Seeds alone chewed through another fortune Qi Xiu didn’t have. The Weis stepped in with grain for a full year—and the seeds to plant it—asking nothing upfront. Repay in harvest next season, they said.
Still short. They liquidated odds and ends. He Yu even shipped his mismatched [Water-Nourishing Sword] from Black River for auction. Only then did spring planting stay on schedule.
“Funds this tight already…”
Qi Xiu’s cheeks burned facing He Yu, who’d flown all the way to deliver the blade. If he hadn’t rushed the scripture pavilion, they wouldn’t be scraping barrel bottoms.
He Yu shrugged, easy as ever. “Sect Leader, the pavilion’s a century-long investnt. Can’t stall that for pocket change. Lately this sword feels off in my hands anyway. Combat tool like that—better traded for sothing practical.”
Back at Black River only a short while, and He Yu had polished his eighth layer to perfection. Tied with Yu Denou now—highest in the sect. One more barrier before Foundation Establishnt. With his gifts, that hurdle looked small.
“Good. Cross the third Qi Refining threshold, and I’ll find you a proper second-tier resonance artifact. Survive this lean year, and breathing room opens up.”
He Yu gone, Pan Rong bustled in: migrants settled, most crops in the ground, Yu and Bai clans tucked into their allotted plots.
Qi Xiu nodded, dismissed him. Wandered alone into the ditation huts.
His own sat dead center of the hollow’s premium second-tier mid-grade soil. Tall Overlord Bamboo ringed it—transplants, expensive but instant. They pinned ambient qi, letting it settle slow and thick. Faster cycles. Beside them, Mysterious Yin Grass already poked sharp green spears. The Ice Cup Flowers at the heart hadn’t stirred yet—still sleeping.
Qi Xiu sank cross-legged, drew true qi through the [Mind Clarity Insight Art]. One full circulation.
Eyes open. Not a whisper of progress. Second barrier clamping down hard. Ti for seclusion—push to sixth layer or stay stuck.
“Sect Leader! Wei family visitor! Brother Zhang asks you greet them quick!”
Pan Rong again, breathless. Qi Xiu hurried out.
A Foundation Establishnt Wei waited beyond the gate, chatting with Zhang Shishi. The mont Qi Xiu approached, the man hauled him upright from a bow, grip overly warm.
“No need for ceremony. Heard so much about you, Nephew Qi. eting you—talented young man, truly talented.”
Nephew? Heard so much?
Qi Xiu’s stomach knotted. Zhang Shishi and the others wore strained half-smiles, like they were biting back laughter.
“To… to what do we owe the honor, Senior?”
The Wei cultivator blood into a grin wide as a market banner. “Bearing great news, of course!”
“May I ask…?”
“Nephew Qi—still unattached?”
Qi Xiu’s heart sank. He’d spun that landlord tale to explain cozying up to power. Karma didn’t waste ti.
“Not yet. Sect affairs keep occupied.”
“Perfect!” The man clapped his shoulder. “Straight talk, then. Old Ancestor Wei Xuan has a junior—sa fifth layer as you. Rare talent. Caught sight of you at the tournant. Took a shine. Sent as matchmaker. What say you?”
Caught sight of ? Qi Xiu almost laughed aloud. He’d been background scenery at best—bottom-tier fodder among prodigies.
Sothing stank.
The Wei kept grinning, expectant. Qi Xiu froze, neither yes nor no.
“Heh…” The smile stretched wider, oily now. “Truth between us—she’s widowed. Cos with a little girl, five or six. Otherwise, with her background? Suitors would trample the gate. Your chance won’t knock twice, Nephew. Grab it.”
Widow. Child in tow.
Qi Xiu’s mind reeled. No wonder the flattery upfront. Marry in and raise another man’s daughter—bargain of the century.
The Wei’s face shifted, mirth curdling. “Or… does the great Sect Leader Qi object?”
Tone dipped low—threat wrapped in silk.
Forcing a match? How desperate were they?
Qi Xiu opened his mouth to stall.
“Accept.”
The voice slid into his ear like cold oil. Again.
“Accept it.”
Qi Xiu nearly scread. Chu Duo—Golden Core busybody stalking his every embarrassnt.
The Wei’s eyes narrowed. Zhang Shishi tensed, sensing storm clouds.
Qi Xiu swallowed pride, future, dignity. “Fine. I accept.”
“Excellent!” The matchmaker bead, nace gone like smoke. “Wedding party follows soon!”
He swept out, satisfied.
Zhang Shishi and the rest stared—first delighted, then uneasy at the man’s parting swagger.
Qi Xiu waved them off. “Disperse. I need to think.”
He stalked back to his hut.
Chu Duo lounged inside, smirk sharp as a blade.
“Old Ancestor Chu—this demands explanation.”
Qi Xiu’s voice cracked; respect forgotten.
Chu Duo chuckled, unbothered. “You really think so girl spotted you in that circus and fell head over heels?”
“Please. I know my face. Throw in a crowd, I vanish. Every sect paraded their best that day.”
“Exactly. Nobody’s smitten with you. So why the rush to tie families? What do they want from little Chu Qin?”
Qi Xiu scowled. “How should I know? Unless I’m the one scoring a bargain—”
“Wei Xuan… clever old fox.” Chu Duo’s eyes glinted frost. “That day in the stands, I might’ve slipped. Let him glimpse sothing. Not sure what he’s after. Accept anyway. Play along. Deepens ties—exactly what I want. But if he’s planting a spy to sniff out our secrets…” Temperature in the hut plumted. “Don’t let it jeopardize my plans.”
Qi Xiu felt ice crawl his spine. He knew which plans. Nodded fast.
“Good. You understand stakes.” Chu Duo flicked two items across: a jade slip, a geomancer’s compass artifact.
Qi Xiu glanced—slip titled [Fortune Guidance and Calamity Evasion Art, revised by Chu Huixin].
“You’ll need these soon enough.”
The old monster vanished, leaving only the faint scent of calculation in the air.
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