Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 52: Birth of Black River Market

With mortal servants finally handling chores, the disciples of Chu-Qin could at last shove aside the endless grind of daily life and pour their hearts back into cultivation and sect affairs.

Before spring fully stirred, Qi Xiu had already staked out the chosen plot and raised a market from nothing. Sink or swim; he had to test the waters.

Two short streets crossed like a simple sword stroke. At the four prime corners of the intersection:

- One plot went to Zhao Liangde of the Beast Taming Sect; a shop for spirit beasts and their fodder.

- One to Wang Huan of Qi Yun Peak; pills, herbs, elixirs of every hue.

- One to Chu Youmin; an auction house, because why not start with nothing and still turn a profit?

- The last building: ground floor reserved as a ghost market for rogue cultivators, managed by Yu Denuo; second floor belonged to Chu-Qin itself; food, wine, and beds, with Zhan Yuan installed as overseer.

Nothing groundbreaking. Every tiny market in the cultivation world looked more or less the same.

The construction and the protective array bled the sect dry. They even borrowed a fat stack of spirit stones from Zhao Liangde at stinging interest, collateralized against next year’s black pigs and spirit fish.

Zhang Shishi protested, of course; loud, long, and predictably ignored. Qi Xiu pushed it through anyway.

Free real estate quieted Wang Huan’s conscience nicely. A few words from Zhao Liangde sealed the deal; no awkward questions asked.

Zhao Liangde laughed all the way to the vault. Rogue cultivators never set foot on Beast Taming Sect territory; he’d been shut out of commerce for decades. Now he had a foothold in former South Chu lands and interest rolling in before the doors even opened.

Chu Youmin still nursed a grudge from the time Qi Xiu ratted him out in South Chu City, but free property is free property. He sent a late-stage Qi Condensation disciple to run the place and called it a day.

In one seemingly ruinous move, Qi Xiu lashed the three strongest Foundation Establishment powers in the region to Chu-Qin’s fate with chains of pure profit.

Early spring. Tender shoots of Black-Heart Lotus pierced the water at the breeding ponds. On the same morning, Black River Market quietly raised its gates.

Any cultivator flying overhead, day or night, would spot the blinding glare of the guardian array long before they smelled the swamp. Qi Xiu’s doing. The hotter the weather, the fouler Black River’s miasma became. Their little market sat on an unremarkable hillock, dwarfed by Black River Peak itself. Without that screaming beacon of light, no one would ever bother to land.

There was no ceremony. Chu Youmin and the other two weren’t exactly on speaking terms with each other, let alone with Qi Xiu. No fireworks, no guests, no speeches. The market simply opened, like a flower nobody was invited to smell.

Wang Huan’s manager nodded politely. The other two acted as if the landlord didn’t exist.

Qi Xiu took it in stride. Being underestimated was his oldest companion.

After making the rounds with gifts and smiles, he climbed to his own second-floor balcony and poured tea for Yu Denuo and Zhan Yuan.

“Right now we’re a rumor at best,” Yu Denuo said, swirling his cup. “We just have to endure until word spreads.”

Of the three, Yu Denuo was the most eager. From wandering rogue to ghost-market overseer; even if the ground floor was empty as a tomb, he now drew a steady sect salary. For the first time in centuries, he had an address.

Zhan Yuan’s feelings were far more tangled. Qi Xiu had posted him, Shen Chang, and Pan Rong here for two reasons: one, none of them could cultivate properly on the main peak anyway; two, he and Zhang Shishi had nearly come to blows again after New Year’s. Sending Zhan Yuan away was both exile and warning.

So the Sect Leader’s heart still leans toward Zhang Shishi and He Yu; those with real hope on the Great Dao…

Acid rose in his throat, but he kept his face smooth.

“Wang, Zhao, and Chu all priced their goods half to one full grade higher than back home,” he said aloud. “That’ll scare customers off before we even start.”

Qi Xiu and Yu Denuo frowned in unison.

“We have no leverage over them,” Yu Denuo muttered, already speaking like a Chu-Qin elder. “Keep this up and the place stays dead.”

Qi Xiu only shook his head. “We mind our own stall. That’s why I chose the seemingly profitless corner. Ghost market rents are thin, but lodging and meals; low-level cultivators can’t skip those. Do it well, and the coppers will come. This is a market, not a city-square. Foot traffic like the great bazaars is a distant dream. For now, this is enough.”

The other two thought it over and nodded. Survival first; pride later.

Assigning the market to Zhan Yuan’s group had been Qi Xiu’s reluctant compromise after yet another shouting match between factions. Separate the wolves, let the wounds scar over.

Why can’t everyone just get along?

He watched Zhan Yuan dissect logistics with sharp insight, then thought of the bright futures he’d pinned on Zhang Shishi and He Yu. Palm and back of the same hand; both bled when cut.

Qi Xiu bid them good evening and flew home.

Black River Peak was quiet. Mortal servants bustled somewhere below, but of his disciples only Gu Ji remained visible, idly tossing spirit fruits to the Golden-Silk Heterochromatic Monkey.

“Where’s everyone?”

“Senior Brother Zhang took the others to the breeding ponds again. Beasts keep sniffing around the new lotus shoots. He said he’d clear them out personally.”

Zhang Shishi might grumble at every new scheme, but when work needed doing he threw his life into it. Last time he’d fought the Black River Lizard he’d come back half-dead and still smiling.

Qi Xiu gave a satisfied nod, then realized he was the only one with nothing urgent to do. A self-mocking laugh escaped him.

He slipped into the sect leader’s private chamber, entered his personal pocket realm, and once more bent over a stack of blank talisman paper.

Fate-Cloaking Talismans.

Yu Denuo had taken a batch north to White Mountain and come back grinning; thirty first-tier stones in materials, sold for a full second-tier stone each. Matching the price of common elemental shields. Slow sales, yes, but the margin was obscene.

If only they moved faster, these talismans alone could feed the entire sect.

The spark lit a fire. Qi Xiu bought cheap paper and cinnabar by the crate, handed them out, begged his disciples to try their hands at talisman crafting.

Only He Yu showed real promise; and He Yu was far too precious to waste on assembly-line work. Both Qi Xiu and Zhang Shishi would tie the boy to a meditation mat before letting his cultivation stall for pocket change.

In the stillness of the chamber, brush met paper in careful silver strokes.

A knock.

Gu Ji’s voice, low and urgent:

“Sect Leader, an uninvited guest just landed at the mountain gate.”