Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 53: Shan-Du’s Si Wentai

The visitor was a Foundation Establishment cultivator, thirty-something in appearance, sprawled across the seat of honor in Embracing-Origin Hall as though the throne had been built for him alone. A pair of ratty eyes darted over the mortal maid pouring tea, lips curling into a leer so blatant it could curdle milk. One glance was enough to know this was no upright gentleman; no wonder Gu Ji had called him an uninvited pest.

Qi Xiu stepped forward and cupped his hands in greeting.

The man didn’t even spare him a look. He lifted the teacup, lazily scraped floating leaves with the lid, and finally spoke in a voice like a rusty blade dragged across stone.

“You’ve offended someone. Did you know that?”

Qi Xiu’s heart lurched. He combed through every memory of the past half-year; he had bent over backward to tie the three local Foundation Establishment powers to his wagon precisely to avoid making enemies. Aside from those three, who else could he possibly have crossed?

“This junior is slow-witted. Our humble sect is weak and always walks on eggshells. If we have somehow given offense, I beg Your Excellency to speak plainly; who, and how?”

A shrill cackle. The teacup slammed down hard enough to crack the table.

“You’re Qi Xiu, right? Sect Leader of this Chu-Qin outfit?”

“Indeed. Fifth-generation leader of Chu-Qin Sect, Qi Xiu at your service. May I know senior’s honored name?”

Another cackle. “You’re not worthy of it, but fine; I’ll humor you. Shan-Du Sect, Si Wentai. White Mountain calls me Drilling-Wind Tiger.”

White Mountain. Of course.

Qi Xiu’s smile thinned. A lone Foundation cultivator from White Mountain dared to strut into his hall like this? Chu-Qin might be small, but they flew South Chu Sect’s banner. Unless this unheard-of Shan-Du Sect boasted a Nascent Soul ancestor, this was tantamount to slapping South Chu’s face.

In his half-year in the southern borderlands, Qi Xiu had learned the lay of the land. White Mountain did have Nascent Souls, but those old monsters stayed atop the sacred peak and never meddled with the rabble below. Down in the foothills, a sect was lucky to have a single Golden Core. Even the great Artifact-Talisman Alliance, lords of an entire cultivation city, boasted only a handful. Passing White Mountain Foundation cultivators always turned polite the moment South Chu was mentioned.

Yet this Drilling-Wind Tiger acted as if he owned the place.

Qi Xiu’s tone cooled several degrees.

“This junior’s cultivation is meager; I doubt I could offend anyone important. Still, since senior has come all this way to warn me, the other party must be formidable. Allow me to inform South Chu’s Chu Clan; they can handle the matter. What does senior think?”

“Oh?” Si Wentai’s lazy slouch straightened like a snapped bowstring. “And what exactly is your relationship with the Chu Clan?”

Got you.

Qi Xiu’s estimation of the man plummeted further. He loudly recited the half-true tale of how Qi Yun Peak’s Chu Zhen had sheltered them, how South Chu had opened the road south; every word polished to a poisonous shine.

Si Wentai’s face flickered through storm and shadow. He stared as if trying to bore holes through Qi Xiu’s skull. At last the bluster leaked out of him.

“Fine, I’ll speak plainly,” he muttered, tone suddenly almost civil. “You opened a market at Black River, yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“You gifted Zhao Liangde a shopfront. Same for Wang Huan. And Chu Youmin. Yes or no?”

“Yes!” Qi Xiu threw his shoulders back, chin high.

He already knew where this was going. All his careful gifts to the three powers, and here came some random hyena thinking Chu-Qin was a fat sheep ready for shearing.

“So!” Si Wentai snarled, but the snarl lacked teeth. “East, west, and north all got their slice. Why is the south left empty-handed?”

Qi Xiu almost laughed.

“Because Black River has always belonged to South Chu Sect. We don’t owe courtesy to every passerby. We made those gifts only because we’re new here and needed friends. This isn’t a charity kitchen; shares aren’t handed out on sight. Besides, the south face belongs to the Artifact-Talisman Alliance. What exactly does that have to do with your esteemed Shan-Du Sect?”

“You Qi Condensation trash; bold!” Si Wentai finally exploded. One palm splintered the table into drifting petals of wood. Foundation Establishment pressure crashed down like a collapsing mountain.

Qi Xiu’s breath caught; his knees buckled. Cold sweat soaked his spine.

But he knew; show weakness once, and this kind of cur would cling like maggots, bleeding him dry forever.

A spark of reckless courage flared.

“Mind your manners, senior! If someone truly wants my sect wiped out, Chu-Qin will burn everything we have to give them a memory they’ll never forget!”

He yanked the sect leader’s token from his robes and poured qi inside.

BOOM.

The Virtuous Golden-Light Grand Array roared awake. Ochre auspicious clouds that normally drifted lazily above Black River Peak suddenly plunged downward. Golden lightning crackled between them, the air ringing with the clash of heavenly bells and war drums.

Gu Ji burst through the doors, one hand clutching attack talismans, the other gripping the Golden-Silk Heterochromatic Monkey’s chain. Boy and beast planted themselves behind Qi Xiu and glared murder at Si Wentai.

For three heartbeats the hall trembled beneath the array’s killing intent.

Then Si Wentai barked a forced laugh, all the menace gone like smoke.

“Whoa, easy, Sect Leader Qi! My tongue ran ahead of my brain; no harm meant, no harm meant! Let’s try this again, simple and friendly; Shan-Du Sect would like to open a small shop in your market. What do you say?”

The shameless flip from arrogance to fawning could make a demon blush.

Qi Xiu kept the token clenched white-knuckle tight.

“Whether Shan-Du Sect opens a store or not is up to Zhao Liangde, Wang Huan, and Chu Youmin. If all three agree, Chu-Qin naturally has no objection.”

He refused to give a single inch.

Si Wentai tried wheedling, then threats, then wheedling again. Nothing worked. At last he spat a few hollow curses and slunk away like a whipped dog.

The doors closed.

Qi Xiu’s legs finally gave out. He sat down hard, body turning to water, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Sect Leader!” Gu Ji thought he’d been poisoned. Tears flew as the boy threw himself forward. “Senior Brother, talk to me! If anything happens to you I’ll tear that bastard apart!”

Qi Xiu could only manage an embarrassed laugh, wiping the boy’s cheeks.

“Foolish child… Your sect leader was simply scared witless. Thirty years alive and I’ve never truly raised my voice in anger, let alone fought for my life. While the arrow was nocked I could hold, but the moment he left; this is what’s left of me. I’ll be fine after a rest.”

Gu Ji sniffled, then broke into a relieved grin.

“Good boy…” Qi Xiu murmured, warmth filling his chest.

Never judge by appearances. This usually playful, scatterbrained kid had stood behind him without flinching against a Foundation Establishment cultivator; courage rarer than any spirit root.

“You’ll be fifteen after New Year,” Qi Xiu said softly. “Not a child anymore. Watch He Yu; learn a little of his steadiness, and you’ll be perfect.”

At the mention of He Yu, Gu Ji’s smile faltered.

“Senior Brother He… he’s grown so proud lately. Doesn’t talk to the rest of us the way he used to.”

Qi Xiu’s sigh was heavy.

How could he not know?

Ever since Elder Kan Lin of South Chu began favoring He Yu, dropping by every few weeks with personal guidance, the boy’s cultivation had shot heavenward. His smiles came easier now, but they never reached the eyes when he spoke to anyone except Zhang Shishi. A few curt words, then he was gone; too exalted for common pleasantries.

Zhan Yuan’s faction resented him for that arrogance and for the resources lavished on him. The rift would only widen.

I need to do something about that temper before it’s too late…