Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 65: Guest at the Beast Taming Sect

The fourth winter at Black River came and went like a sigh.

Another Ascension Ceremony yielded zero talents. New Year gifts were sent out—Fragrant Cattail Pig-Fish now proudly listed among the specialties. Everything settled, and Chu Qin Sect finally felt like it belonged here.

Qi Xiu flew south in robes of fresh scarlet, the Chu Qin characters blazing over his heart in gold thread. No more drab ash-gray hand-me-downs. The new robes carried three arrays: Dust-Ward, Wind-Shield, Yang-Warmth. One set for every disciple, paid for without blinking.

Black River Market was a gold mine. A single stall in the ghost market now changed hands for small fortunes; rent had tripled. Zhan Yuan’s monthly tribute broke records every time—twenty-plus third-tier spirit stones sat in the sect vault like a dragon’s hoard.

Back when Flowing Blossom Sect drove them out like stray dogs, fifteen third-tier stones had made their Foundation elders wince. Qi Xiu allowed himself a thin, satisfied smile. A few faces must be very red right now.

Fifth layer of Qi Refining already glimmered on the horizon. The sect flourished, peaceful and prosperous. Even in the greater Black River region, “Sect Leader Qi” no longer sounded like a joke.

Only one shadow crawled beneath the sunlight: the infants who kept arriving deaf, mute, and conveniently fertile.

That shadow followed him all the way to Beast Taming Sect territory.

A grinning outer disciple met him at the border. “The Grand Velocity Trial—held once every five years by Deacon Zhao Liangde himself. Only beast-tamers under fifteen. Cutthroat competition. You’ll see.”

Instead of the usual greeting pavilion, they flew deep into sect heartland.

An hour later the sky opened.

Ten colossal Silverback Carrier Rays—each the size of a small mountain—locked tail-to-mouth in a perfect flying ring, forming an airborne coliseum that blotted out the sun.

Their broad backs swarmed with cultivators, spirit beasts, wine, half-naked mortal dancers, roaring laughter. A carnival of raw wealth and rawer power.

A guard on a giant eagle swooped close.

“Name?”

“Qi Xiu of Chu Qin Sect.”

The guard bellowed toward the ring, voice echoing off scaled hides:

“Qi Xiu, Sect Leader of Chu Qin—has arriiiived~!”

The shout relay rippled across the entire floating city.

Qi Xiu’s mouth twitched. Chu Duo, a Golden Core ancestor, still used a lone Foundation guard at his gate. Zhao Liangde was showing off muscle he didn’t even need.

Another guard shot over. “Deacon’s orders—bring Sect Leader Qi at once!”

He was escorted to the largest ray.

Over a hundred honored guests sat in a loose circle—Foundation cultivators from every neighboring power, wine cups in hand, spirit beasts lounging at their feet.

Zhao Liangde held court at the center, face flushed with drink and triumph, a beauty perched on his thigh. He spotted Qi Xiu and slapped the cushion beside him.

“Little Qi! Get over here.”

Qi Xiu’s stomach tightened. “This junior dares not take the seat of honor.”

“Sit, sit! I’ve got things to discuss.” Zhao Liangde’s small eyes glittered.

Qi Xiu lowered himself carefully. The 【Heart of Clarity】 kept his pulse steady, his face humble.

Zhao Liangde made small talk—pig-fish yields, how his grand-niece was settling in, market profits—while openly scanning the crowd for reactions.

Then he dismissed the beauty with a playful swat and leaned in until Qi Xiu could smell the wine on his breath.

“Tell me straight, Little Qi—how have I treated you all these years?”

“Like family,” Qi Xiu answered at once. “Great kindness to Chu Qin.”

Zhao Liangde chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We are family now, aren’t we? So… if one day I asked Chu Qin to stand with me, blades drawn, lives on the line—would you?”

Chu Duo’s command rang like iron bells in Qi Xiu’s skull.

Agree. Whatever he asks—agree.

The words tasted like rust.

“Chu Qin would follow Deacon Zhao through blood and fire.”

Zhao Liangde studied him for three long heartbeats, searching for cracks. Finding none, he threw his head back and laughed, slapping the cushion so hard wine sloshed.

“Good lad! Remember those words.”

He waved a hand. “Go enjoy the show. Later we watch my little wolves run.”

Qi Xiu retreated to the outer circle, found a corner, and quietly cursed both patron and puppet-master until his throat ached.

The trial began.

Fifty children no older than fourteen rose on juvenile Silverback Rays—sleek, eager, barely the length of a man. They lined up in the hollow center of the ring.

Zhao Liangde stood, voice booming over the wind.

“First place—second-tier artifact of your choice! Second—Grade Two Spirit Pills! Show the world Beast Taming blood!”

The kids howled like wild things, heels digging into scaled hides.

“Go!”

A storm of silver arrows shot eastward. The adult rays unfolded from their circle into a long, living escort, keeping the fledglings in sight.

Bets flew. Grown men screamed themselves hoarse. Spirit beasts roared encouragement.

Qi Xiu watched colorful dots vanish into the horizon and felt nothing but the weight of the promise he had just forged with his own tongue.

Hours later the winners streaked back—three exhausted children, faces split with feral triumph.

Qi Xiu bowed, smiled, accepted a cup he didn’t drink, and flew home under a bruised twilight sky.