Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 94: Bloody Siege

Cultivators poured through the breach like floodwaters. Wang defenders rushed to meet them. Chaos erupted—blades flashing, shadows clashing in the workshop streets.

Qi Cloud ways shone through the frenzy. No mindless slaughter like White Mountain. Invaders surged with roars, but paired off clean: one-on-one duels, methodical. Polite ones even bowed first, exchanged names. Loser tossed their artifact in surrender—winner spared them, just corralled. Heavy wounds? A healing talisman flicked over. Civil, almost.

Qi Xiu hugged a wall corner. A matching-realm foe zeroed in quick.

"Liu Yi of the Zhen Yang Liu Clan. Your name?"

The man bowed crisp, then loosed a crescent sickle artifact. It spun lazy circles overhead, waiting.

Qi Xiu had ditched his Chu Qin crimson long ago—gray robes from years back instead. No sense flashing sect colors for Wang drama. He channeled White Mountain grit, growled rough: "Fight or talk forever?"

"Rude bastard!"

Liu Yi flushed crimson. Finger jabbed—the sickle screamed forward.

Qi Xiu threw up a fire-element shield. Clash sparked bright.

'Clang!'

Qi Condensation fifth layer. Gold, water, fire mixed roots. Spiritual Qi pool shallower than mine. Drag it out—wear him down.

[See Human Nature] swept the man: plan locked. Single affinity, single root—his reserves ran deeper by birth. Enemy natal roots clear as day. Play that edge right, victory's mine.

Bronze blade out—stabbed toward Liu Yi. Man countered with an element shield talisman. Qi Xiu's confidence surged. He dropped cross-legged right there, focused on bleeding the foe dry. Popped a Qi recovery pill mid-flow, smooth as silk—mirroring that old Shandu cultivator's trick from Nameless Valley, but refined, effortless. Felt good executing it clean.

Liu Yi? Green as grass. Reaction mirrored Qi Xiu's back then: confusion first, then wide-eyed realization, frantic rummage through robes—for his own pills, no doubt.

Blade versus sickle probed shields endless—neither cracked the other's low-grade barrier. Qi Condensation duels bogged down like this often: stale attrition once instant breaks failed.

Long haul favored Qi Xiu. Short term? Punching air.

"Heh. Figured your game..."

Liu Yi finally fished out a pill, swallowed with a smirk. "Higher layer than me, huh? Drag it out, wear me thin? Tell you what—maybe you win eventually. But by then? Workshop's ours. I've got backup coming."

Qi Xiu stayed silent. Wangs lose? He'd yield in a heartbeat. Die for their market? Hell no.

Stalemate dragged.

Then the tide flipped brutal.

A shriek pierced from one corner—agonized, raw. Light exploded there. Over a dozen cultivators burst out like starved wolves, tearing into foes. Screams echoed as bodies dropped, no mercy.

"What's the point of this girly sparring? Blood on the blade—that's our way!"

The leader bellowed. One victim caught multiple spells center-mass—ripped apart, gore spraying horrific.

Damn it.

Qi Xiu's gut sank. Those dozen-plus? White Mountain loose cultivators Wang Qing hired. No Qi Cloud rules for them. They carved a bloody path, lives snuffed casual.

This grudge just went nuclear. No clean ends today. Wang Qing, you idiot—inviting stone-cold killers for hire.

"Ah! Rule-breaking scum! Hiding names like cowards!"

One dead was Liu clansman. Liu Yi's eyes burned red, rage funneling straight at Qi Xiu—lumping the masked fighter with those butchers.

No more chat. Ice needles shot out. Then a crimson talisman—muttered incantation birthing a massive fireball, swelling huge before him.

Qi Xiu's brow beaded sweat. That inferno? Unblockable. Recalled the bronze blade to parry the sickle, detonated his shield to scatter needles, rolled desperate. [Spirit Monkey Movement]—Gu Ji's legacy—kicked in fluid, dodging the man-high blaze by a hair.

Gu Ji... you just saved my skin again.

Nostalgia hit amid the chaos. He'd pored over that manual often; first real use, evading death. How could he not sigh?

"White Mountain cur! Die!"

Spells hammered. Liu Yi panted heavy from the drain, cursing as he flung more talismans—ice cones, fireballs, wild barrage. Kill or be killed now.

Qi Xiu threw another earth shield, no intent to escalate fatal. Slaying Shandu foes? One thing. Qi Cloud cultivators? Whole different fallout.

"Listen—we're strangers. Not worth lives over some market scraps..."

"Die, dog!"

Liu Yi pressed manic, convinced fear gripped his foe. Pinches flew relentless—shield flickering thin as paper.

"Die!"

A roar thundered from above. Enemy Foundation Establishment, seeing kin butchered below, dropped restraint. Bisected the Wangs' top late-Qi veteran mid-air—corpse halves tumbling.

Sky turned five-on-four. The fresh killer paired on weakest link: Kan Lin. Double-teamed, he scrambled, defeat ticking closer.

True fire ignited both sides now. Workshop devolved—no more polite bouts. Blood sprayed, brains splattered. Hell on earth.

"How long you holding, huh?" Liu Yi snarled, onslaught redoubled.

Qi Xiu's brows knit. Nameless Valley cured his fight-fear. Skilled? No. Ruthless? That Shandu monster who'd drained him dry yet kept coming—nothing topped that. This pup? Please.

His mind fixed skyward—Kan Lin in peril. Liu Yi? Sloppy, all offense, holes everywhere. Ending him? Just choice, not challenge.

"Where's Wang Qing? Wang Qing!"

Someone yelled. Defenders scanned—leader vanished, ghosted sometime amid the mess.

Head gone, morale crumbled domino-fast. Even Wang loyalists sagged.

"Bastard! Shameless! Brothers, bail!"

Those White Mountain hires seethed—paid good spirit stones, earned endless enemies, and the employer ditches? They bunched tight, carving south for breakout.

Wails rose skyward. Aid Foundation Establishment scattered fleeing. Qi Xiu spotted Kan Lin bolting north toward Qi South City—one pursuer glued tight.

Urgency spiked. No more games with Liu Yi.

Shield burst again—gap seized. Spirit Monkey weaves through incoming fire. Finger snap: bronze blade tangled sickle, detonated both—artifacts shredded mutual.

Low-grade fireballs flung as distraction. Real killer hidden.

Liu Yi bit, neutralizing blasts. Then—earth spike talisman. Thigh pierced clean. He howled, dangling impaled. Qi Xiu mercy-shifted angle; fatal? Easy flick.

Those White Mountain dozen drew every eye—even a Foundation dropping to hunt them. No survival odds.

Qi Xiu poured everything into Spirit Monkey Movement, threading battlefield northbound opposite, slipping the encirclement in the mayhem.

No tails noticed. He veered, tracing Kan Lin's flight path—chasing hard.