Chapter 105: Starting From A Huge Disadvantage
“What do you mean by that?”
John asked puzzledly: “This is just an ordinary hoe, what kind of bond is there?”
Jiang Ce blinked: “I see you’re completely clueless, huh?”
“Clueless about what?”
“Tsk.” Jiang Ce was skeptical, made a finger gun gesture with his hand, aimed it at John, but the latter was still full of confusion and didn’t instinctively raise his hands in surrender as Jiang Ce had imagined.
“Hiss, could it really be that the bloodline hasn’t awakened?”
“What bloodline? That’s all superficiality. Only one’s own effort is the real deal.”
John had no idea what Jiang Ce was mumbling on about, so he simply stopped paying attention.
He only knew that he was currently the top Sixth Rank of the Celestial Master’s Mansion, and he would win this match beautifully with his own hands.
Seeing how motivated he was, Jiang Ce felt relieved.
To be honest, he didn’t want to lift a finger if he didn’t have to. Anyway, the Old Celestial Master said that if the Daoist Sect wins, there would be a Five Thunder Pill, and it didn’t say he had to exert himself.
Under the premise of an already promised reward, rushing to do the work—wouldn’t that make him a total sucker?
So while more than a dozen Daoist Sect disciples were rubbing their fists and making final preparations, Jiang Ce had already slumped in his chair, planning to watch the show.
He wasn’t worried about winning or losing. He had even fused one of the Gluttonous Ghost’s Ghost Disciples himself; for such a character to appear in this match would already be impressive.
But after so many days, he had comprehensively strengthened himself a lot, and now with dwarf technology’s compressed spiritual medicine, he could maintain full status at all times, so even if another such figure appeared, he was still very confident.
As long as he waited until the Daoist Sect side really couldn’t hold on before stepping in to send charcoal in the snow and turn the tide, that result would have the most weight.
Not long after, the Old Celestial Master announced the start of the match.
From the Daoist Sect side, a Daoist Priest from some unknown sect stepped out to test the waters.
The Buddhist Sect side probably had the same idea and sent out a very ordinary-looking Monk to meet him.
Both sides assumed positions and fought fiercely with their signature skills.
The Daoist Priest here flung out a talisman, the Monk there immediately threw his Vajra Bowl to suppress it, then chanted Buddhist Scriptures and struck with a palm. The Daoist Priest countered accordingly, first dodging the palm wind, then issuing a decree that made the ground tremble; soil broke through the venue’s stone slabs and surged toward the Monk.
The Monk was no slouch either. Missing the first strike, he immediately unleashed a second, slamming the ground and using brute force to push back the soil flood.
After several exchanges, neither gained the upper hand; it ended in a draw.
But for an ordinary Sixth Rank Jianghu sorcerer, even if considered elite in their sect, who could master multiple sorceries in a short time like Jiang Ce?
So after exhausting all their usable moves, the two started over from the beginning.
Jiang Ce lost interest watching and yawned boredly, muttering: “Isn’t this just like pulling hair?”
John had a sharp eye too and immediately saw that victory depended on which side depleted their spiritual energy first.
He suddenly grew worried: “Daoist Sect sorcery is grand and sweeping, while Buddhist Sect sorcery during the Jianghu sorcerer stage leans more toward body refinement, consuming less than ours. If it keeps being like this, the outlook isn’t good.
At least this match looks tough.”
The situation unfolded much as he predicted; not long after, the Daoist Priest ran out of stamina and lost.
Though the Monk was also heavily drained, he still had some reserves left and fought another round, costing the Daoist Sect’s second fighter a lot of stamina.
Roughly speaking, one Monk could take out more than one Daoist Priest.
The situation was extremely dire.
Jiang Ce considered sharing some compressed spiritual medicine, but then he remembered even the Old Celestial Master had briefly fallen for it; for these minor Daoist Priests, it would probably count as deadly poison.
So he dropped the idea.
When another Daoist Priest was about to step up, John stopped him.
His face was solemn: “I’ll go.”
“No.” That Daoist Priest, wearing Maoshan Daoist robes, frowned and shook his head: “You’re the strongest among us. You need to wait until the end to act. They’re probably thinking the same, saving their heavy hitters for last while others wear them down first.
If you act now, you’ll fall right into their trap.”
John’s expression darkened; he could accept the first loss since that Daoist Priest had merely exhausted himself, but the next few had actually been injured.
It left a bad taste in his mouth. He felt that having the ability yet not stepping up in their place, holding back until the end, went against his forward-charging, obstacle-cutting spirit of progress.
The Maoshan Daoist Priest, after speaking, ignored John’s reaction and strode out firmly.
His gaze was extremely resolute, his steps steadier than ever.
Because he knew this wasn’t just a one-on-one duel or a test of brute strength, but an important, honorable battle for the Daoist Sect’s future. Though reluctant and unwilling to admit weakness, he still did it, leaving the chance to decide victory to others—to those capable of achieving the Daoist Sect’s common goal!
Five minutes later, Jiang Ce squatted beside this Maoshan Daoist Priest, smiling: “Still pretending to be cool?”
Maoshan excelled in sorcery, but the brute opposite didn’t give him a chance to cast, rushing up for close-quarters brawling. The Maoshan Daoist Priest held out only briefly before his arm was broken, losing combat ability.
He grimaced in pain but still mustered his strength to look at John: “The rest is up to you all. I did my best.”
Jiang Ce stood up, thoughtfully saying: “No wonder no one plays mages anymore. Warriors stacked with Conqueror can flat-out A people to death with basic attacks, tsk tsk.”
John didn’t hear Jiang Ce’s muttering but sighed looking at the remaining Daoist Priests who could still fight.
Though they were elites, they were no match at all for those Buddhist Sect brutes.
Fundamentally, it was a system issue. If they reached Heaven-Reaching Dharma Master, Daoist Cultivators could summon clouds with a flip of the hand and rain with another, casually unleashing terrifying sorcery—flashy, elegant, and immensely powerful.
Most importantly, Daoist Cultivators’ attunement to heaven and earth slightly surpassed other cultivators of the Great Dao, as they advocated clarity and inaction, aligning with heavenly rules, naturally fostering greater affinity.
But the Jianghu sorcerer stage was particularly awkward: their bodies couldn’t match Buddhist Cultivators, physical attacks couldn’t match Martial Artists, spiritual energy reserves couldn’t match Confucian Cultivators. They could only bully ghosts and monsters, thanks to deep foundations and all sorts of fancy, bizarre training methods.
For example, cultivating Daoism is like studying civil engineering: tough early on, but once certified with seniority, it gets smoother and smoother—a late-game Great Dao with the highest ceiling and lowest floor.
The key is, most Daoist Cultivators croak before reaching Heaven-Reaching Dharma Master.
“I’ll go.” John felt a surge of helplessness.
Even if I’m stronger than all of you, how much stronger can I really be?
Doesn’t the Buddhist Sect have secret weapons too?
He looked solemnly at Jiang Ce: “I’ll try to take down as many as I can. The rest is up to you.”
Among the other Daoist Sect participants, he knew Jiang Ce the most. Though his Master Zhang Ze Xing hadn’t said it outright, he had hinted that Jiang Ce was the Old Celestial Master’s ace in the hole.
The others had never heard their sects mention Jiang Ce. Seeing John, treated as the savior, so solemnly entrusting him to Jiang Ce, though they said nothing, they were all suspicious and puzzled inside.
In their eyes, Jiang Ce was just an unremarkable, unknown-door unknown-sect Sixth Rank Daoist Cultivator.
Jiang Ce nodded and cautioned: “Be careful, nephew.”
John’s face darkened twice, and he turned to walk out.
The others were stunned: “What did you call him?”
“Nephew.” Jiang Ce answered righteously.
“You are…” they asked cautiously.
Everyone then realized they had never figured out the background of this suddenly appeared teammate.
Jiang Ce said seriously: “I’m the Old Celestial Master’s Disciple. I used to be a hitman, killing fish at Walmart for three years. The Old Celestial Master saw my exceptional sword technique, redeemed me, and took me as his disciple, hoping I could carry forward the Celestial Master’s Mansion’s Sword Technique.”
Got a bit of a cold today, feeling uncomfortable all over, word count might be a tad short. Will ramp up in a couple days once better; second chapter still writing, posting later.
