Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 43: Journey Through the Snow

“Sect Leader! The black mist; it’s gone! Really gone!”

Gu Ji came barreling up the mountain, boots slipping on fresh snow, voice cracking with excitement.

At the summit of Black River Peak every disciple had already gathered. Yet when the news broke, no one cheered. Every pair of eyes turned, quiet and heavy, toward Qi Xiu.

He stood at the edge of the grand formation, watching fat goose-feather flakes drift against the golden barrier. Snow that could not touch them.

“First snow arrives, black mist retreats; right on time,” he murmured. “Only… southern snow always comes fashionably late.”

He paced a slow circle, hands clasped behind his back, brows knotted. The disciples waited in perfect silence.

At last steel flashed across his face.

“No more hesitation.”

He whirled.

“Zhan Yuan!”

“Here!” Zhan Yuan stepped forward, spine ramrod straight.

“I bought five Wind-Array Spirit Boats from Yu Denou; today he collects. Ride west at once, ask him to meet us at the breeding grounds tomorrow dawn. He knows the way. Then return straight here and guard the peak with Shen Chang, Gu Ji, and Qin Weiyu.”

“Understood!” Zhan Yuan saluted, summoned his flying treasure, and shot off like an arrow.

Qi Xiu’s gaze snapped to the next.

“Zhang Shishi!”

“Present!”

“Supplies ready?”

“Everything accounted for, Sect Leader!”

“Good.” A low growl rolled out of Qi Xiu’s chest, the kind that belonged on battlefields, not sect halls. “Zhang Shishi, He Yu, Pan Rong, Yu Jing, Huang He; gear up and follow me!”

“Yes, sir!” Five voices thundered as one.

Moments later they stood before him in fresh ash-gray robes, massive packs strapped tight, eyes bright with the sharp hunger of wolves finally let off the chain.

Qi Xiu swept them once, pride flaring hot behind his ribs.

“Move out!”

He vaulted onto the lead spirit boat. The five piled in behind him. Under Gu Ji’s openly envious stare, the craft rose with a humming roar and tore north through the blizzard.

The first snow of the year fell thick as goose down. They flew all day, wind screaming, ice crusting their lashes. Only when the horizon bruised purple did the breeding grounds appear below.

One slow circle overhead confirmed it: the choking black mist had thinned to a sickly film, mixing with snowmelt into stinking sludge.

Qi Xiu angled the prow downward, landing on the single hillock he had chosen months ago; highest point for miles, perfect anchor for what came next.

The others touched down behind him. Frost armored their robes; everyone except Zhang Shishi looked half-frozen.

“Pop a Qi Return Pill each,” Qi Xiu ordered without ceremony. “We’re not done yet. Shishi, take the lead; array goes up tonight.”

No time for coddling now.

Pills vanished between cold lips. Under Zhang Shishi’s crisp commands the Yellow Sand Illusory Array rose again; this time torn from the home peak and reborn here as permanent outpost. Hands moved faster than the first build; experience is a brutal teacher.

By dead of night the hillock flashed ochre once and settled into deceptive calm.

“Lost some potency in the move and the rush,” Zhang Shishi reported, wiping sweat despite the cold. “Maybe seventy percent left.”

“Plenty,” Qi Xiu said. “This is just a campsite. Keeps out wind, snow, and leftover mist. Tents up, eat, sleep.”

Zhang Shishi chanted; earthen spell swept the foul black mud aside like a broom. He Yu smoothed the ground flat. Poles came out, Pan Rong’s wood-affinity vines lashed them tight, felt sheets dropped over the frame. Primitive, but home.

“Best we get out here,” Qi Xiu said. “Crash hard. Tomorrow Yu Denou arrives and the hunt begins.”

Exhaustion won. Cleaning spells flicked away grime; the central fire crackled. Minutes later snores filled the tent; five bodies sprawled like fallen soldiers.

Only He Yu sat cross-legged, forcing himself through evening meditation. Qi Xiu gave the boy an approving nod, then slipped outside. Tonight he took first watch.

Snow eased toward dawn. A sword streak split the gray sky; Yu Denou, punctual as ever.

He found Qi Xiu leaning against the tent flap, half-dozing, spear across his knees.

“Sect Leader Qi, you suffer hardship,” Yu Denou greeted with real respect. A sect leader standing night guard in a blizzard was not something he saw every day.

Qi Xiu straightened and clasped fists. “This favor won’t be forgotten, Brother Yu. Name your price later.”

Yu Denou laughed it off. “A morning’s stroll through the marsh, nothing more. Besides, you’ve thrown plenty of business my way; consider us square.” He glanced at the hillock, the newborn array shimmering faintly. “And once Elder Zhao’s backing is public, Chu Qin will be swimming in spirit stones. Congratulations in advance.”

The name hung between them like incense smoke. Qi Xiu only smiled and changed the subject to pigs and fish.

Inside the tent, stirring and yawning. Five sleepy disciples emerged, saluted the guest, then set about breaking camp with practiced speed.

Qi Xiu surveyed the endless black marsh under a leaden sky, wind knifing through his robes.

“Plenty of room,” he said, voice carrying over the wind. “Pack light, weapons hot. We start the moment everyone’s ready.”

Home felt very far away, warm beneath golden clouds.

Out here the cold bit deeper than snow ever could.