Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 83: Another Tournament

The empty seat where Zhao Liangde should have sat gaped like a fresh wound. Qi Xiu and his handful of disciples squirmed through the rest of the ceremony, counting heartbeats until they could bow out. The moment the final pleasantries ended, they bolted for the exit, desperate to put the mountain behind them.

“Headed somewhere in a hurry, Grand Sect Leader Qi?”

The voice slithered into Qi Xiu’s ear from behind, familiar enough to jolt him mid-flight. The wind-array spirit boat dipped dangerously before he wrestled it steady. He twisted around—Chu Duo, of course. A sheepish grin forced its way onto his face. “Old Ancestor jests. What grand sect leader? I’m barely keeping a roof over eleven heads.”

Chu Duo had siphoned plenty of infants from Black River Peak over the years; the two men knew each other’s measure now. The old monster’s mood seemed light today, almost indulgent. He chuckled and flicked his sleeve. “Flying alone over these white peaks? Why trail after Zhao Liangde like a lost pup? Hop on.”

Qi Xiu didn’t argue. He stepped onto the old man’s flying sword, and the world blurred. They shot upward, skimming just beneath the howling astral winds—hundreds of times faster than his little spirit boat.

Qi Xiu kept his questions locked behind his teeth. Chu Duo hadn’t come to the White Mountains for the ceremony; the real reason was that secret business, the one that kept needing fresh infants. Best not to pry.

Instead, he seized the opening he’d been nursing for weeks. You wanted me glued to Zhao Liangde, right? Well, the man just got kicked to the curb. Time to call the debt settled.

He recounted everything: the demotion, the public humiliation, Zhao’s final roar as he stormed out.

When Qi Xiu finished, he risked a sidelong glance. Chu Duo didn’t look surprised—just gave a dry snort. “Didn’t think the old fox would go that far. Used Zhao as a chamber pot: handy in the dark, kicked aside come morning. Looks like Wei Tong’s betting everything on Wei Xuan looking after his bloodline.”

Qi Xiu’s brow creased. Chu Duo caught the confusion and, in rare generosity, laid out the whole tangled mess.

Turned out Wei Tong once had a Nascent Soul backer at Beast Taming Sect’s main mountain—someone who’d promised to carve out territory for his own sect. The deal was nearly sealed when that backer died in a fight. Overnight, Wei Tong lost both patron and future. The main sect dispatched a new Golden Core to oversee the southern branch. Stranded between two stools, he’d turned to a distant cousin: the middle-aged man everyone had also called “Old Ancestor Wei” at the ceremony—Wei Xuan.

Wei Xuan had been scraping by up north, clinging to a minor sect in a harsh land. The two struck a bargain. Wei Tong leveraged Beast Taming Sect’s name to rally fighters and seize Shan Du Mountain. Wei Xuan simply uprooted his entire sect and transplanted it here. One supplied muscle, the other a legitimate sect banner. They merged under the Wei name. Wei Tong’s lifespan was running out; the mountain would fall to Wei Xuan anyway. The northerner gained prime territory without lifting a finger.

Talk about building a wedding gown for someone else to wear.

The pieces clicked for Qi Xiu. No wonder Wei Tong hadn’t worried about qualifications—the Wei sect already existed. As long as no direct blood ties within three generations, the Great Zhou Academy turned a blind eye to mergers. Kicking Zhao Liangde away so ruthlessly made sense too: future grievances would land on Wei Xuan’s doorstep, not his.

Qi Xiu forced a weak laugh. “In that case… Old Ancestor, about tailing Zhao Liangde… surely we’re square now?”

Chu Duo’s sideways glance carried winter weight. “I know exactly what’s churning in that head of yours. Don’t dream of wriggling free. Following Zhao was never really about Zhao—it was a window into the Wei family’s plans. Since Wei Tong didn’t deny the land Zhao promised you, pick a plot right next to their new holdings. First-floor seat to whatever they scheme next. You won’t even need Zhao as a stepping stone anymore.”

Qi Xiu swallowed a groan. Zhao Liangde, for all his flaws, kept his word. Wei Tong? Today proved the man had no bottom line. Chu Qin Sect had eleven souls left—lose two more like in the nameless valley, and they’d be ghosts haunting their own peak.

“Old Ancestor may not know,” he ventured carefully, “Wei Tong plans a tournament. Winners choose first from whatever scraps he tosses out. We’d be pitting Qi Refining against Foundation Establishment. How could we possibly claim decent land?”

Chu Duo hummed, considering. Then a thin smile curved his lips. “Simple enough. Go compete. I’ll lend a hand from the shadows. You’ll walk away with territory—and good territory at that. Call it payment for loyal service to the Chu family.”

Qi Xiu opened his mouth to protest, caught the darkening in those ancient eyes, and shut it again. “Then… this disciple thanks the Old Ancestor in advance.”

“That’s better.” Chu Duo’s voice dropped to its usual vulture rasp. “Remember, the Chu family has never shorted you. You’re already at the fifth layer of Qi Refining, aren’t you?”

Black River Peak rose beneath them. Chu Duo set him down with casual grace.

“One more thing,” the old man added, already half-fading into mist. “Past the fifth layer, that [Exquisite Pagoda] of yours stops being useful. Whether you get the next resonance artifact… well, that depends on how well you perform.”

Then he was gone, leaving only wind.

Qi Xiu stood rooted, turning the words over and over.

The pagoda stops working?

Chu Huixin’s [Mind Clarity Insight Art] had explained it clearly: resonance artifacts had to bridge both original natal gift and the strange substitute one. If Chu Duo spoke true—and a Golden Core wouldn’t waste breath on empty threats—then the pagoda’s help ended at fifth layer. Which meant Chu Duo held the key to whatever came next.

Escape wasn’t an option. Not when the old monster knew Qi Xiu carried the Chu family’s darkest secret. Carrot today, stick tomorrow—same leash either way.

Best to heel.

He gathered the sect—eleven wary faces in the cramped hall—and broke the news: they’d enter Wei Tong’s tournament for a shot at land.

“Another damn tournament?”

Zhan Yuan’s face collapsed like wet paper. Beside him, Bai Muhan hid a laugh behind her sleeve. She never let him forget his Black River Market debacle; some scars never fade.

“One fighter per sect,” Zhang Shishi said, eyes shuttling between Yu Denou and He Yu like a merchant weighing coins. “Who do we send?”

“He Yu’s stronger by a mile,” Yu Denou admitted with a shrug. He had one spike artifact and a single desperate trick—nothing that would last against Foundation Establishment.

Qi Xiu turned to Bai Muhan. Her command in the nameless valley had been flawless. Good blood breeds good blood; if she earned merit, maybe he could bargain for her father’s freedom. With Chu Duo’s hidden help, whoever went would place decently. Send her, rack up the favor, then plead with the old monster—perhaps turn Bai Xiaosheng loose. A Foundation Establishment guest elder would vault their strength without threatening control. Land and talent in one swing.

“How about you, Miss Bai?”

Her eyes widened. Zhang Shishi and the others looked equally baffled.

She didn’t refuse outright. Qi Xiu spun a careful excuse: low chances anyway, everyone from Black River Market had shown their hands last time. A fresh face might catch opponents off guard. Losing wouldn’t shame anyone—a woman in the ring, expectations already rock-bottom.

Bai Muhan considered, then nodded. Beneath the caution she’d worn since her father’s fall, excitement flickered. A chance at a real stage? She’d be lying if she claimed she didn’t want it.