Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 31: Return to Blackriver Peak

Qi Xiu, clad in his signature crimson robes, had been on a spending spree these past few days. His haul was impressive, though his purse had taken a brutal beating for it.

The crowning purchase: a top-grade first-tier formation, the Vast Moral Golden Light Grand Array. Perfect for Blackriver Peak. It sprawled wide, its defenses ironclad. True, it couldn’t draw power from a spirit vein like a proper mountain-guarding array, but Blackriver Peak’s hidden vein was pitifully thin anyway; even a true guardian formation would’ve been wasted on it. Best of all, this one came at a fraction of the price. A steal.

The only downside? Feeble offense. Still, with the pathetic cultivation levels inside Chu Qin Sect, anyone who breached the perimeter would steamroll them regardless. Close enough. Four and a half third-tier spirit stones—the single most expensive item he’d bought. The full deployment set filled several massive crates, forcing Qi Xiu to shell out another full third-tier stone for a Ten Directions Storage Pouch just to haul the damn things.

Next: twenty-seven mid-grade first-tier daoist robes, the Breeze Robes. Each embroidered with Cleansing and Wind Barrier rune matrices. One cut down on the sect’s endless need for cleaning talismans; the other let disciples move through the black mists without choking, partially replacing the Black Wind Banner’s job. They were ugly as sin—drab gray stitched with some forgotten clan’s gaudy crest—but dirt cheap. One and a half third-tier stones for the lot.

Chu Qin Sect was broke, and Qi Xiu had zero shame. One robe per disciple, swapped out with their old crimson ones. No one complained.

Then came the gifts for Gu Ji and the others who hadn’t tagged along: cheap first-tier trinkets all around. For himself, he picked up a low-grade first-tier spirit monkey—a Golden-Eyed Monkey with mismatched blue and green irises. Useless for the Great Dao, sure, but the little bastard was cute. A consolation prize to soothe the soul.

He also swept up armloads of loose cultivator travelogues, geographic treatises, low-tier Five Elements techniques, and spell manuals—enough to stuff a modest bookshelf. A humble foundation for New Chu Qin Sect’s future scripture pavilion.

One item was meant specifically for He Yu. Qi Xiu had shot down the kid’s promotion to inner disciple, and with Kan Lin stirring trouble on the outside, the boy deserved something to smooth ruffled feathers. His current bonded artifact, the Spirit Water Jade Pendant, was only low-grade first-tier. Pushing further into mid and late Qi Refining would strain it to breaking.

So Qi Xiu bought a Flowing Bodhi Prayer Beads—mid-grade first-tier, strung from a dozen rare jade-marrow beads. Liquid light swirled inside each one like living water. It would mesh perfectly with He Yu’s Stone-Born Water natal gift. A peace offering.

The rest barely dented his wallet—two third-tier stones total.

Finally, two sheets of second-tier talismans: Construction Giants. Plus a stack of first-tier Servant Laborers and piles of everyday talismans and pills—another third-tier stone gone. Construction Giants weren’t cheap, but after last time’s resolution, and now flush with stones, he splurged on a pair. Blackriver Peak had no mortal servants. Daily chores were manageable, but building houses? A handful of Qi Refining cultivators would be useless. Sleeping on communal cots in the main hall like beggars was beneath even them. Construction had to happen.

Oh, and that rundown little tantric temple masquerading as a daoist hall still leaked wind through its broken front teeth. Time to fix the damn door.

In just over ten days—Wang Wan nowhere in sight—Qi Xiu had burned through ten third-tier spirit stones. And that was him pinching every corner. Otherwise fifteen would’ve vanished.

He sprawled across the couch in his temporary quarters, idly stroking the little monkey curled in his arms, muttering to himself.

“Couldn’t control the spending… The more I know market prices, the more ‘deals’ I spot, the faster the stones fly. Five third-tier stones left. Enough to coast for a good while, but without income it’s just eating the mountain hollow…”

The monkey seemed to understand. It stared up with those mismatched eyes, face scrunched in an impressively human frown.

Qi Xiu barked a laugh. “You’re useless for cultivation, but damn good at cheering a man up.” He shoved the worry aside and devoted himself to teasing the creature.

Business in Qi Nan City wrapped up, another ten days wasted waiting. A full month away from the peak—Qi Xiu was starting to fear something had gone wrong back home. He was about to blow a fortune chartering a flying spirit beast when Wang Wan finally appeared.

“Let’s go. Kept you long enough—hope the young friend doesn’t mind?”

The old man looked pressed for time, politeness thin, urgency thick. No small talk; he simply swept Qi Xiu into his sleeve and shot south.

Mid-flight, Wang Wan glanced at the monkey clinging to Qi Xiu’s chest and chuckled. “Rich harvest this trip, eh?”

Qi Xiu offered the obligatory humility, then seized the opening. “My little sect squats beside that black river—nothing coming in, only going out. Senior, can you point this junior toward a real foothold here in the Southern Border? Something that actually earns spirit stones?”

Wang Wan let out a strange, dry laugh.

“A foothold… For us cultivators, the only true foothold is cultivation itself. Everything else is dust. Walk far enough down the Great Dao and you might escape the yellow earth. Fall short, and no matter how grand your clan or sect, when you die they crumble without strength to prop up.”

He jerked a thumb westward. “Take Chu Hongshang—that woman carved out the entire Southern Chu Sect with nothing but Nascent Soul might. Families, sects—without power at the helm, you end up like me: ancient, half-buried, still running errands for useless descendants.”

The words carried a sudden bitter chill. Whatever happened on his trip had clearly stung.

Qi Xiu felt the weight settle on his own shoulders. He fell silent, staring down at the clouds while his thoughts turned to Chu Qin Sect’s future.

Cultivation, huh. Me? Hopeless. Even this monkey can’t walk the Dao with me. Zhang Shishi? A notch above, but still doomed. He Yu… sigh. It all rides on that kid now.

Wang Wan noticed the dark cloud over the younger man and forced a lighter tone. “Look at me, spewing graveyard talk again. You’re still young—don’t make that face like an old corpse.”

He grinned suddenly. “Fine, I’ll sell you a tip. If you want steady spirit stones around Blackriver, there’s only one man to beg.”

Qi Xiu’s head snapped up. “Who?”

Wang Wan’s answer cracked like a whip.

“Zhao Liangde!”