Gao Jie stared at the face before him, confusion flickering through his eyes.
Not long ago, Bai Yuan had thoughtfully sent him a full set of Tales of Dao Xuan Tianzun, Exterminator of Demons in comic form. At first, Gao Jie had not been interested. Scholarly books were not his thing. But these were different. They were full of pictures. Even someone with his limited literacy could understand the story just by looking.
Whenever he felt bored, he would casually flip through them, treating them as nothing more than illustrated folk tales. They were good enough to kill time.
Over time, he had read the entire collection from beginning to end.
Because of that, the appearance of Dao Xuan Tianzun was already deeply familiar to him.
And now, as he looked at Li Daoxuan's real face, a strange sense of disorientation rose in his heart.
Xing Shi noticed her husband's expression at once. She knew his temper too well. Afraid that he might say something offensive, she quickly leaned closer and lowered her voice.
"My husband," she whispered urgently, "you do not have to worship the gods, but you absolutely must not disrespect them. Please, watch your words."
Gao Jie had been just about to explode. His wife's warning cut through his anger and pulled him back to his senses. He forced himself to hold it in, though his tone was still sharp and hostile.
"And who are you supposed to be?" he snapped. "What right do you have to lecture me?"
From the crowd gathered along the street, someone suddenly spoke up.
"That is Dao Xuan Tianzun himself," the man said, his voice filled with awe and caution. "He has descended to walk among mortals. General, you should be careful."
Gao Jie froze.
Who would believe something like that?
He sneered inwardly. Impossible. This had to be someone who simply looked like Dao Xuan Tianzun. Or maybe the people who painted those pictures had used this man as their model.
A god descending into the mortal world was nothing but nonsense.
His thoughts were still in turmoil when Li Daoxuan spoke.
"Those who rise from humble origins often carry a certain wildness," Li Daoxuan said calmly. "Without that edge, you would never have dared to rebel in the first place. But General, you should also be aware of your many flaws. If you do not correct them, you will never truly rise. No matter how high your rank becomes, others will still look down on you. Even your children will suffer because of it."
These words were not spoken lightly.
In history, Gao Jie would indeed command massive armies and become one of the Four Great Generals of the Southern Ming. Yet despite his power, he would always be despised.
After his death, Xing Shi would seek out Shi Kefa, hoping to have her son adopted. She wanted to give her child a respectable foster father.
Shi Kefa, however, looked down on Gao Jie's origins. He saw the boy as the son of a crude bandit and firmly refused.
Was Shi Kefa wrong? Of course he was. For the sake of the nation, he should have put aside personal prejudice and gathered every usable talent.
But blaming Shi Kefa alone did not solve the root of the problem.
If one wanted respect, one first had to earn it.
People often said that heroes were not judged by their origins. But that only applied if you truly became a hero. If you were merely powerful and brutal, then your humble background would be dragged out and mocked again and again.
Take Zhu Yuanzhang as an example. He was born poor, yet later generations praised him endlessly. His background became proof of his resilience and determination.
Li Zicheng, on the other hand, also rose from obscurity. But he failed. His peasant origins were instead cited as evidence of the supposed limits of common folk.
It was not just a matter of winners writing history.
Zhu Yuanzhang studied tirelessly and constantly improved himself. Li Zicheng never did. Even after sitting on the throne, he never shed his bandit habits.
Li Daoxuan's thoughts wandered for a moment before he pulled them back.
He looked at Gao Jie and smiled.
It was a strange smile, unsettling and unnatural, the kind that made people instinctively uneasy.
"Gao Jie," Li Daoxuan said, "let's make a bet."
That smile sent a chill through Gao Jie's spine.
"What kind of bet?" he asked cautiously.
"I will stand right here," Li Daoxuan replied. "I will not dodge. I will not block. You may strike me ten times. If you knock me down, I will stop forcing Fan Shangzheng to tutor you. But if you fail, you will obediently return to your studies."
The moment he finished speaking, Gao Jie, Xing Shi, Cao Wenzhao, and Cao Bianjiao all sucked in a sharp breath.
This kind of wager was absurd.
Was this not a gift handed directly to Gao Jie?
Although Gao Jie was not famous for refined martial skill like the Cao uncle and nephew, and could not compare to the madman He Renlong, he was still a veteran of countless battles.
One punch, if aimed properly, could easily kill a man.
To stand still and take ten punches without defending himself was suicidal.
Gao Jie stared at him in disbelief. "Are you trying to die?"
Li Daoxuan kept smiling.
"If you kill me," he said lightly, "then you will never have to attend lessons again. Isn't that exactly what you want? Go on. Try."
He then raised his voice so that everyone around could hear.
"Everyone listen," Li Daoxuan announced. "Gao Jie and I have agreed on a wager. I will allow him ten punches. If he knocks me down, he is free from all future lessons. If he fails, he will return to studying. He claims to be a hero of the martial world. Surely he would not go back on his word in front of so many people."
By now, a large crowd had gathered.
As soon as the people heard this, laughter broke out everywhere.
The citizens of Luoyang had personally witnessed the divine miracles of Dao Xuan Tianzun during the Great Locust Plague. His strength needed no explanation.
They began to tease Gao Jie openly.
"General, you look like a man of honor. You would not deny your word, would you?"
"General, don't cry injustice when you lose."
"General, have you thought about how you plan to admit defeat later?"
Mockery echoed from all sides.
Gao Jie felt a deep sense of unease.
What was wrong with these people?
He was an imperial officer. Ordinary citizens should tremble at the sight of him. Yet not only did they show no fear, they openly ridiculed him.
Were they really that certain he would lose?
Something was very wrong.
Even so, he had no way out.
Refusing to strike now would be even more humiliating.
He clenched his fists, each one as large as an upturned bowl.
"Fine," he growled. "I will strike."
Li Daoxuan beckoned casually. "Come."
He waved Gao Yiye aside, slipped his hands into his pockets, and stood with his feet slightly apart, completely relaxed.
Gao Jie's anger flared.
"If you truly possess techniques like Golden Bell Shield or Iron Cloth Shirt," he said harshly, "you should take a proper stance. What is the meaning of standing there like that? Are you mocking me?"
Li Daoxuan replied smoothly, in a tone that sounded oddly modern.
"That year, with my hands in my pockets, I found no equal."
Gao Jie roared and charged forward.
His punch shot out like an arrow, aimed straight at Li Daoxuan's abdomen.
He held back slightly. He had no intention of killing him.
The fist struck true.
Li Daoxuan did not move at all.
At first, Gao Jie felt soft flesh beneath his knuckles. Then, in the next instant, it was as if he had punched solid iron.
Bone, but harder than any bone he had ever felt.
A dull thud echoed.
Gao Jie let out a muffled groan and staggered backward, clutching his fist. Pain shot up his arm, and his eyes widened in shock.