The Sect Leader System-Chapter 332: Take Out the Trash

With the Qi Gathering portion of the Quinquennial Tournament officially in the history books as of earlier that morning, Benton’s next task was to attend a briefing at the Poison Claw Sect. He Teleported to Kang Ya-Ting’s study and found both him and Elder Dai waiting.

“How livid is the JCSB alliance?” Benton said once greetings were out of the way.

Kang Ya-Ting grinned. “Mao Biya is beyond frustrated. She openly disparages you, your sect, the Poison Claw Sect, and, best of all, the City Lord and his representatives. In public no less.” 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

It seemed that Benton’s over-the-top acting and displays of friendship toward the clan had worked. Maybe he should have the troupe’s first movie feature him in the lead.

He shuddered, remembering exactly how bad he was when he presented the sword to Qiu ZhenKang. Or not.

Still, Benton couldn’t help but pat himself on the back for both that move and for his open display of friendship with the Gao Clan. He said as much.

“That tactic worked quite well initially,” Elder Dai said. “You do have much to be proud about. However, once it became clear that all your sect members were Body Cultivators as well, Teng Wuying calmed his ally down quite a bit.”

“But I thought Friend Kang said it worked?”

“He said that Mao Biya is extremely upset, which she is. The reason, though, is due to how well your sect has performed so far overall in the tournament, not because of the bit of theater regarding the clan.”

Benton frowned. “But we haven’t even won anything yet.”

The two Poison Claw Sect elders shared a glance.

“Four top ten finishes is no small accomplishment, Friend Su. No small sect or clan has ever placed in the top five, and your sect did it in both Alchemy and Blacksmithing.”

Benton scoffed. “Barely top five. Both Xun Wu and Wan Ai literally got fifth.”

“It’s never been done, Sect Leader,” Elder Dai said. “Besides, the real accomplishment, at least from Mao Biya’s perspective, was you having two of your members make the final ten in the martial division. She couldn’t care less about crafting, but she respects martial prowess. Your two juniors finishing so high has her ready to spit nails.”

Benton was, of course, proud of Huang Yimun and Zi Delan, as he was of all his sect members. They’d worked hard, walked into that arena, and done their best. Which was all he asked of any of them. But…

“It’s hard to feel like we accomplished much compared to the might of the Poison Claw Sect,” Benton said. “Your members won the Qi Gathering division for both Formations and Blacksmithing and had a minimum of three members finish in the top ten for every contest. Well done!”

The two elders shared another glance, and whereas he’d gotten pretty good at interpreting what the twins communicated with such actions, that ability apparently didn’t translate to Kang Ya-Ting and Dai Shuren.

“We expected that level of performance, Friend Su. Every tournament, it’s the same—the big three competing against each other to see who can do the best. You have to understand the advantages we have, starting with tens of thousands of members and recruiting only the best of the best. We take in more recruits each year than your entire sect has members. And that’s not even taking into account talent. Few of the contestants you put forward would have even been invited to attempt to join a big three sect. The level of success the Rising Tide has achieved so far has left all of us stunned, and you still have your two most talented members left to go.”

Benton took a moment to digest Kang Ya-Ting’s statement. It was kind of like the Rising Tide Sect was a small college whose football team had somehow found itself in the playoffs against SEC and Big Ten teams. Then, instead of getting blown off the field in the first round, they’d actually made it to the finals. Sure, they didn’t win, but simply not getting annihilated was an accomplishment in and of itself.

When he thought about it that way, the elders’ opinion made sense. He cupped his hands to acknowledge his acceptance of their compliments.

“One of my most talented disciples, though, is actually competing for your team,” Benton said. “Personally, I can’t wait to see how Kang Lin does.”

One of the reasons that he got along so well with Kang Ya-Ting was that they shared a kindred spirit as proud grandparents.

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“This old man expects her to perform adequately.” The huge grin that split the elder’s face belied his humble words regarding his granddaughter.

They talked for a while longer, but the upshot of the meeting was that the Rising Tide Sect members’ performance was so good that it caused their enemies—Mao Biya, anyway—great distress. Anytime you could put an opponent off their game, it could lead to them making mistakes, and Benton would take any advantage he could get to keep his kids safe.

Teng Wuying walked to yet another tea shop for yet another meeting with Mao Biya. By that point, they might as well proclaim their alliance to all the world for all that it was supposed to remain a secret.

Still, there was value in not making an official announcement. Preserving the fiction that it might not exist left some doubt in their enemies’ minds as to when or if an attack might be made. Of course, not broadcasting the alliance also gave his allies a chance to back out, but he didn’t think that was a realistic concern. Mao Biya was more committed than even he was, if for the wrong reasons.

People consumed by intense emotions were quite annoying for a rational person to deal with, but their lack of control made them so, so easy to manipulate.

He arrived at the shop, as usual, fifteen minutes early, taking care to soundproof the booth with an array and to check the surroundings for any invisible observers. With none detected, he sat to wait. And wait. And wait.

Twenty minutes after the meeting was supposed to begin, Mao Biya stormed in. She sat without a word of apology for her tardiness, her face showing clear agitation.

“At your advice,” she practically yelled, “I set myself in opposition to that man, and I’ve suffered nothing but humiliation after humiliation. He threatened my sect. He made of mockery of my announced intention to limit his gains at the auction. He killed one of my Golden Cores. Killed. After torturing her. He gave us no face. And what did I do about any of it? Nothing. I simply sat there as two of his trash peasants were allowed on stage as if they deserved to be there alongside my sect members. This cannot stand.”

Teng Wuying held his tongue but barely. He was the one to warn her against the attempt at manipulating the auction, the one who tried to prevent her from sending a Golden Core against Chao Su’s juniors. Her setbacks were due entirely to her refusal to listen.

Though the Jade Chameleon Sect and hers were natural allies—both valuing martial might over all other facets of cultivation—Teng Wuying personally would have been better suited for membership in another faction. The Poison Claw Sect valued crafters as much as fighters. A clerk was more likely to be respected and ascend the ranks in the Emperor’s faction than was a soldier. Even the Rising Tide Sect granted much respect to the sect leader’s assistant.

Would that Teng Wuying’s muscle-brained family hadn’t thrown in their lot so long ago with others of their ilk.

He was close to realizing all his dreams, though. So close. With his skill at convincing people to act as he wanted combined with the favors that would be owed him for granting access to that miracle Trials Pagoda, no one on the entire continent would dare disrespect him ever again.

All he had to do was stay the course. Keep Mao Biya on board. Ambush the Rising Tide Sect leader. And all Teng Wuying’s ambitions would be realized.

She was too incensed to listen to reason, though, so his usual method of calming her was unlikely to work. Time to take things in the opposite direction.

“You’re right,” he said. “It cannot stand, and it will not stand. At the conclusion of the low Foundation Establishment division matches, the ambush will take place. We will kill him and the entirety of his so-called sect. You can personally execute the two pieces of trash who dared stand on stage with true cultivators.”

He put a lot of vehemence into his tone, and for a moment, she was taken aback. She recovered quickly, though.

“I am glad to hear you say that, but it’s not enough,” she said. “I want his prize disciples humiliated in the tournament, not just killed later.”

“I’m listening.”

Mao Biya smiled. “Let me manipulate the brackets. The two brats, being A rank talents, will have a bye through the first two rounds. I’ll stack it so that they’ll each meet a perfect counter in their very first contest. Their sect members will see their precious Senior Sister and Senior Brother taken out like the trash they are.”

Teng Wuying’s political capital was diminishing by the day, especially given how much Mao Biya was openly badmouthing the City Lord and his representative, but there was enough left to make some minor modifications to the tournament lineup. So the question wasn’t if her request could be accommodated but whether it should be.

Keeping Mao Biya happy—or at least tempering her bloodlust—was a valid objective, but Teng Wuying didn’t know how Chao Su would react to having his favorites embarrassed in front of everyone. He might pull the entire sect from the tournament and go home, leaving no opportunity for the ambush. After all, he only had one other person—a little girl named Jin LiJuan—scheduled to compete after the low Foundation Establishment division was complete.

Of course, that outcome assumed that Mao Biya could somehow outwit Chao Su, a powerful, sophisticated opponent, someone who was constantly enacting flawless plans and contingencies. Someone who never made a single misstep.

He was a worthy foe, one who could only be defeated by being outmaneuvered. The man was a worthy nemesis for Teng Wuying. The possibility of a brute like Mao Biya besting such a masterful opponent was impossible.

Yes. Teng Wuying would let her have her futile attempt, making her grateful and keeping her on board. When she failed, it would only make her even more dedicated to the ambush.

Besides, her machinations might actually be for the good. If nothing else, it would provide a distraction.

Honestly, Teng Wuying would much rather wait until the end of the tournament to attack due almost solely to how much more elegant that time would appear. The problem was how to keep the Rising Tide Sect in Sixth Flawless Flowing City for so long.

If only he’d already put into motion a contingency that served just that purpose.

Oh wait. He had.

“Absolutely,” he said. “We’ll crush them, wad them up, and toss them away like the trash they are.”