How to Properly Use the Sect Leader, Part 2

How should one use the sect leader?

The senior sister’s tone when discussing the sect leader was akin to saying, “There’s no such thing as trash, only treasures misplaced.”

Su Qing couldn’t help but feel a surge of respect.

As expected of a senior sister—her words carried such audacity.

Stepping forward eagerly, she sought guidance. “Please, Senior Sister, enlighten me!”

The lead senior sister flashed a confident smile, though it carried a hint of mischief.

…

East Market, Song Family’s Honey Spirit Tea.

As a branch member of Tianque City’s Song Family, Song Youyi, the shopkeeper, had worked hard to secure a legitimate shop, especially one with potential to grow into a major establishment.

Tianque City, where immortals and mortals coexisted, was a hub.

Though Song Youyi knew some cultivation basics, his poor talent and unremarkable aptitude meant the family only helped him reach Qi Refining before casting him out to manage an external shop.

He knew he had few prospects, destined to rely on the Song Family.

Thus, he was determined to make achievements, using this shop as a stepping stone to greater heights.

A tea shop, however profitable, was merely a mundane business.

Most customers were mortals who couldn’t taste the difference between cheap, sugary tea leaves and quality ones.

So vulgar.

How could it compare to running a herb trade, surrounded by the aura of medicinal herbs, mingling with cultivators? Perhaps one day, he’d catch a lucky break, connect with a cultivator, and step onto the immortal path.

Had his talent been better, he might’ve been an inner family cultivator.

After all, the Song Family had nurtured three Golden Core cultivators!

Those three were the Song Family’s foundation in Tianque City. No matter their actions, other families hesitated to cross them.

So when a frantic waiter rushed in, gasping, “Shopkeeper! Trouble! I was fetching water in the back and saw a group charging over, led by the original shop owner!”—catching Song Youyi’s sharp glare, he faltered—“I mean, they’re definitely here to make trouble!”

He urged, “Shopkeeper, prepare! They’re coming around the back—big trouble!”

“Oh?” Song Youyi remained calm, even tempted to ask: How were they dressed? How many men, women? What cultivation levels? Qi Refining layers?

The Song Family had boldly seized this shop after thorough investigation.

The former owner was a poor, low-level Qi Refining cultivator.

When she didn’t show up post-Dragon Boat Secret Realm as expected, Song Youyi wondered if her weak cultivation got her killed in the realm.

If so, it saved him the hassle—a silver lining.

His thoughts churned, but seeing the waiter was a mortal, he lost interest and asked, “Did they bring weapons?”

“Weapons?” The waiter racked his brain, sheepish. “No swords or spears. Bare-handed.”

Song Youyi pressed, “Their attire?”

“Well—” the waiter stammered, “Disheveled, filthy, really dirty.” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

Song Youyi got it.

Probably hired beggars or thugs to stir trouble—a Chen Family tactic to smear rivals. Small shops might buckle, but for a Song Family-backed business, it was nothing.

Calmly, he said, “Send word to the Song Family. Call some warriors to hold the scene.”

The waiter hesitated. His brief glimpse suggested these weren’t ordinary folks, despite their ragged look. “Shopkeeper, maybe call family cultivators. The leader’s a Sword Sect disciple with cultivation. Regular warriors might not cut it.”

Song Youyi pondered. He didn’t think Su Qing was a threat, but if this could connect him to family cultivators, it was worth a shot. He nodded. “Fine. Say it’s troublemakers. Request the outer sect leader personally.”

The outer sect leader, Song Gong, was nearly a half-step Golden Core, commanding a group of cultivators. He trained outer branch kids and handled disputes.

Song Youyi dreamed of currying favor with him, hoping to send his kids to train under him.

This was a perfect chance. Though overkill, if he played it right, he could build a lasting connection.

He was too clever, too opportunistic. Heaven was unfair not to grant him better talent!

The waiter, hearing the outer sect leader was coming, rushed off to deliver the message.

With Song Gong, their guardian, no storm could brew.

Song Youyi entered the backroom, lighting a message incense for Song Gong.

But the visitors arrived faster than expected. He’d barely lit the incense when a deafening crash shook him, heart pounding.

Checking the incense, he straightened his sleeves, coughed twice, and strode out. A worker rushed up. “Shopkeeper, someone’s cursing us out front!”

“Preposterous!” Song Youyi flicked his sleeve, voice booming. “Who dares trouble the Song Family?!”

…

Su Qing followed her third-year senior sisters, storming East Market’s Honey Spirit Tea.

“Storming” wasn’t quite right. Five senior sisters, Su Qing, Jia Song (insisting on witnessing), and Li Ming’en (cheering) made eight—hardly an army.

Yet they carried the aura of an unstoppable force, like a flood or beast horde. Onlookers parted, fearing stray punches.

Midway, the lead senior sister chatted with Su Qing. “Didn’t Zhu Xu teach you how to handle the sect leader?”

Su Qing shook her head. “Never had a chance to meet him before. Second-year seniors are in the realm, so no one taught us.”

The senior sister fumed. “Pity. He’s been living too comfortably.”

Su Qing puzzled over her words as they reached Honey Spirit Tea.

The second senior sister told Su Qing to list the Song Family’s crimes at the door.

But Jia Song cut in. “Wait! I’ll do it! I curse them a hundred times daily in my heart!”

He’d been restraining himself to one rant a day.

The “Song Family Honey Spirit Tea” sign fueled his rage. With backup, he feared nothing.

Su Qing would take any hits—he was short, she’d shield him.

Sleeves flapping, he stood tall, spat at the ground, and bellowed, “Song Youyi, shameless thief! Always sneaking around, doing dirty deeds. You stole our shop! Bah, aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?”

Song Youyi was the shopkeeper’s name. Jia Song cursed him relentlessly, avoiding the Song Family directly.

“Relying on your family’s power, you bribed the deed office to forge documents. How can such a shameless person exist, stealing without spending a thread or coin? You call yourself ‘Youyi’ (Righteous)? You’re unrighteous, shameless, fake, and treacherous!”

His tirade grew fiercer, barely pausing for breath. Su Qing admired his lung capacity as he continued:

“Heaven watches! Under Sword Sect’s nose, you pull these tricks. Today, we’re here to take you down! Come out and face us!”

People—modern, ancient, or in the cultivation world—love drama.

Jia Song’s outburst drew a crowd like fish to bait, especially with the shop already bustling.

Whispers spread. “What’s the fight about? What happened?”

“They say the Song Family stole someone’s business. This wasn’t theirs.”

“What? Really?”

“Seems so. A girl started it, then her male worker took over. It was thriving, but overnight, it became Song Family’s.”

“That’s robbery!”

“Maybe not. They have the deed. Could be a leased shop they reclaimed. Maybe they’re the ones twisting the story!”

The youngest senior sister muttered, “Why’s the Song Family so slow? Not refreshing at all. Let’s just tear the shop down.”

Before Su Qing could speak, the lead senior sister shook her head. “Forgot? It’s our junior sister’s shop. If you wreck it, she pays for repairs.”

“Then just that.” She pointed at the new Song Family Honey Spirit Tea sign.

Su Qing had long despised that sign. With senior sisters backing her, what was there to fear? Here for a fight, she said, “Please, Senior Sister, smash that sign down.” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

“Easy.” The youngest senior sister strode to the shop, reaching up and yanking the sign like it was cloth.

The sign—over three meters long, a meter wide, solid wood with gilded letters—had taken four workers to install. Yet in her hands, it was light as a feather.

Without a shout or visible effort, she pushed, crumpling it into a ball, unrecognizable.

She let go, and the wooden lump crashed to the ground.

Thud!

The crowd fell silent, the air frozen.

The youngest senior sister casually withdrew her hands, ignoring the stunned gasps, as if it had nothing to do with her.

Such immense strength!

Su Qing’s eyes gleamed, gazing at her with fervor. This was the power she dreamed of! Though known for strength among first-years, this third-year senior sister showed her there were greater heights.

With such might, no wonder they could face the sect leader.

Body cultivation—terrifying. She had much to learn.

Song Youyi finally emerged, seeing his sign crumpled and shattered, the “Song Family” characters obliterated. Fury surged. “How dare you?!”

Jia Song, waiting, sneered repeatedly, stabbing at his sore spots. “Song Unrighteous, your day has come!”

Song Youyi, enraged, barked at his workers. “What are you standing for? Get them out!”

The waiters, intimidated by the senior sister’s strength, hesitated. Song Youyi roared, “Want your jobs? Move! Rewards for those who act!”

Spurred, they grabbed sticks and weapons, charging.

Before Su Qing could act, the second senior sister flicked her sleeve. A breeze swept through, sending the attackers flying, tumbling to the ground.

They were just mortals making a living, and she went easy. But they were clever, rolling and wailing, feigning grave injuries.

“…”

If the second senior sister hadn’t known her own restraint, she’d think she’d gone overboard.

Su Qing couldn’t help but smile wryly.

Song Youyi, with some experience, paled, realizing these weren’t ordinary cultivators. Anxiously scanning, he spotted a square-faced man leading over twenty people, their presence stern and menacing. The crowd parted for them.

Song Youyi, overjoyed, shouted, “Outer Sect Leader!”

With Song Gong here, he felt secure, turning to accuse, “These shameless rogues insulted our Song Family! You must teach them a lesson!”

They cut through the crowd like a blade.

Song Gong, the outer sect leader, was broad-browed, muscular, and towering like an iron pillar. His black robe bore the Song Family’s bold totems.

His twenty-plus followers, though less imposing, were all at least Foundation Establishment Early Stage.

Unlike Song Youyi, Song Gong dealt with cultivators regularly and saw these women weren’t ordinary. Their aura was seamless, revealing no cultivation level.

Stepping forward, he locked eyes with the lead senior sister. “Troublemakers should name themselves!”

Unfazed, she declared, “Sword Sect, Sect Leader Wang Quan’s direct disciple—Zhang Han’yi.”

Her words rang out. Su Qing wondered: Is this title real? I’ve never heard of the sect leader having direct disciples.

Song Gong asked, “Sword Sect disciples—what’s your purpose?”

“You know full well,” Zhang Han’yi sneered. “Whose shop did you steal?”

The “direct disciple” title didn’t faze Song Gong, but their strength suggested no easy win. Better to feign compliance and strike back later.

He nodded. “Very well.”

Song Youyi cried, “Outer Sect Leader, no!” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

He didn’t want to lose his foothold before securing connections.

Zhang Han’yi ignored him. “You’ve held this shop a year. Settle the profits.

And robbers don’t just return what they stole—you’ll pay three times over, or this sect leader’s disciple won’t be merciful!”

Not just Song Youyi, but Song Gong’s followers protested. “Leader, no!”

“This tramples Song Family’s honor!”

“Just a rabble, easily crushed. Why let them prattle?”

But their boldness and Sword Sect ties made Song Gong cautious. He couldn’t gauge the “direct disciple” claim’s truth.

His face darkened, thoughts racing, unable to decide.

Zhang Han’yi pressed Su Qing. “Any other demands?”

“An apology!” Su Qing blurted.

The seniors had covered the shop and money. Beyond that, she wanted an apology to her, Jia Song, and Jiang Shuang, with a written vow never to repeat it.

A family representative would do, but Zhang Han’yi escalated. “Heard my junior sister? Send your Song Family head to apologize!”

Su Qing’s eyes widened. The family head apologizing?

Pretty satisfying, haha.

Zhang Han’yi, reading her expression, smiled knowingly. “My junior sister says the apology must be sincere, with gifts, preferably a banquet at Tianxiang Tower.”

“Courting death!” Song Gong’s face twisted, his patience gone. “You dare insult us so?!”

He surged with energy, muscles bulging, veins popping. Charging, his massive fist roared toward Zhang Han’yi’s face, a Foundation Establishment Late Stage aura erupting.

A tiger-shaped shadow roared with his strike.

“Tiger Descends the Mountain—!”

Zhang Han’yi didn’t move. The youngest senior sister, excited, stepped forward.

“Fancy nonsense.” She clenched her fist, meeting his attack head-on. “Try my bare fist!”

Her move was simple: legs bent, shoulders squared, palm down, fingers tight, no illusions or effects—just a punch.

The crowd held their breath.

As fists collided, a wild gust surged. The tiger shadow shattered, Song Gong’s fist trembled, and he flew back like a snapped bamboo, crashing through the shop door, bouncing off the wall, and rolling to a stop.

His followers rushed to him. “Leader! Leader!”

Spitting blood, Song Gong gasped, “Trouble—Golden Core stage. Send word, call the family head!”

The family head, a Golden Core Late Stage master, would handle them.

Zhang Han’yi chided, “Didn’t you say it’s our junior sister’s shop? Break it, and she pays for repairs.”

The youngest senior sister scratched her head. “Got carried away.”

The remaining cultivators, seeing their leader injured, charged with artifacts, all at least Foundation Establishment Early Stage.

One senior sister stepped in front of Su Qing. “Junior sister, step back.”

Su Qing, heart racing, calmed herself. “I’ve never fought a Foundation Establishment. I want to try.”

“Leave one for you,” the senior sister said, like picking cabbage at a market. “Which one?”

Su Qing picked. “The fastest one. Looks easier to hit.”

The senior sister flicked her sleeve, isolating him. Another flick sent the rest flying like a tidal wave.

The lone charger, shouting, realized mid-sprint his allies were gone.

What was the point? Was he rushing to die?

His slogan stopped, knees buckling, he turned to flee. The crowd booed.

“Running too fast!”

“Momentum’s there, you gotta fight!”

He gritted his teeth—easy for them to say, they weren’t getting beaten!

Su Qing summoned Man Qing Sword, chasing. At Qi Refining Layer Six against Foundation Establishment Early Stage, holding back was suicide.

She gathered energy, purple qi bursting from Man Qing Sword.

Its recoil propelled her behind him. Muscles tensed, waist twisted, purple qi exploded again, pushing her and the heavy sword into a 360-degree horizontal slash, slamming him down.

Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment had a clear power gap.

She held back, targeting his waist, non-lethal.

He crashed, bounced, disbelief in his eyes. Defeated by a Qi Refining cultivator.

Humiliation!

Zhang Han’yi found it amusing. “Not your average Qi Refining. Fast and ruthless.”

Foundation Establishment wasn’t easy. Spitting blood, he rose, launching a vicious Tiger Claw attack.

Su Qing blocked calmly with her sword.

Zhang Han’yi advised, “Hit his lower body!”

Su Qing kicked Man Qing Sword, striking his knee.

The second senior sister said, “His waist is weak—seal his acupoints.”

Su Qing tapped his waist twice, stiffening him.

The third said, “Bind his hands! Block his fists!”

Su Qing twisted his arms back, pinning them with her sword.

The fourth warned, “Watch for sneak attacks—kick his storage bag away!”

Su Qing caught a hidden dart, snatching his storage bag and stowing it.

The youngest senior sister cheered, “Good! Finish him while he’s down!”

Man Qing Sword pulsed, purple qi surging, pinning him face-down, limbs bound, unable to resist. He wailed, “No outside coaching!”

Su Qing blinked, realizing, “I won?”

Stammering, “Foundation Establishment—I, I won?”

“You won!”

“You beat him!”

“Qi Refining over Foundation Establishment—congratulations on your cross-tier victory!”

Confirmed by her seniors, Su Qing gripped Man Qing Sword, blood boiling, cheeks flushed.

Li Ming’en, covering her mouth, jumped. She knew Su Qing was the best.

A dark cloud loomed, and a black figure landed like a meteor.

The Golden Core Late Stage Song Family head unleashed his overwhelming pressure, voice icy with rage. “Who dares cause trouble at my Song Family? Name yourselves!”

His cultivators teared up. “Family Head!”

“Get us justice!”

“They’ve gone too far!”

His pressure made Su Qing’s throat bleed, face pale. The second senior sister shielded her with a sleeve, easing her.

Zhang Han’yi, unfazed, smiled calmly. “Song Family Head? Just a humble Sword Sect direct disciple of Sect Leader Wang Quan—Zhang Han’yi.”

His Golden Core Late Stage senses, sharper than Song Gong’s, saw she was also Golden Core Late Stage.

Having honed his stage for years, he feared no ordinary peer.

Then he scanned the other four.

Golden Core.

Golden Core.

Golden Core.

Golden Core.

Five Golden Cores?!

Since when were Golden Cores so common? A market stall of cabbages?

Why bother fighting? Courting death?

Forcing a smile uglier than a grimace, he said, “What brings Sect Leader Wang’s direct disciple to my Song Family? If we can assist, we’ll spare no effort.”