Myriad Woods Shocking Growth Art, and an upper-grade second-tier talisman summoning a Fanged Vajra.

Finally, Mao Maolin’s gesture of allegiance: a second-tier cultivation manual, the Mao Clan Limitless Art with annotations.

He finished tallying just as the door opened. Three women stepped in, filling the room—and Qi Xiu’s chest—with sudden warmth.

Min Niang, mature and bold, phoenix eyes smoldering. Yue’er, youthful and spirited, gaze bright as mountain springs. Kan Qin, soft-spoken, voice like a gentle stream. Each beautiful in her own way. And all three, mercifully, obedient.

Heat stirred. He schooled his face into sternness. “Out so late. What if something happened?”

Min Niang combed Yue’er’s damp hair, answering calmly. “Loose cultivators have vanished from the entire Mountain Capital region. Even legitimate traders stay away. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Still talking back?” Qi Xiu barked. “On your knees.”

Yue’er jumped, wide eyes already misting—she’d never seen him truly angry. But Min Niang and Kan Qin exchanged knowing smiles. Slowly, gracefully, they sank to their knees…