Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 84: A Strange Tournament

Seven plots laced with minor spirit veins. Twenty-odd stretches of mortal farmland and villages. All dangled as prizes for the sects that had bled alongside the Wei family. Losers still walked away with fat consolation purses. Whatever else you could say about them, the Weis had put real skin in the game this time.

Qi Xiu arrived at the newly renamed mountain with Bai Muhan in tow. The roster was thinner than the chaotic brawl back at Black River Market—no mob of mismatched cultivators, no eleven-man Chu Qin clown show. One fighter per sect. The stakes weren’t a handful of shop deeds but inheritable land that could anchor bloodlines for generations. Every power sent their heaviest hitter. Reclusive elders dusted off their robes and stepped into the ring themselves. The air crackled with a tension the market farce had never touched.

“Just survive two rounds,” a voice murmured straight into Qi Xiu’s mind. “The land you want will be yours.”

Yu Denou lounged nearby, calm as deep water. Except this Yu Denou carried none of the old man’s habitual cringe. Age lined his face, but the aura rolling off him pressed Qi Xiu back half a step. Those eyes—cold, predatory, ancient. Chu Duo in disguise.

Right under Wei Xuan’s Golden Core nose, the old monster strolled untouched. Confidence like that came from knowing no one here could peel away the mask.

Qi Xiu kept his own voice low, threaded on the same secret channel. “How exactly are we pulling this off?”

Chu Duo flicked a small wooden box into his palm. “Have her carry these. Relax. I guarantee nothing goes wrong.”

Inside: a sheet of cyan beast-hide talisman, larger than a scholar’s tome, crawling with dense sigil-lines that twitched like living veins. Even sealed in the box it thrummed, heavy as forged iron. Beside it lay an apricot-yellow banner no longer than a forearm, yet treasure light poured off it in waves—clearly something rare and lethal.

“Flash these, and most will fold without a fight,” Chu Duo sent. “Especially that talisman. It’s priceless. Try not to actually use it, or I’ll bleed spirit stones for your sake.”

Qi Xiu didn’t dare guess what could make a Golden Core wince at the cost. He passed both items to a bewildered Bai Muhan. Chu Duo fed her instructions the same silent way.

Wonder chased across her face, bright and fleeting. Smart girl—she swallowed every question about why “Yu Denou” suddenly owned such treasures and wielded voice transmission like breathing.

Wei Tong never showed. Wei Xuan ran the show. He delivered the obligatory thanks-for-your-blood speech, then kicked things off.

The first pair drawn were both Foundation Establishment. They tore into each other with grim desperation. Limbs flew before Wei Xuan bothered to intervene. Every match ended in stretchers and screams—only a shade less brutal than the war that had birthed this mountain.

Bai Muhan drew a peak Qi Refining opponent first round. Decent luck. The man grinned like he’d already won when he heard “Chu Qin Sect.”

Then she unfurled the apricot banner.

Soft yellow haze wrapped her from crown to soles. Her opponent’s smile died. He hammered the barrier until his knuckles bled spirit light—didn’t leave a scratch. In the end he spat curses and yielded.

A collective gasp rippled through the stands. Eyes turned to the Chu Qin corner with fresh calculation. Whatever they thought of the sect before, that banner rewrote the ledger.

Bai Muhan tucked the flag away, cheeks flushed rose. Beating a peak Qi Refining cultivator without breaking a sweat? She’d never dared dream it. The envious stares raining down felt like warm wine in her veins as she floated off the stage.

Second round brought worse luck: a mid Foundation Establishment veteran.

Chu Duo shifted, using Qi Xiu’s body as a screen from Wei Xuan’s line of sight. Lips barely moved—silent conversation with someone across the arena.

Qi Xiu watched the opponent’s face cycle through shock, dread, and finally grim resignation.

He could guess the script.

Bai Muhan stepped up, dutifully raised the banner first, then flicked out the beast-hide talisman.

It burst into a silver sword no longer than a finger. At the tip, two faint eye-shapes shimmered. Pressure rolled across the stage—raw Golden Core might, thick enough to choke breath.

The Foundation Establishment cultivator gaped theatrically. “A talisman treasure!?”

Gasps swept the crowd. Even Wei Xuan’s brows arched as he glanced toward Qi Xiu and “Yu Denou.”

Qi Xiu finally understood the old monster’s stinginess.

Talisman treasures were forged from a Golden Core’s own origin essence—ruinous to craft, shaving years off the maker’s life. Most were heirlooms for direct descendants. Even in a great sect like South Chu Sect, they were vault pieces, not pocket change.

The mid Foundation cultivator sold the performance perfectly: wide eyes, trembling hands, then a frantic concession without throwing a single strike. Bai Muhan stood alone on stage, banner drooping, unsure whether to bow or wait for an attack that never came.

Laughter and jeers chased the loser down the steps. A discounted Golden Core blow was still a Golden Core blow—mid Foundation cultivators had survived worse with guts and luck. Calling him craven felt fair.

The man endured the mockery without a flicker. Whatever land his sect chased clearly mattered less than whatever promise—or threat—Chu Duo had whispered. Qi Xiu would bet on threat.

Bai Muhan drifted back in a daze, victory handed to her like a gift-wrapped dream.

“We… actually have land now?”

Qi Xiu nodded. She let out a delighted squeak and bounced on her toes—pure teenage joy breaking through the mask she’d worn since her father’s fall.

Chu Duo extended a palm. Qi Xiu reclaimed banner and talisman from the bemused girl and returned them.

Bai Muhan started to protest—why stop now, we’re on a roll?—but caught the subtle deference Qi Xiu showed the disguised elder. Her lips sealed. Some questions were healthier left unasked.

“Enough,” Qi Xiu murmured, mostly for her benefit. “Land in hand is plenty. Greed gets people killed.”

Real land. Mortal families could settle, newborns could breathe free air instead of crowding Wang Juan’s charity plots. Whatever strings Chu Duo had pulled, the gain was solid.

Wei Xuan’s voice boomed over the arena. “Third round draw—Chu Qin Sect’s Bai Muhan… bye!”

A mid Qi Refining woman had just claimed spirit-vein territory.

Jaws dropped. Even Chu Duo’s borrowed face twitched.

“Lucky, are we?” he muttered, eyes narrowing at the unruffled Wei Xuan. The Golden Core continued announcing pairings as if nothing odd had happened.

Qi Xiu’s pulse hammered. Land with a spirit vein—real cultivation ground, not just farmland. More than they’d dared hope.

He glanced at Chu Duo. “Do we… take it?”

The old monster dragged his stare back from the stage. A slow, wolfish grin spread.

“Take it. Why the hell not? If he offers, I’ll damn well grab.”