Path of the Sect Leader-Chapter 47: Journey to Southern Chu City

Year-end always turned Beast Taming Sect into a circus. The grand hall overflowed with visitors; the queue snaked out the doors and halfway down the mountain path.
Qi Xiu slipped into the back of the line like he belonged there. Six months in the south had taught him how to work a crowd. A nod here, a quiet “Fellow Daoist” there; soon enough people were chatting with him instead of past him. Chu Qin Sect now carried modest name recognition; “the new little sect squatting on Black River”; but its Sect Leader was still a nobody. Perfect.
The line crawled forward.
Ahead, a middle-aged Daoist in moon-white robes lowered his voice to conspiratorial levels. “With two suns in the sky these days, I fear…”
“Watch your tongue!” the old man in front snapped, shooting a wary glance at Qi Xiu.
The middle-aged cultivator clammed up.
Qi Xiu pretended he’d heard nothing, but his ears pricked.
The old man smoothly changed topic. “Word is, plenty of people bagged first-grade spirit beasts in Black River this winter. One White Mountain rogue even live-captured a Shadow Mink; made a fortune.”
The middle-aged cultivator sighed enviously. “Shame Chu Youmin only lets their friends hunt. Otherwise I’d try my luck.”
Old man sneered. “Those swamp beasts evolved in isolation. Fish the pond dry this season and half the species will be gone forever.”
Middle-aged cultivator chuckled darkly. “Black River’s not their backyard anymore. Why would they care if things go extinct?”
Qi Xiu stood silent, the words settling in his gut like lead.
Finally his turn.
He stepped before Zhao Liangde, bowed, and wasted no time on ceremony; the elder hated fluff.
“Senior, I need passage to Southern Chu City.”
Zhao Liangde tapped the armrest. “In normal years, easy. But after your sect took Black River, Beast Taming Sect no longer borders Southern Chu territory. Higher-ups cut all casual ties. Passenger rays run once in a blue moon now, and the price is robbery. You can wait until after New Year if you like.”
Qi Xiu slid a crystalline beast core across the table; taken from the Black River Lizard’s skull; and smiled like a filial grandson.
“I’m nobody important. Just squeeze me onto a cargo run. I’ll sit quiet as luggage.”
Zhao Liangde pocketed the core with a dry laugh. “Sharp boy. Cargo rays fly daily. One leaves tomorrow; I’ll put you on it. Conditions are rough and you keep your head down. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Next dawn Qi Xiu boarded a working Silver-Backed Carrier Ray. No palaces on this one; just mountains of crates lashed under dirty tarps and a biting wind with no barrier array to blunt it.
A Zhao clansman led him to a narrow pocket between cargo stacks.
“Three days. Water and food on you. Don’t wander. If anyone asks, you’re my cousin from out of town.”
Qi Xiu bowed, settled in, and the ray launched westward with a thunderous flap.
Heavier load meant slower speed, yet still faster than any Foundation Establishment cultivator could sustain.
When they crossed high above Black River, Qi Xiu climbed atop a crate and looked down.
From this height the swamp was a black scar threaded across endless green; tiny, lonely, and perfectly placed.
Lightning struck his mind.
Two major sky trade routes; Beast Taming Mountain to Southern Chu City, and Artifact-Rune City to Qi’nan City; crossed directly over Black River. Tens of thousands of cultivators and tons of goods flew that intersection every year.
Open a market beneath that crossroads and the customers would fall from the sky like rain.
The thought had tickled him months ago when Yu Denou first spoke of running solo trade, but local markets like Nine-Three and Military Station kept muddying the picture. Now, looking down from heaven, the dust blew off the idea and it shone; clean, brilliant, inevitable.
Only two problems: Chu Youmin and Wang Juan sat too close. Their little markets would starve if a proper skyway bazaar opened overhead.
The whole reason for this trip was to soothe Chu Youmin’s arrogance; maybe float the market idea past the yellow-robed girl at the same time. But Wang Juan… Wang Juan wanted a safe legacy for his descendants. A Chu Qin market would bleed his dry.
If Wang Juan said no, Qi Xiu; bound by gratitude; couldn’t proceed. It would be dishonor.
His excitement curdled into headache.
Three days of wind, cramped muscles, and frantic mental planning later, the ray banked above Southern Chu City.
The sect’s core territory spread like a reclining olive; Black River nothing more than the eastern tip. The city itself was colossal; walls tall enough to shame mortal emperors, avenues wide as rivers, yet the streets looked half-empty. Southern Chu had rooted here less than a century; population still thin, buildings waiting for people who hadn’t arrived yet.
The ray descended onto an outer platform. Chu clansmen immediately surrounded it, jade slips out, counting crates.
Qi Xiu hopped down, announced himself politely, and dropped Chu Zhuangyuan’s name like a golden token.
Eyebrows rose. Hostility vanished. They waved him through the gates.
Southern Chu City; heart of his cage, and, if the heavens were kind, maybe the place where the cage door finally cracked open.