Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 168 Core Formation and Alliance

Dawn light barely touched the peaks when the Chu Qin Sect set out for home. Everyone—young and old—wore bright, ordinary clothes in a riot of colors, walking at an easy pace. Only Li Tan rode his Wind Lizard Crane, carrying Yue’er, Kan Qin, and a few mortal family members overhead.

The idea had come from Kong Wen the monk. Cultivators might have Spiritual Qi, robes, and formations to shield them, but none of it truly silenced instinct or severed them from the natural world. For this trip, he’d insisted: no protective arts, no treasures—just everyday garments and trinkets. Live like mortals for once.

Qi Xiu shed the usual Foundation Establishment dignity and walked among them, chatting freely. Shen Chang, Li Tan, and Yu Shang had spent years out in the world building favors and running trade; the old awkwardness was long gone. With two sly old foxes—Yu Denou and Mao Maolin—along for the journey, laughter spilled down the path like water.

Cool Cascade sat at the very tip of one of Xianlin’s long spurs. Two full days of travel under sun and stars brought them, at last, to the familiar sight of the sect gates glowing in the late-evening sky.

They didn’t enter right away.

Instead they circled behind the mountain to a quiet slope facing water. Row upon row of fresh graves stood in neat ranks—over a thousand. Remnants of paper money and soul banners fluttered in the summer breeze, catching the red of sunset. The sight tugged at the heart, heavy with quiet grief.

Qi Xiu rested a hand on Qin Siguo’s shoulder. Together the group offered silent respects to the dead, then turned away—each carrying the weight of a new beginning.

Inside the gates, everything had been rebuilt: fresh layout, new halls, new thatched cottages. Yet the spirit land still exhaled a faint, sour reek of Black River corruption. The ground lay like an open wound, useless for now. Xiao Zhan’s petty tactic from the game had proven brutally effective; if anyone ever turned it on another sect’s fields, the sheer disgust might finish them before a single blow landed.

Qi Xiu escorted Min Niang, her daughter, and Kan Qin to the new residence just outside the tainted zone. Past the screen wall lay a small artificial pool, crystal clear, with a minor formation ready to heat it into a steaming bath at a moment’s notice. Beside it rose a delicate red pavilion—Yue’er and Kan Qin’s quarters, and the place where the four of them sometimes tangled together in glorious, shameless abandon.

Up on the pavilion balcony, Qi Xiu held the three women close, gazing out over the mountains while they talked of small, ordinary things. As dusk deepened, their hands began to wander, teasing, coaxing. Heat rose fast—until something tugged at the edge of his awareness.

He gently disentangled himself, straightened his robes, and stepped outside.

Qi Zhuang was hurrying up the path in tiny, anxious steps.

“What is it?” he asked.

She giggled first, then flicked her embroidered handkerchief at him. Qi Xiu frowned. His nominal adopted daughter had reached the second layer of Qi Refining, yet she still carried the habits of her old servant days.

“I came to ask you to play matchmaker…”

The usually brisk, capable woman suddenly turned shy and girlish.

“I’ve set my heart on Weiyu. Help me talk to him?”

“Weiyu?”

Qi Xiu raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were close with Jianxin.”

“Oh, come on—not that kind of close.” She rolled her eyes. “For actually living with someone day after day, you want a straightforward man like Weiyu. Easy to manage… I mean, easy to live with.”

She launched into a rambling monologue—old grievances about her late husband’s pettiness, how the neighbor Old Wang, quiet as a gourd in public, turned into a devoted sweetheart at night, bed creaking like mad—while her own man had been useless. If she remarried, she wanted another Old Wang. Or rather, another Weiyu: solid, honest, reliable.

Qi Xiu listened through the blunt, earthy chatter and understood. Weiyu was already past the age most men married; left to his own plodding nature, he’d never think of it. The Black River Qin clan wouldn’t dare press their sect leader on personal matters. In the end, the decision would fall to Qi Xiu anyway.

Qi Zhuang was sharp, competent, and carried a single-element aptitude. Better to keep that talent inside the sect than let it marry out. Pairing her with Weiyu—whose steady dullness balanced her quick tongue—actually made perfect sense.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll speak to him.”

She beamed and trotted off, delighted.

Qi Xiu turned to find Weiyu—only for the sect’s prized second-grade lower-quality Primordial Heavy Earth Great Formation to flicker. The protective dome dimmed and brightened erratically. Trouble. Serious trouble.

He shot upward to the main hall roof.

From the direction of Mountain Capital came rolling waves of Spiritual Qi pressure, flattening trees and silencing birds as it advanced. Even Qi Xiu, a Foundation Establishment cultivator, felt his chest tighten under the weight. The Qi Refining disciples below fared far worse; most couldn’t circulate Spiritual Qi at all.

“Heaven-and-earth phenomenon!”

Above Mountain Capital a colossal vortex of Spiritual Qi spun in the sky. Inside it loomed a vague white silhouette—something roaring, devouring ambient Qi with terrifying hunger. The sect’s grand formation guttered, on the verge of collapse.

Qi Xiu didn’t waste time wondering. He dashed into the Scripture Pavilion and began channeling spirit stones in a steady stream, barely managing to stabilize the array.

“Core Formation!” Yu Denou wheezed, pinned flat to the floor by the pressure, still fighting to speak. “Someone in the Wei Family is forming a Golden Core!”

Kong Wen burst in next. Strangely, the phenomenon barely touched him—he was the least affected among the Qi Refining disciples.

“This isn’t just Core Formation,” he shouted. “Something’s wrong with the phenomenon!”

Qi Xiu pressed him—what exactly felt off?—but Kong Wen only sat there muttering, “Wrong… it’s just wrong…”

The terrifying display lasted three full days and nights.

In the end Qi Xiu had no choice but to evacuate everyone into the Scripture Pavilion, shielding them with minor formations. The second-grade Primordial Heavy Earth Great Formation was drained dry; even its core array pattern crumbled to ash. Mercifully, mortals and animals suffered only the oppressive aura—no mass deaths.

At last distant thunder cracked. The sky cleared.

A messenger arrived almost immediately.

“The Wei Family reports that one of their cultivators and his companion beast both succeeded in forming Golden Cores. They invite the Sect Leader to attend the Core Formation ceremony!”

Shen Chang had barely stepped outside to scout before rushing back—with a Wei Family Foundation Establishment cultivator in tow.

Qi Xiu hurried to greet them. Kong Wen tagged along, babbling excitedly.

“A cultivator and his beast forming cores simultaneously… incredible strength…”

Kong Wen himself walked the beast-companion path. This touched his own future; the monk’s usual calm had vanished entirely. Still—he wasn’t even Foundation Establishment yet. Why fret over something so far ahead?

The Wei envoy, beaming, explained the etiquette for attending a Golden Core ceremony, then hurried off to notify the next sect.

Five seats had been granted to the Chu Qin Sect.

Qi Xiu chose Shen Chang, Yu Denou, Mao Maolin, and Min Niang. Kong Wen immediately crowded in, practically begging like a child. With no other choice, Mao Maolin gave up his spot.

Li Tan ferried the five of them to Mountain Capital.

The ancestral peak blazed with lanterns and banners—a rare festive air. Since Wei Tong seized the mountain, the Wei Family had endured three pyrrhic victories at Tianyin. It had been years since the place felt this alive.

The new Golden Core cultivator was named Wei Yuan, from Wei Tong’s direct line—one of the seven clan elders—yet Qi Xiu had never laid eyes on him before. The man kept an astonishingly low profile.

For reasons no one understood, the Wei Family rushed the ceremony, refusing to wait for distant guests.

After the long, formal rites, Wei Yuan mounted the platform and spoke on the Dao—sharing insights from his cultivation and the experience of forming a core. Kong Wen listened in rapturous trance; when Wei Yuan stepped down, the monk actually tried to follow him for more questions, only to be gently blocked by Wei clansmen.

After the ceremony ended, Wei Mingming approached Qi Xiu.

“The Ancestor summons the sect leaders. Everyone else, please return first.”

Qi Xiu sent Min Niang and the others back without delay.

Kong Wen, however, refused to leave—half-mad with curiosity. Qi Xiu finally lost patience; he ordered Yu Denou and Shen Chang to drag the monk aboard Li Tan’s spirit beast boat.

Inside the grand meeting hall, the Chu Qin Sect’s seats were placed toward the rear among the collateral clans.

Wei Xuan sat at the head. Beside him, the newly ascended Wei Yuan cradled a pure-white spirit beast—something between cat and tiger, larger than a leopard yet smaller than most big cats. It rested with eyes closed, silent.

When everyone had gathered, Wei Xuan spoke, voice lighter than usual, almost cheerful.

He began with the expected platitudes: two new Golden Cores strengthened the clan’s future, brighter days ahead, and so on.

Then his tone shifted.

“Do you know the current state of the Luo Family in the south?”

Wei Yong answered smoothly. “Of course. We hear Luo Feng has already perished. The Luo descendants have split into factions, while collateral sects carve out territories. The once-dominant southern power has fractured into dozens of warring groups.”

“Correct.”

Wei Xuan nodded, then asked another question everyone already knew the answer to.

“And do you recall the terms of the tripartite accord?”

Again Wei Yong played along, matching his rhythm like a crosstalk partner.

“We, the Artifact Talisman Alliance, and the Luo Family agreed to cease hostilities. No clan may attack another…”

“Precisely!”

Wei Xuan rose and stepped to the center of the hall. In his hand he held a high-grade contract scroll of beast hide. He displayed it briefly.

“With the Luo Family in chaos and collateral sects seizing land, under my mediation the various Luo branches have declared a ceasefire among themselves. They have also signed a supplemental accord with us. Henceforth, the Wei and Luo clans are not only at peace—we are allied!”

Wei–Luo Alliance!

Shock rippled through the hall—even among the Wei clansmen themselves. The secrecy had been absolute.

Formal alliance meant no more southern border threats for the Wei Family. And more—

“Moreover,” Wei Xuan continued, “the Wei and Luo clans have agreed to jointly purge the collateral sects occupying Luo lands—and split the spoils evenly!”

The hall erupted.

A united Wei–Luo front against scattered collateral sects was no contest. Lands, spirit mountains, fields, populations—riches waiting to be claimed. Congratulations poured in; everyone praised Wei Xuan’s brilliant strategy, masterful diplomacy.

Only a few—Mu Xun, Qi Xiu, and the other collateral sect leaders—exchanged quiet glances. The same chill thought passed between them: today the fox mourns the hare; tomorrow it may be us.

Wei Xuan permitted himself two short, pleased laughs.

Then he raised his voice.

“I declare—the campaign heads south. We march at once!”