Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 35: To Raise Pigs or Not to Raise Pigs

Night. Sect Leader’s quarters, Blackriver Peak.

Qi Xiu slumped in his chair, wooden slip tossed on the table like a dead rat.

“This… looks like a nightmare,” Zhang Shishi muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose until the skin went white. “Ten people total. The manual demands constant manual labor. We’ll never keep up.”

Zhan Yuan chimed in, voice careful. “And if we follow this method, our lifeline stays firmly in the Zhao family’s fist. Maybe… ask Senior Zhao for something else?”

“Something else?” Qi Xiu’s laugh cracked like a whip. “This little scrap of wood cost me an entire third-tier spirit stone. You willing to throw that away?”

Zhan Yuan shut his mouth.

Zhang Shishi, however, stood straighter. “More importantly, these creatures can’t even be called spirit beasts. For cultivators to raise… livestock? It’s beneath us.”

“Beneath us?” Qi Xiu shot to his feet, wooden slip clutched like a weapon. “If it earns spirit stones, it’s perfectly suitable! Spirit beast or mortal pig—what’s the difference? We’re already this pathetic and you’re worried about dignity?”

He was shouting now, veins bulging, ready to hurl the slip at Zhang Shishi’s head.

This was the first time anyone had openly defied the sect leader’s authority since he took the token. Two short months on the seat and his temper had grown fangs.

Zhang Shishi didn’t back down. “Please, Sect Leader Senior Brother, reconsider.” He bowed stiffly, turned on his heel, and marched out.

The door thudded shut.

Qi Xiu stood frozen, face twisted, breath ragged.

He knew exactly why Zhang Shishi balked. The creature on that slip wasn’t a proud spirit beast.

It was a pig.

Or, to be precise, a Fragrant Cattail Pig-Fish.

Not quite pig, not quite fish—an ugly, in-between thing that thrived only in fetid swamps. Snout and mouth like a hog, scales and gills like a carp, limbs halfway between hooves and fins. One of the only animals that could survive the Blackriver with minimal terraforming. It gorged on the roots of Blackheart Lotus, a weed that grew nowhere else.

Normal people didn’t eat it (too gamey), but Imperial Beast Sect spirit beasts went mad for the meat. A few slices as treat dramatically raised affinity during taming.

The breeding method was “simplified” by centuries of sect research, yet still required scale to turn profit. Ten Qi Refining disciples couldn’t possibly manage a large enough herd.

Qi Xiu would rather farm anything else. But even Chu Youmin, a Foundation Establishment cultivator backed by a Nascent Soul sect, had found zero profit in the Blackriver. What chance did a handful of Qi Refining ants have to invent something better?

Zhan Yuan watched Qi Xiu’s face darken to storm-cloud black and spoke softly.

“Sect Leader, Senior Brother Zhang is proud. Hearing ‘raise pigs’ hit him like a slap. He respects you deeply—he’ll come around once he calms down. These days the mountain-protection array has hit snag after snag; he’s exhausted and frustrated. Don’t take it to heart.”

Qi Xiu collapsed back into his chair, rubbing the cold sore blooming again on his lip.

“How can I not? Southern Border summer is almost over. The manual is crystal clear—Blackheart Lotus seeds must go in before winter solstice. Next summer the soil improves just enough for pig-fish fry to survive. First real harvest the year after that. Miss the season and we lose an entire year of income. The stones and materials I hauled back will run dry eventually!”

Zhan Yuan hesitated, then voiced his own worry. “But the manual also says every single pig-fish sold to us will be castrated first—so the bloodline never leaves Imperial Beast Sect hands. We’ll have to buy new fry from Zhao every year. With his reputation… isn’t that dangerous?”

Qi Xiu lifted tired eyes, a flicker of approval breaking through the gloom. “Good catch. But right now we’re the beggars. Doing this guarantees yearly income. Doing nothing guarantees zero. And my storage pouch is already in his pocket. As for Zhao Liangde’s character—Old Man Wang was blunt: greedy, yes; but he keeps his word. Once we recover the capital, even if he cuts off fry supply, we’ll have a foothold. By then we’ll have a foothold and can pivot to something else.”

Zhan Yuan bowed. “Then I have no further questions.”

“Good. The moment the guardian array and housing are finished, every hand switches to planting Blackheart Lotus. Tomorrow I start surveying the river for suitable breeding grounds. You—go talk sense into Shishi. My decision is final. He can pout all he wants; it changes nothing.”

This rebellion had sounded an alarm. His own cultivation lagged behind Zhang Shishi’s. If he kept yielding, authority would crumble. And down the line sat He Yu, watching, learning. Let one precedent of defiance stand and the sect would fracture into ten different opinions.

A sect leader without prestige was no leader at all.

“Yes, Sect Leader.” Zhan Yuan withdrew.

Door closed. Silence fell.

Qi Xiu stared at the wooden slip under the lamplight, the crude characters seeming to mock him:

Fragrant Cattail Pig-Fish – Breeding Manual

He exhaled a long, bitter breath.

“…Guess we’re raising pigs.”