Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 78: Bloodbath in Nameless Valley

Burns seared across Qi Xiu's skin like hot irons, each fresh wave of pain sharpening as arrows hissed in endless sheets. Enemy artifacts hammered relentlessly; his elemental barrier thinned layer by layer. This wasn't the safe, distant barrage from inside the array earlier—this was raw, edge-of-death brawling. Qi Xiu had never tasted anything like it. Sweat slicked his palms. His calves quivered from sheer terror. Even his Clear Self Heart gift faltered, drowned under the crushing fear of dying here.

The Linglong Pagoda proved useless offensively—bouncing off the enemy's shield like a child's toy.

"Heh heh..."

The Shan Du cultivator opposite him started out cautious, outmatched in realm. But seeing a fifth-layer Qi Condensation foe fail to crack his defenses? Confidence surged. He dropped cross-legged right there, focusing purely on artifact strikes while popping a Qi recovery pill to shore up his weaker foundation. Smirks twisted into outright snarls.

What now...

Qi Xiu scanned the field. He Yu tangled fiercely in the skies with the remaining pair, holding his own but locked down. Disciples sprawled unconscious on the ground. Bai Muhan edged ahead against her opponent, but no quick finish in sight. The fight dragged into a grueling war of attrition.

No clever outs. He mirrored the enemy—sat cross-legged, fumbled a pill from his storage pouch, and swallowed.

"Ptoo! Damn—"

Panic made him grab the wrong one: a fragrant Yi Pill, sweet normally, but now it tasted like ash. He spat it out, composure fracturing further.

Beloved disciples lay still—life or death unknown. Impacts rattled his barrier like death knells. Stranded in these White Mountain wilds, about to lose everything... only raw survival instinct kept him from shattering.

It's over. Done.

The words looped in his skull, echoing that day Chu Hongchang stormed Black River Peak—certain death staring him down then too.

"Sect Leader—steady! Take out the archers first!"

Bai Muhan's shout jolted him awake. Right—the Linglong Pagoda couldn't dent shields, but mortals?

Courage flickered. He shifted the hand seals. The pagoda veered mid-air, caving one archer's skull with a wet crunch. No pause—it whipped toward the next.

"That's it!"

Bai Muhan nodded approval, mirroring the tactic: barrier tanking hits while her octagonal hammer picked off archers one by one.

"Brothers—charge!"

The mortals, comrades dead around them, tossed bows aside. Hot blood rising, they drew waist knives and rushed in a suicidal surge. As if cultivators could fall to such desperation. Pagoda and hammer danced through the air, weaving death. In moments, the valley ran red—none left standing.

"Bastards!"

Those archers—likely kin to the cultivators. Watching them butchered twisted the man's face into rage. He drove his artifact harder, frantic.

Arrows gone, the barrier quieted. Qi Xiu steadied his breathing. Planted firm, popping recovery pills as needed, enduring the onslaught.

Back to deadlock—attack and defend, grinding on.

Wind stirred in the nameless valley, carrying the metallic tang of blood mingled with clashes and curses, drifting farther into the wilds.

Time bled away. Pure exhaustion fight nearing its end. Qi Xiu teetered on empty—countless barriers raised and shattered. Bai Muhan dominated now; victory close for her.

"Filthy curs... wasteful scum... lowborn trash..."

The two Shan Du cultivators spat venom as their Spiritual Qi dwindled, voices weakening with each curse.

"Ha!"

Bai Muhan ended hers with a sharp cry—hammer crushing home.

The assault on Qi Xiu ceased abruptly. His opponent slumped mid-gesture, essence drained dry. Body withered to a husk, fingers still clenched in attack seals, face locked in bitter hate.

Luck...

Qi Xiu's own foundation cracked deep. That single thought lingered as darkness claimed him. Without the sect's stockpiles in his pouch—as leader—he'd be the corpse.

...

"Sect Leader!"

"Sect Leader Senior Brother!"

Voices dragged him back. Yu Denuo's tear-streaked old face loomed—most beautiful sight in the world. Qi Xiu's lips twitched into a weak grin. "Good... you're alive. Everyone... okay?"

Yu Denuo darkened. "Rest first, Sect Leader. Heal up."

No...

Qi Xiu's heart plunged. Pain lancing through him, he turned his stiff neck, taking in the valley.

Limbs scattered. Pools of gore everywhere. By a prominent boulder, Zhang Shishi and the others slumped against it, blood-soaked, chests rising shallow—alive, but deep in forced slumber from wounds.

Atop the stone lay a body, draped in a robe bearing Chu Qin's signature red patterns.

"Who...?"

Grief crashed over him. Tears slipped silent down his cheeks. The cruelty of their world—inescapable after all.

"Huang He. That dog Si Wenyu's blast... he stood at the array's rear. Bad luck—a heavy shield fragment caught him..."

Qi Xiu squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slow. No words. Huang He—eight years in Black River beside him. Tireless, selfless. Water-affinity root, yet often yielding spirit field time to He Yu. So considerate, overlooked by Qi Xiu himself. Dead now. If not for fearing Chu Duo... would they even be here?

Yu Denuo saw Qi Xiu holding steady amid sorrow—relief eased him. He took the storage pouch, fetched pills, moved to tend the others.

Silence reclaimed the valley, thick with blood that clung to the air.

Night fell. Winds sharpened. Even in robes warded with warming talismans, chill bored into bones. From flares fired hours ago—no sign of Zhao Liangde or nearby allies. How could hearts not freeze?

Zhang Shishi and the rest stirred awake eventually. Huang He's death hit them like hammers. They collapsed over his body, wailing raw. The cries scraped Qi Xiu's soul like blades on bone.

"Back when disaster struck Chu Qin—full extermination threat—not one died. Now this..."

Zhang Shishi, closest to the blast, lost both arms shielding. Qi Xiu's second-tier Muscle Regen Talisman and Continuance Ointment worked slow miracles—new flesh budding. Pain should have been agony, but he bore it stone-faced. Sat beside Qi Xiu, words cold.

Qi Xiu knew the blame: for accepting Zhao Liangde's deal, landing them here. But Chu Duo tangled everything—lives of the whole sect on the line. He'd never breathe a word. Heart bleeding, wronged to the core—he stayed silent, turned away, took the lash.

"Sigh..."

Zhang Shishi saw the reaction—confusion, pity mixing. He rose, checked others' wounds instead.

"Where's Lady Bai? He Yu? Gu Ji?" No sign of the three—panic rising, he grabbed Yu Denuo.

"Gu Ji never showed. Lady Bai and He Yu went looking."

Yu Denuo—timid by nature, but seasoned from years loose in White Mountain, a decade as rogue cultivator—had seen plenty fights. No resentment toward Qi Xiu like Zhang Shishi. Want rewards without risk? World doesn't work that way. He eyed Zhang's attitude with faint disdain, but held tongue—their ties strained through Zhan Yuan anyway.

"Gu Ji..." Zhang Shishi muttered. "Sharp kid. He'll be fine... right?"