Path of the Sect Leader-Chapter 5: The Mid-Sized Auction

Qi Xiu exhaled a final ribbon of turbid qi, palms drifting downward in a slow, deliberate arc. One full greater circulation complete.
Still second-layer Qi Refining, peak. No breakthrough. Not even a tremor.
A flicker of regret passed through him, then vanished like morning mist. He had made peace with this cage years ago. Every scroll, every elder’s sigh, every diagnostic talisman had delivered the same verdict: third-layer Qi Refining—the first true gate of immortality—would remain forever beyond his reach.
The culprit? His Life-Bound Essence.
In this boundless multiverse, a cultivator’s natal essence decided everything. The more essences one carried, the more muddled the spiritual root, the slower the absorption of heaven-and-earth qi.
These essences dwelt in the sea of consciousness, born with the body, immutable. They could be plants, beasts, artifacts—anything under heaven—each corresponding to an elemental affinity.
A single essence of sea-buckthorn grass → single wood root → lightning-fast cultivation.
Add a second essence, an evil-slaying sword → dual root (wood + artifact) → slower.
Two wood-aligned essences → still single wood root, but middling speed.
Power mattered too. An evil-slaying sword granted far deadlier innate divine abilities than mere grass ever could.
Yet the rarer and mightier the natal essence, the harder it became to find a suitable Companion Object for visualization before Foundation Establishment—when inner vision finally awakened.
Qi Xiu’s tragedy was simple: his sole natal essence was a Crimson-Bottomed Horse Monkey.
One of the legendary spirit primates that understood yin-yang, walked among men, slipped freely between life and death. Across countless worlds, such creatures could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
Heaven-defying talent, yes.
But so exalted that no monkey, ape, plant, or artifact in the mortal realm resonated with it. Without a proper Companion Object, visualization failed. Without visualization, cultivation stalled.
Forever.
Qi Xiu rose, stretched, and shrugged the old ache away.
Most outer disciples never crossed third layer either. They married, had children, tended spirit fields, and lived like minor lords among mortals—eighty, ninety years of silk and wine, then a peaceful grave. Better than many heaven-prides who sat in caves until their bones turned to dust and still died at Foundation Establishment.
When this errand ended, he would do the same. A little farmhouse, a gentle wife, maybe two pretty concubines—Old Wang from the spirit fields had nine at eighty years old, damn him.
The fantasy made him grin.
A soft click beneath the table leg. The ward registered an approaching presence. The door slid open without a sound.
A mortal waiter entered bearing a lacquered food box, bowed, arranged the dishes, bowed again, and vanished.
One pot of Green Spring spirit wine, one bowl of spirit rice, two side dishes shimmering faintly with qi—two first-tier stones. Food fit for inner disciples. Qi Xiu hadn’t tasted it in years.
Ten days of running himself ragged had burned his vitality low. Tomorrow he’d claim the pill and begin the long, dangerous road home. Bandits, rival sects, desperate rogue cultivators—any might smell the Foundation Establishment Pill on him.
He spent the stones without regret.
The meal was a small feast. He ate until the wine pot rang empty, licked the last drop from the spout, and sighed in satisfaction.
A short meditation to settle the meal, then he straightened his robes and stepped into the night.
Clear River Market had no grand formations to suppress flight, so the streets were merely crowded, not chaotic. Still, the monthly mid-sized auction drew triple the usual bodies. By the time Qi Xiu reached the pavilion, the entrance looked like a kicked anthill.
Two groups of sect disciples—different robes, same arrogance—had planted their leaders right in the doorway, laughing too loudly, trading barbed courtesies while their juniors stood at parade rest behind them.
Qi Xiu’s spiritual sense was weak, but even he felt the pressure rolling off the pair.
Late Foundation Establishment, at the very least.
He waited with the rest of the blocked rabble, eyes properly lowered.
Finally the two worthies swept inside with gracious waves—“After you!” “No no, after you!”—and the dam broke.
Qi Xiu flashed his pre-purchased token and slipped into the lower hall. Tiered benches fanned out around the central stage; above, private boxes for the truly wealthy.
He found his seat in the back corner—cheap ticket, cheap view, perfect.
The auction was already rolling. A Qi Refining host warmed the crowd with trinkets and pills at rock-bottom starting bids. Latecomers trickled in, prices climbed lazily, laughter and shouts mingled.
Then the first real spark: a first-tier high-grade flying sword.
The hall ignited. Bids flew like startled birds. Three hundred second-tier stones later, the sword vanished into an upper box amid envious sighs.
Qi Xiu swallowed. One flying sword = three Foundation Establishment Pills. No wonder every rogue cultivator dreamed of owning one.
Time blurred. Lots came and went. The temperature rose and fell like a drunkard’s fever.
Then:
“Next lot—second-tier low-grade Golden Light Cymbals!”
The middle-aged auctioneer’s voice boomed through the amplification array. He lifted the paired weapons high, letting golden light dance across the hall.
“Metal aspect, attack-defense integrated!”
A second cultivator took the cymbals and began the demonstration—shield form blocking first-tier strikes with ease, barely holding against second-tier when overfed qi; separated offensive throws; the signature golden beam that carved a second-tier low-grade scar across the testing stone.
The crowd’s reaction was… tepid.
The beam looked impressive, but the auctioneer was honest to a fault:
“Late Qi Refining cultivators can manage three full-power beams before exhaustion. Starting bid—fifty-five second-tier spirit stones. Minimum increment one stone. Do I hear fifty-five?”
Qi Xiu’s stomach knotted.
Silence.
He could hear his own heartbeat.
Fifty-five was the outright purchase price. If no one bid…
A lazy hand finally rose in the front row.
“Fifty-five going once—”
Another hand. “Fifty-six.”
Qi Xiu wanted to weep with relief.
Then a raspy voice drifted down from the boxes:
“Sixty.”
Heavenly music.
“Box Geng bids sixty! Any advance?”
The hall buzzed.
Another box, cool and feminine: “Seventy.”
A collective intake of breath. Ten-stone jump? Someone upstairs was willing to bleed for this.
The auctioneer practically sang: “Box Wu bids seventy! Seventy going once—”
Qi Xiu clutched his knees until the knuckles went white, eyes fixed on the glowing bid board.
【Terminology Updates – Chapter 5】
- Life-Bound Essence (本命): innate object/creature in the sea of consciousness that determines spiritual root and innate divine abilities
- Companion Object (同参之物): external item used for visualization and resonance with one’s Life-Bound Essence before inner vision awakens
- Crimson-Bottomed Horse Monkey (赤尻马猴): one of the four legendary spirit primates; Qi Xiu’s unique Life-Bound Essence
- Greater Circulation (大周天): complete cycle of qi through all meridians
- Green Spring Spirit Wine (青泉灵酒): low-tier spirit wine for vitality recovery