Path of the Sect Leader-Chapter 9: Farce in the Main Hall

“Heh heh, youngsters will be youngsters. This old man An Seventh, on behalf of the An Clan, apologizes for the scene. When the formal wedding day arrives, the An Clan will host a grand feast for everyone. Farewell, farewell.”
The white-haired elder cupped his fists with unconcealed smugness, turned, and swaggered out, beard swaying like a triumphant banner.
The rest of the hall watched him go, the three allied sects barely hiding their laughter, the Chu-Qin survivors frozen in mortified silence.
Yet the farce… was far from over.
The scripture keeper—Zhang, as his clique called him—could not peel his eyes from the wooden token in Qi Xiu’s lap. Ambition flashed like lightning behind his mild gaze. He flicked a glance at the disciple who had mocked Qi Xiu earlier.
The disciple understood instantly. He stepped forward, plucked the sect leader’s token from Qi Xiu’s unresisting arms, and carried it back like a trophy.
“Senior Brother Qi isn’t sect-leader material,” he announced loudly. “Senior Brother Zhang, on the other hand—cultivation, character, all top-notch. We’ll only follow him. The position belongs to him.”
Several voices echoed agreement—all from Zhang’s little circle.
Qi Xiu sat on the floor, ribs aching, head ringing, too stunned to notice the theft.
Sister Qin noticed.
She lunged like a tiger protecting her cub. “Give that back! The sect belongs to our old Qin Clan! Sect Leader Qi passed it to Siyan—Siyan was just confused by that fox spirit! Once we talk sense into him he’ll take it back! Hand it over!”
Zhang’s lackeys blocked her path.
The prankster disciple sneered. “Old woman, have some shame. Qin Siyan severed ties in front of everyone. You think we’ll go begging him to return? He’s eighteen, not eight!”
“Even if he’s gone, it’s still Qin blood! Outsiders like you have no claim!”
Sister Qin—normally the gentlest soul—turned into a whirlwind of claws and teeth. Nails raked faces; insults flew.
“You outer-name dogs finally show your tails! Eating from the Qin trough all these years, fat and sleek, waiting for the moment to bite the hand that fed you!”
Zhang’s face darkened. He cupped his fists toward the high seats.
“Honored seniors are watching. Don’t slander us. Which Qin opened the arrays and led wolves up the mountain? Us outsiders bled spirit power dry holding the Scripture Pavilion! Where’s your conscience?”
Sister Qin was one against many. Reason failed, fists failed. At last she did what any mortal market auntie would do—plopped onto the floor and wailed at the top of her lungs, cursing them as pigs and dogs until the rafters shook.
The baby, freshly asleep, woke and joined the chorus. Hall beams threatened to crack under the duet.
The three allied Foundation Establishment leaders watched with the delighted fascination of men at a cockfight.
Chu Youyan, the Chu Clan envoy, was not amused.
*Old Ancestor gets soft-hearted in his dotage—look what he’s saddled me with!*
He had promised the three sects he would not interfere in “internal Chu-Qin affairs.” Now the internal affairs were a screaming match between a madwoman and a pack of schemers. His face was burning on behalf of the entire Chu name.
Dawn light crept through the doors. Enough.
“ENOUGH!”
A thread of Foundation Establishment pressure whipped out. Mother and child choked silent mid-wail.
Chu Youyan stood.
“I don’t care about your petty squabbles. The fourth-generation leader passed the token to that Qi fellow. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only sect leader here. Bring him forward.”
Qi Xiu was still on the floor, swollen and bleeding. A few honest disciples hauled him up. He swayed like a drunk.
Chu Youyan tapped his brow with one finger; clarity snapped back into Qi Xiu’s eyes.
“Fifth-generation Sect Leader Qi,” the envoy said flatly, “one question: Southern Border. Yes or no?”
Qi Xiu glanced at the circling wolves—Zhang clutching the token, Sister Qin tear-streaked and furious—then at the empty plaque beam where his master’s body lay in a side hall.
If the sect fell to any of these people, yesterday’s tragedy would repeat tomorrow.
Better a cripple who loved it than vipers who devoured it.
He dropped to his knees and bowed until his bruised forehead touched the floor.
“This disciple is willing.”
“Good.”
A scroll of pale spirit-sheep hide appeared in Chu Youyan’s hand.
“Sign this soul covenant. Three days. I return to fetch whoever chooses to follow. The three sects will not hinder preparations.”
Qi Xiu read quickly: Chu-Qin Sect relinquishes all claim to the old mountain; no future revenge against the three sects; the three sects swear never to pursue Chu-Qin survivors. Simple, brutal, fair.
He pressed his spiritual mark without hesitation. A cold gaze from the void brushed his soul; the contract sealed.
The puppet leader from Flowing Cloud Sect added his mark. Chu Youyan tucked the scroll away, saluted the three Foundation Establishment leaders, and left on a sword light brighter than the rising sun.
The moment the pressure lifted, Zhang and Sister Qin pounced again, all fake smiles and probing hands.
Qi Xiu stuffed the command token—retrieved silently by a kind junior—deep inside his bloodstained robes.
He walked straight to the new puppet sect leader, bowed properly, and spoke with exhausted calm.
“Fellow Daoist, our late sect leader’s body has not yet been laid to rest. May we borrow your hall to observe proper mourning rites? This humble one would be eternally grateful.”
The puppet leader—surprised by the courtesy—agreed at once.
Qi Xiu turned on his heel and strode out.
His “loyal” disciples trailed after him, still sniping.
The prankster disciple smirked. “Look at him, already drunk on power—”
Qi Xiu spun.
One eye swollen shut, face mottled purple and red, he looked like a vengeful ghost fresh from the grave.
“This seat,” he said, voice low and terrible, “will not yield the position. The Chu Clan recognizes only me. The covenant bears only my mark. Argue all you like—it changes nothing.”
He swept them with a gaze that promised winter.
“In three days I leave for the Southern Border. Those willing to follow, find me then. Those unwilling—consider yourselves expelled as of this moment. Our paths need never cross again.”
He walked out without looking back.
The morning light caught the blood on his robes and turned it crimson as the rising sun.
【Terminology Updates – Chapter 9】
- Soul Covenant (灵魂契约): binding contract enforced by the Heavenly Dao itself
- Zhang (张师兄): ambitious scripture keeper attempting a coup