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020 Three Strikes Again?
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 10:10:44 +0000 UTCJiang Zhen studied me, his dark eyes deep and unreadable beneath the shadow of his brow. The disguise of a simple goldfish vendor was gone, but he still wore the same earth-toned robes of a common peddler. Yet his presence had changed entirely.
Before, he had seemed like just another old man in the marketplace—eccentric, perhaps, but ultimately unremarkable. Now, he stood like an immovable mountain, exuding an effortless authority honed by years of power.
The white in his hair had receded, streaks of black returning as if time itself bowed before him. A neatly trimmed beard framed his sharp jawline, lending him the air of a reclusive master—one who had long withdrawn from the world, only to resurface when the moment demanded it.
Unfortunately for him, I had ruined his grand reveal with a single skill.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, let me be certain I understand. You wish for me to vouch for this girl—who cultivates a demonic technique—before the Isolation Path Sect. And in return, you offer me a Phoenix Feather.”
I inclined my head. “That is the arrangement.”
His gaze flickered to Gu Jie. She tensed beneath his scrutiny, clearly unused to such piercing attention—especially from someone who could end her with a mere thought.
Jiang Zhen hummed thoughtfully. “The Sect does possess methods to refine demonic techniques, but such knowledge is not given freely. Even among our own, only a select few may access it.”
“Which is why I require your assistance,” I said.
A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. “And if I refuse?”
I twirled the Phoenix Feather between my fingers. “Then I will be forced to pursue… other methods.”
His eyes narrowed. “Such as?”
I met his gaze without hesitation. “Letting her die and reviving her until we find a solution.”
Jiang Zhen blinked. “Is that even possible?” Then, for the first time since our conversation began, he let out a low chuckle. “Hah… you are serious.”
I shrugged. “It is not my preferred course of action, but I am not above it. Plan A is your recommendation. Plan B is extreme. Plan C… I cast Divine Word: Life on her every day and hope something changes.”
His laughter faded, his gaze now tinged with curiosity. “And you truly believe that will work?”
I did not answer immediately. Instead, I glanced at Gu Jie. She returned my gaze, her expression conflicted—hope warring with apprehension.
“…It must.”
Plan A was simple: secure the old man’s recommendation. If my reading of Jiang Zhen’s strength was accurate, he probably held influence. With an intermediary like him, our chances of convincing the Isolation Path Sect to aid Gu Jie would increase significantly.
Plan B… was far riskier. If the Sect refused or things turned hostile, Gu Jie would have to die—either by my hand or theirs. Then, I’d use the Phoenix Feather on her, hoping it would reset her physique or undo whatever damage had been done. If that failed, I had other means—resurrection techniques, rare artifacts, whatever it took. It would be costly, painful, and require her unwavering resolve, but as long as she was willing to endure death, I would not abandon her.
Kindness was a rare and costly thing, no matter the world.
It was an extreme measure, but sooner or later, it would work.
After all, I possessed a certain absurd item—one created by the game devs as a last resort for players who regretted their class choices. If you died a thousand times, it allowed you to reset your class. A cruel joke, meant to punish the desperate, but in this case? It might just be the key to salvation.
Plan C was the last resort. The one we would turn to if Gu Jie lost her will to continue, or if all else failed.
Plan C was despair incarnate.
It was painfully simple: cast Divine Word: Life on her every single day.
The problem?
I could only invoke Divine Word once per day. Using it on her meant I would forfeit it in any emergency. It would drain my strength, my resources, and, worst of all, it wasn’t even guaranteed to work.
Plan C was nothing more than a slow death disguised as hope. A desperate gamble that if she cultivated long enough, her condition would somehow improve. But the truth was cruel—her damaged body would forever shackle her potential. No matter how diligently she trained, she would never reach her past cultivation again.
Plan C was unacceptable.
Jiang Zhen narrowed his eyes, fingers idly stroking his beard as he studied the feather in my grasp. “Hmmm… how many of these do you possess?”
I clenched the Phoenix Feather between my fingers. “Even if I had more, do you think I would part with them so easily?”
Phoenix Feathers weren’t exactly the rarest of resurrection items at my level, but they were still valuable. In Lost Legends Online, a Phoenix Feather restored a player at thirty percent health, granted a temporary vitality buff, and infused their attacks with fire for a short time.
Convenient, yet ultimately impractical. A mere halfway measure.
Still, it didn’t mean the item was unpopular to players. After all, we had nearly driven the Phoenix to extinction once upon a time.
Most players preferred alternatives—Resurrection Elixirs, Immortal Fire, Ambrosia—each layered with superior healing effects and blessings.
Jiang Zhen’s lips curled into a knowing grin, like a cat toying with an oblivious mouse.
“How about this? Three times.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“I will give you three chances to strike me. I won’t move. If you manage to impress me, then fine—I will arrange a meeting with the Isolation Path Sect for you.” His grin widened. “But if you lose? That Phoenix Feather will be mine.”
I stared at him, deadpan. Was this divine retribution? Karma? A cosmic joke at my expense?
Because I had pulled this exact same stunt yesterday with a certain arrogant young master.
I sighed. The old bastard was toying with me, squeezing out every last bit of profit from this deal. I could already see where this was going—if I failed, he’d extort another Phoenix Feather or some other treasure before finally making the introduction.
Classic old master nonsense.
Still, the fact that he was so confident meant one of two things: either he was unfathomably strong, or he was an absolute fool. And in a world like this, the latter was unlikely. In the cultivation world, power was everything—hierarchy, status, influence. The strong dictated the rules, and the weak obeyed.
Of course, there was always the slim chance that he was some eccentric recluse, cosplaying as a goldfish vendor for amusement… but my instincts told me otherwise.
I needed confirmation.
“Are you a local?” I asked, watching his reaction carefully.
Jiang Zhen tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “Yes, I am.”
Good. That meant he wasn’t some wandering hermit with no stake in this city. His word would carry weight here. It would have been troublesome if he were just another rogue cultivator passing through.
I pressed further. “What’s your affiliation?”
Jiang Zhen chuckled. “I have nothing to hide,” he said smoothly. “But I won’t tell you… because I want to see you squirm.”
I clicked my tongue. “Of course you do.”
Fine. If he wouldn’t tell me, I’d find out another way.
I turned to Gu Jie. “Have you heard of Jiang Zhen?”
She blinked, confused, before shaking her head. “No, Master.”
At that, Jiang Zhen let out a slow, almost imperceptible sigh of relief.
…Why?
His name wasn’t widely known, but he let out such a reaction. Why? That was strange. If he was a major figure, someone like Gu Jie should have at least recognized his name. Yet the moment she denied knowing him, he visibly relaxed.
Suspicious.
But fine. I’d play along.“Let’s do it your way,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “But not here.”
Jiang Zhen smirked. “Of course. I’m not an idiot.”
Debatable.
I turned to Gu Jie. “No need to follow. Go enjoy the festival.”
She bowed. “Yes, Master.”
Jiang Zhen tilted his chin in a lazy gesture. “Keep up.”
And then he vanished.
I didn’t hesitate. Zealot’s Stride had cooled down, so I activated it again. A faint golden glow outlined my legs, and radiant footprints trailed behind me before fading into nothingness. I shot forward, matching Jiang Zhen’s blinding pace as we left the crowded streets of Yellow Dragon City behind.
The festival lights dimmed in the distance as we pushed past the outskirts, moving beyond civilization and into a wide, dirt-laden expanse between a mountain and a dense forest. The air here was crisp, untouched by city life, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.
Jiang Zhen finally stopped. I halted a short distance away, planting my feet firmly on the ground.
The old man studied me, stroking his beard in contemplation. “Interesting movement technique,” he muttered. “I didn’t detect its usage the first time… Hmmm… subdued qi… It resembles a Buddhist technique.”
I huffed. “I’m neither a Buddhist nor a monk.”
That was mildly amusing. He was interpreting my mana as qi, wasn’t he?
I had no idea how this world actually defined qi. Maybe it was just an analog for mana—a different way of conceptualizing the same energy. Or maybe they were entirely distinct forces. Either way, it didn’t matter right now.
Still, something nagged at me. A small curiosity I wanted to confirm.
“What do you think my realm is?”
Jiang Zhen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Your qi is murky and subdued, like a mortal’s,” he admitted. “So I can’t see into your cultivation level. But considering you kept up with me… we must be in the same realm.”
I noted his careful wording. He was cautious—didn’t commit to a direct answer.
But he did confirm something: qi and mana were fundamentally different. Whatever system he used to gauge cultivation levels wasn’t picking up on me properly.
That was good.
I rolled my shoulders, loosening up. “Just to set things straight,” I said, locking eyes with Jiang Zhen, “if you move even a little, that counts as my win. I can’t have you claiming that my performance wasn’t impressive enough after forcing you to react. That’d just be petty.”
Jiang Zhen chuckled. “I’m not so childish as to do something like that.”
I squinted at him. “I don’t know about that..”
He ignored me, stroking his beard. “Before we start, mind if I ask a question?”
I sighed. “What is it?”
His expression turned more serious. “When did you see through my stealth technique?”
I arched a brow. “Huh?”
“I take pride in my stealth arts,” he clarified. “So when exactly did you figure me out?”
I smirked. “Around the third time I lost your stupid arcade game.”
Jiang Zhen blinked. “...How?”
I shrugged. “Because I have eyes.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then I added, “And I never fail to get what I want by the third try.”
Jiang Zhen rubbed his temples. “You’re insufferable.”
I grinned. “Shall we begin?”
