Path of the Sect Leader-Chapter 2: Racing to Clear River Market

The shouting match had long cooled into murmurs, then into something far quieter.
In the end, Qi Xiu simply sat and watched a ninety-year-old man weep like a lost child on the other side of the little table.
“When I took the family reins, the Second Ancestor still lived,” Qin Ye choked out between sobs. “We were barons then. Even viscounts bowed and smiled in Qi Cloud City. I had face, real face. Now? The older I get, the less I’m worth. Even the lowest gentry—filthy upstarts with a single Qi Refining guard dog—dare spit when my name is spoken…”
He rambled on, tears carving pale tracks through the dust on his cheeks. From past glories to present shame (yes, shame in his eyes), and beneath it all, raw terror of tomorrow.
What if Sect Leader Qi failed Foundation Establishment?
What if the next leader was not a Qin at all?
Qi Xiu kept his face gentle, but inside he sneered.
“As long as the sect still has a single Qi Refining cultivator, the Qin bloodline keeps at least gentry rank. Gentry is still nobility, old man.”
He didn’t say it aloud. Qin Ye wasn’t looking for truth; he just needed ears to pour his grief into. Qi Xiu murmured comforts, walked the old man to the door, and only then noticed the silencing ward had burned itself out hours ago, its light long vanished.
Watching that hunched, shuffling figure disappear down the mountain path, Qi Xiu felt the Chu-Qin Sect itself tottering away into the dusk.
He shut the door and stared at the sealed chest.
He had told Qin Ye nothing close to the truth.
The sect was a crumbling tower in high wind.
His master had raised him like a son, shielded him from sneers when his bizarre Life-Bound Companion doomed any hope of the Great Dao. The Qi clan had saved his life and given him a home. Debts of gratitude weighed heavier than mountains.
Yet even Qi Xiu could not deny it: his master was no sect leader.
Once the brightest genius, the outsider who seized the patriarch’s seat because everyone believed he would reach Foundation Establishment first.
Then came failure after failure. Each impact shattered something inside the man. He turned inward, selfish, paranoid. Disciples scattered. Elders carved out private fiefdoms. Late-stage Qi Refining elders even invited outsiders to bolster their factions, leaking every secret the sect still possessed.
Worse: word had come down from Qi Cloud Sect itself. The Nascent Soul ancestor, Old Chu, had declared aloud that his ties to the Chu-Qin Sect ended the day his direct disciple—founding ancestor Qin Lie—died.
The sect’s greatest backer had washed his hands of them.
And the sect leader’s repeated pill-assisted assaults on Foundation Establishment had chewed through his lifespan. Everyone knew the man had decades at most—some whispered months. Once he fell, the three-generation protection expired. Neighboring sects circled like wolves, openly patrolling the roads, waiting for the corpse to cool so they could feast.
A sect founded by a Golden Core patriarch, sitting on third-tier spirit veins—now guarded only by Qi Refining cultivators. A child wandering a bandit market clutching gold.
All of it, ultimately, rested on the sect leader’s failing shoulders.
Qi Xiu had been exiled here precisely because he was one of the few the man still trusted. His job: smuggle out the sect’s dwindling treasures, sell them in secret, and turn them into the spiritual pills his master needed for one last charge at Foundation Establishment—or into resources for whichever loyalists the old man still favored.
How could he ever tell that to Qin Ye?
The Qin clan’s ancestral legacy, pawned off piece by piece through their own mortal lord’s hands—just to keep suspicion away.
If the old man ever learned the truth, the shock would kill him on the spot.
Qi Xiu exhaled, steadying his heart.
“Master’s grace and the Qi clan’s kindness come first. Old Qin House… forgive this unworthy disciple.”
He instructed the gatekeeper to bar all visitors, handed over the finger monkey for safekeeping, and told the boy to say—should anyone ask—that Master Qi had gone visiting friends, return date uncertain.
Then he stepped into the night.
Once clear of the hut he moved leisurely, pausing to admire moonlit scenery, giving any hidden watchers time to grow bored. Only after several li, certain no tails followed, did he slip into the trees.
A farmer’s rough jacket replaced the vermilion robes. A pinch of disguise paste darkened his skin, roughened his hands, re-tied his hair in a laborer’s knot. His features stayed the same—his disguise skills were crude—but few people in the world actually knew Qi Xiu’s face anymore.
He slapped a Lightness Talisman to his leg and shot forward. Trees blurred past. Every time the talisman’s glow dimmed he replaced it without breaking stride. By the hazy hour before dawn he reached the outskirts of Clear River Market, lungs burning, a stack of spent talismans fluttering to the dirt behind him.
Another change of clothes, a quick meditation to settle his breathing, and he strolled into the growing morning crowd like any other rogue cultivator.
The crude disguise came off with a single Cleansing Talisman—markets like this were watched by powerful formations; obvious shape-shifting invited trouble.
Today he wore the sky-blue robes of a mid-tier sect disciple, real robes left behind years ago by a visiting ally. He had used this identity here many times without incident.
The cargo this trip was painfully motley: second-tier low-grade artifacts down to handfuls of first-tier spirit stones. Proof that the sect’s coffers were nearly empty. A single decent mid-grade artifact or a third-tier spirit stone would have fetched a Foundation Establishment Pill outright.
He marched straight to the tallest, gaudiest pavilion at the market’s heart—still early, only a scattering of customers inside.
A sharp-eyed usher hurried over with the usual spiel. Qi Xiu cut him off.
“Who’s the appraiser on duty today?”
“Senior Zhang,” the usher replied instantly, recognizing a regular.
“Take me up.”
Qi Xiu flashed a thumb-sized jade token—proof of prior dealings. The usher bowed and led him to the second floor, knocked thrice on a carved door, and announced, “Honored guest, Senior Zhang awaits within.”
Qi Xiu pushed the door open and stepped inside.
【Terminology Updates – Chapter 2】
- Clear River Market (清河坊): large rogue-cultivator market outside Qi Cloud Sect’s direct influence
- Lightness Talisman (轻身符): short-duration movement talisman
- Cleansing Talisman (清洁符): removes dirt, odors, and minor disguise materials
- Storage Bag (储物袋): spatial treasure; this one marked “Qi Cloud make, two-cube capacity”
- Foundation Establishment Pill (筑基丹): primary medicinal catalyst for breaking into Foundation Establishment realm