Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 73: A Promise Comes Due

Zhao Liangde paced the Hugging Origin Hall like a caged tiger, black robes swirling with every sharp turn. His first visit to Blackriver Peak, yet the blooming orchards and misty waterfalls might as well have been invisible. He waved everyone else out, leaving only Qi Xiu.

“That promise you made years ago—does it still stand?”

Straight to the wound he knew Qi Xiu hated most. No greeting, no pleasantries.

Qi Xiu had reported every word of that old conversation to Chu Duo. The order had come back ironclad: cling to Zhao Liangde no matter what. No escape.

He straightened, voice firm as forged steel. “Of course. Chu-Qin may be small, but we don’t break our word.”

“Good! That’s my kin!”

The man who once lounged here accepting tribute from half the region’s cultivators was gone. Zhao Liangde slapped his thigh, grinning ear to ear, relief flooding his face. “Knew I could count on family. No more beating around the bush—Chu-Qin sends ten bodies. You’ll be rewarded beyond your dreams. It starts within the next ten days. Stay put. Wait for my signal.”

He spun toward the door, already halfway out.

“Wait!” Qi Xiu bowed low. “At least tell me something, Senior Zhao.”

Zhao Liangde paused at the threshold, impatience crackling. “Nothing to tell yet—can’t say who we’re hitting. When I come fetch you, just have ten ready. Do this one thing for me, and riches rain down. Your Blackriver’s barely fit for mortals—don’t you want fertile valleys, clear rivers, fields bursting with grain spirit-rice? One job, and it’s yours. Guaranteed.”

He leapt onto a sleek black eagle waiting outside.

Qi Xiu chased after him, grabbing the sleeve without ceremony. “Give me this much—is it anyone who’s shown kindness to Chu-Qin?”

Zhao Liangde barked a laugh. “Kindness? You think I’m mad enough to war on South Chu or Qi Cloud Sect? Relax—these folks might even have old scores with you. No great peril. I’m not sending family to slaughter. Even if I didn’t care for you, I’ve got my own juniors to think of. You’re there to wave flags, shout loud, make us look bigger. I’m not desperate enough to need your blades.”

The eagle screeched and launched skyward, leaving Qi Xiu grasping empty air.

Ten days. Ten people. Out of thirteen souls—counting Bai Munhan who hadn’t formally joined yet, and little five-year-old Li Tan—that meant all but emptying the sect.

Next morning, Qi Xiu dragged everyone to Chu-Qin Temple for council, no matter that Zhang Shishi was still basking in new-married bliss.

Yu Denuo went pale as old parchment, lips trembling. “Everything was peaceful… why real life-and-death now?”

Zhan Yuan scowled. “Dying for a has-been like Zhao Liangde? Hardly worth it.”

Zhang Shishi bristled. “Sect Leader gave his word long ago. Whining changes nothing.”

Qi Xiu slammed a palm on the table. “Exactly. No more debate about going. My decision: Shishi, you just took concubines—stay with Li Tan. If something happens to me, the sect falls to you.”

Zhang Shishi had tasted married delights only last night and felt the tug, but pride won. “My Heavy Earth Shield can anchor the front line. Me staying home while everyone risks their necks? No. Let He Yu stay—his future shines too bright for this.”

He Yu’s eyes gleamed. “I’m going. Fights like these birth breakthroughs. Gu Ji’s foundation is still shaky from the tournament—let him sit this out.”

Gu Ji folded his arms. “Not a chance.”

One by one, no one wanted the safe seat. Even Yu Denuo, reluctant as he was, knew refusing would brand him coward forever among outsiders-turned-family.

Huang He shrugged. “Why leave anyone? One more body barely tips the scale.”

Qi Xiu shook his head hard. “If we all fall, Chu-Qin dies with us. Unacceptable.”

Bai Munhan had watched the men argue in circles long enough. She spoke cool and clear. “Here’s sense: Zhan Yuan minds the market. One Qi Refining layer-two stays on the peak with Li Tan. I go.”

Zhan Yuan exploded. “What kind of man lets his woman fight while he hides?”

Her cheeks pinked—they weren’t wed yet—but she pinched his arm and pressed on. “If we’re staking lives, we fight like lions hunting rabbits—no holding back. Higher cultivation matters most. I’m layer five. Zhan Yuan’s talents lie in ledgers, not bloodshed. Dragging him along helps no one.”

Zhan Yuan flushed crimson, old tournament shame flaring anew under his future wife’s blunt tongue.

But Qi Xiu saw the truth in it. This wasn’t a staged bout; mercy could kill them all.

Decision settled. “Munhan comes. Zhan Yuan guards the market and inn.” His gaze flicked over Qin Weiyu—the honest, plodding boy was useless in battle and safest left behind, but if disaster struck, Qi Xiu wanted Zhan Yuan to inherit leadership. Qin’s strange background made him a potential liability alone on the mountain.

“Yu Jing and Li Tan hold the peak. Everyone else rides.”

Zhan Yuan opened his mouth to protest again. Qi Xiu’s stare shut it. No more argument.

The next days blurred into frantic preparation. Zhan Yuan liquidated every dusty talisman and spare artifact the sect owned, trading for offensive glyphs, one-use treasures, anything that killed faster. No rules this time, no referee to stop the blow.

“This is a first-tier array plate set—the False Four Images Illusion Array.” Zhan Yuan handed over five palm-sized disks to Zhang Shishi. “Nothing fancy, but dead simple to deploy. Place them north, south, east, west, center—boom, mist and phantoms rise. Perfect for group chaos.”

Zhang Shishi accepted with genuine gratitude. Old grudges felt petty now.

Ten days later, a massive silver-backed manta-ray beast descended through the clouds, wings blotting the sun.

Time to go.