Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 80: Ripples from the Funeral

Back at Black River Peak, exhaustion claimed everyone. Doors shut tight; the wounded holed up to heal.

Yu Jing, left in charge, dropped everything else. Settled the group, arranged Gu Ji and Huang He's bodies in the ancestral hall among past sect leaders' tablets. Then he shot off to Black River Market, fetching Zhan Yuan back.

"Qin Ji's got coffins ready-made. The spot behind the rear hall—prime feng shui, solid ground for graves. What about the rites?"

Zhan Yuan arrived, checked on Qi Xiu and Bai Muhan first—barely pausing for the rest. Dove straight into arrangements: picking caskets, scouting plots. Only when things shaped up did he report to Qi Xiu, tear tracks still fresh on his face.

"Your call. Just... don't short them."

Qi Xiu leaned on Zhan Yuan's arm, forcing himself upright. "Let me see them one more time..."

"Sect Leader Senior Brother—rest. Leave it to me. Useless guy like me? Good for this stuff at least. You heal."

The self-loathing hit Qi Xiu like a gut punch. Tears welled, but nothing fell—wells run dry. Bone-deep weariness crashed over him.

"Don't talk like that. Fate's unpredictable. Everyone's got their path. Hearing you say it... hurts worse."

"Yeah... won't say it again..."

Zhan Yuan helped him shuffle to the hall. Yu Jing's muffled sobs leaked from inside as he tended the ever-burning lamps. Spotting Qi Xiu, he wiped his face quick, presented the personal effects: a storage pouch Zhan Yuan once gifted Huang He, low-grade artifacts and talismans, everyday odds and ends.

Only one item stood out—a manual from Gu Ji's pocket, unfamiliar to Qi Xiu.

"Spirit Monkey Movement Technique..."

Flipping it open: 'Authored by Chu Qin's Gu Ji, on such-and-such date, at Black River Peak.'

"After the last tournament," Yu Jing explained, voice thick, "Imperial Beast folks noticed his footwork—bugged him for tips. Got him thinking about creating his own method. Never finished..."

Yu Jing knew Gu Ji best, spilled the details plain. Qi Xiu traced the pages, almost feeling the kid still there, alive in the ink.

Handwriting pure Gu Ji—strokes lively at turns, but young, force uneven, structure loose. Easy to spot. Half-done at best; later sections rushed, sloppy.

"Kid never changed—monkey through and through. Starts strong, fizzles halfway."

Qi Xiu shook his head, chasing a wry smile. It twisted wrong—uglier than tears. Ache tightened his chest. Shift topics. "What about that golden silk monkey?"

"Muhan said... no sign when they gathered his body." Zhan Yuan's reply soft.

"Wild thing, after all. Can't tame blood." Qi Xiu sighed. "Muhan suffered plenty this time. She's solid—if not for her, none of us back. Treat her right, yeah?"

Zhan Yuan nodded firm. Paused, then: "Funeral—invite Wangs, Chus, Zhaos?"

"No. Just us. Send them off ourselves. No outsiders..."

Foundation damage dragged recovery slow. Few words winded him. He eased down beside the bodies, tucking their shrouds neat. Added quiet: "Same for me someday. You lot handling it... that'll be enough."

Zhan Yuan and Yu Jing turned away quick, hiding fresh tears.

Encoffined. Spirit caskets rested in the hall awhile. Auspicious day picked. Sect in white mourning. Only Kan Lin from outside.

Behind the hall, in Zhan Yuan's chosen ground—simple, solemn. They laid them to rest.

"Zhao side... send someone?" Zhang Shishi stared at the fresh mounds, voice low. Arms regrown, but limp—useless yet. His two wives stood silent behind, heads bowed in plain white.

Qi Xiu shivered recalling Zhao Liangde's hall—rows of bodies. Their losses heavy; Zhao's a massacre.

"Zhan Yuan go. Generous condolences. Dozens dead over there..."

Zhan Yuan's face tightened. "Yeah. Fitting—our Qin Ji bolted off to his wife's family funeral ages ago. Probably run into him."

"What!" Qi Xiu hacked, rage choking him. Coughs wracked endless.

"See? Why bring it up? Just upsets Sect Leader." Zhang Shishi glared daggers.

"Forget it!" Qi Xiu roared, hunched and wheezing. "Little ingrate. 'Geese can't fly that far' for our dead—bolts across the world for theirs."

"Ahem." Kan Lin cleared his throat, steadied Qi Xiu. "Body like yours—why waste breath on this? Zhao likely sent a beast to fetch them. Still, send someone. Safe play. Zhao's got promises pending—don't burn bridges now. Loss hits you hardest."

"Qin Ji shouldn't have gone! Our funerals ongoing!"

Kan Lin carried weight; Qi Xiu reined in the temper. Fumed over old overheard talks with Qin Ji. Snapped at Qin Weiyu instead: "You—Qin surname—go!"

"Yes." Blank nod.

Qi Xiu's anger fizzled seeing the daze. Regret instant—wrong target. Awkward stall till Kan Lin stepped in: he'd tag along with Qin Weiyu. Storm passed.

...

Back in his yard, Zhan Yuan shut the door. Bai Muhan slipped in, latching it. Teasing scold: "What got into you today? Knew it'd rile Sect Leader—why poke?"

"Can't stomach it. That ungrateful Qin Ji—bootlicking Zhao, eyeing Sect Leader wary, guarding his family's turf. Leader's got no such designs. Petty! Old Chu Qin days, Qins were mostly trash. Thought the kid decent—looked out for him. Now? Same rotten bunch."

He kicked stools around, curses flowing. Frustration boiled over.

Bai Muhan turned it over—Qin Ji's grudge with the sect... leverage maybe. For White family migrants later...

Kept that locked tight. Coaxed him gentle till the steam faded.

"You went through hell this time..." Voice softened. "Wound better?"

Abdominal gash. His concern warmed her—age not young anymore, death brushed close. Conventions felt flimsy. "Just... sooner or later. Why wait..."

Shy resolve. Sultry glance. Guided his hand to the scar. "Feel. Healed."

Eyes locked. Air thickened, charged. Drawn closer—merged, wrapped tight. No separating now...

...

"Sect Leader's thirty-eight. Why no wife yet?"

Afterglow. Bai Muhan nestled in Zhan Yuan's arms, twirling his hair. Pillow talk.

"Since grabbing that Linglong Pagoda, his progress matches He Yu's—even with our thin beast qi fields. Won't split focus. Looks like he's gunning for Foundation Establishment."

Zhan Yuan unaware: Qi Xiu's swapped Seven Apertures Exquisite Heart pulled earth qi—poly spirit array fed it plenty. No need for the Red-Bottomed Horse Monkey anymore.

"Thirty-eight. Fifth-layer Qi Condensation. Long road ahead..."

Bai Muhan pursed lips, skeptical. Grinned sly, recounted Qi Xiu and Zhang Shishi playing generals in the valley—bungling tactics like amateurs. Zhan Yuan cracked up at the tales.