Chapter 990: Let's Make a Bet
Gao Jie stared at the face, a flicker of confusion clouding his gaze.
Not long ago, Bai Yuan had thoughtfully sent him a collection of "Tales of Heavenly Lord Dao Xuan, Exterminator of Demons" in the form of comic books. Initially, Gao Jie had no interest, but these weren't like scholarly tomes; they were all pictures. Even a man of his limited literacy could grasp the narratives. So, whenever boredom struck, he'd idly leaf through them, treating them as simple entertainments—a kind of illustrated folklore—and they served well enough to pass the hours.
He had, in fact, devoured the entire collection.
Thus, the visage of Heavenly Lord Dao Xuan was far from unfamiliar to him.
And now, seeing Li Daoxuan’s actual face, he felt an undeniable ripple of... bewilderment.
Xing Shi, intimately familiar with her husband's untamed and defiant nature, quickly leaned in, her voice a hushed urgency. She feared he might commit some grave impropriety. "My husband," she cautioned, "you needn't worship the gods, but you must never show them disrespect. Watch your words, I beg you, watch your words."
Gao Jie had been on the verge of an outburst, but his wife's sharp admonition pierced through his haze of irritation, bringing a sliver of clarity. He managed to rein in his temper, yet his voice still bristled with challenge. "And who might *you* be?" he snapped, "What business is it of yours to lecture me?"
From the growing crowd lining the street, an anonymous bystander piped up, his voice tinged with awe and warning. "That is Heavenly Lord Dao Xuan himself, General," he declared, "come down to walk among mortals. I’d advise you to tread carefully."
Gao Jie stiffened.
Gao Jie scoffed inwardly. *Impossible! This must be someone who bears a striking resemblance to the Heavenly Lord Dao Xuan, or perhaps the artists who rendered the divine portraits merely used this man as their model.*
Regardless, the notion of a deity actually descending to the mortal realm was preposterous.
His mind still churning with chaotic thoughts, Gao Jie was startled when Li Daoxuan spoke. "Coming from humble beginnings, a touch of untamed defiance is to be expected," Li Daoxuan remarked, his voice calm yet penetrating. "Indeed, one without such a spirit would hardly ignite a rebellion. Yet, surely, you recognize the multitude of flaws that cling to you, General? Fail to diligently attend to these shortcomings, and you will forever struggle to achieve true greatness. No matter how elevated your station, you will find yourself scorned, and even your children will bear the brunt of that disdain."
These were not idle words. Historically, Gao Jie would indeed rise to command vast armies, becoming one of the Southern Ming's Four Grand Generals. Yet, for all his power and influence, he would still be held in contempt.
After Gao Jie’s death, Xing Shi would approach Shi Kefa, seeking to have her son adopted by the esteemed official. She hoped to secure a foster father for him.
However, Shi Kefa, disdainful of the boy’s origins as the son of a crude, untamed bandit, refused the request for adoption.
Was Shi Kefa's decision just? Unquestionably not! For the good of the nation, he should have cast aside such prejudices and rallied every available force.
But merely assigning blame to Shi Kefa wouldn’t solve Gao Jie’s underlying problem.
To truly earn the respect of others, one must first strive relentlessly for self-improvement.
The saying goes, "Heroes are not judged by their origins." Yet, one must *become* a hero to warrant such a sentiment. If you fall short of heroism, becoming merely a powerful but ruthless figure, then others will inevitably scrutinize and disparage your humble beginnings.
Consider Zhu Yuanzhang: despite his impoverished origins, later generations lauded his achievements. His humble birth was not a stain upon his legacy but rather a celebrated testament to his resilience, a highlight of his story.
Conversely, Li Zicheng, who also rose from obscurity, was ultimately deemed a failure. His peasant background became a glaring flaw, often cited as proof of the "limitations inherent in the peasant class."
While "the victors write history" holds some truth, another crucial factor was Zhu Yuanzhang’s insatiable thirst for knowledge. He diligently studied, constantly improving himself. Li Zicheng, however... he never refined his character. His bandit tendencies remained ingrained, unshakeable even after he claimed the imperial throne.
Li Daoxuan's mind had drifted, straying far from the immediate scene. With a subtle mental tug, he reeled himself back into the present.
Li Daoxuan then fixed Gao Jie with a peculiar, unsettling smile—one that evoked the chilling "uncanny valley effect." "Gao Jie," he proposed, "let’s make a wager."
That dreadful smile sent a prickle of unease through Gao Jie. "What kind of wager?" he asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice.
Li Daoxuan stated, "I will stand here, unmoving. No dodging, no evasion, no parrying. You may strike me ten times. If you succeed in knocking me to the ground, I will cease instructing Fan Shangzheng to pursue you for lessons. But if you fail, then you will return to your studies, like a good student."
The moment these words left Li Daoxuan's lips, Gao Jie, Xing Shi, Cao Wenzhao, and Cao Bianjiao collectively gasped, a shared ripple of astonishment passing through the four of them.
Such a wager?
Wasn't this simply an undeserved boon for Gao Jie?
While Gao Jie wasn't renowned for his martial prowess, nor did he possess the exquisite skill of the Cao uncle-nephew duo or the "Madman" He Renlong, he was nonetheless a seasoned warrior, a brute forged in the crucible of countless battles.
Forget ten punches; aimed correctly, a single blow from him could prove lethal.
To stand utterly still, offering no defense or evasion for ten full blows—no mortal could endure such an onslaught.
A perplexed expression settled on Gao Jie’s face. "Are you... inviting death?" he finally managed.
Li Daoxuan maintained his peculiar, "uncanny valley" grin. "If you manage to kill me," he retorted, "then you'll be free from all lessons forever, won't you? Wouldn't that be precisely to your liking? Come, then, step forward and try."
He then raised his voice, projecting it to every gaping face among the onlookers lining the street. "Listen closely, everyone!" he boomed. "Gao Jie and I have made a pact: I shall stand here, allowing him ten full punches. Should he manage to knock me down, he will be exempt from all future ideological lessons. Should he fail, however, he will dutifully return to his studies. He fancies himself a true hero of the martial world; surely, he wouldn't renege on his word before such a crowd, would he?"
Having caused a stir for a while now, they had already attracted a considerable crowd of onlookers.
When Li Daoxuan's declaration rang out, countless ears around caught every word, and the common folk promptly erupted into laughter.
The citizens of Luoyang, having mostly witnessed the "Divine Miracle of the Heavenly Lord" during the terrifying Great Locust Plague, understood his power firsthand. Did his strength even need to be articulated?
Driven by the thrill of a good spectacle, and certainly not adverse to a little drama, the crowd turned their mirth upon Gao Jie. "General," one called out, "you're new around these parts, but are you a man of your word?"
"General, you strike me as a man of mettle," another chimed in, "Don’t go wailing foul play if you lose, now."
"General, have you considered how you'll gracefully concede when the time comes?"
The entire assembly began to openly mock Gao Jie, predicting his swift downfall.
A prickle of alarm ran through Gao Jie. *What is wrong with these commoners?* he thought. *I am an imperial military officer; ordinary folk should cower at the sight of my uniform, yet they show no fear!*
How is it that today they not only defy me but dare to jeer at my expense?
Are they so utterly convinced of my defeat?
This was wrong. Terribly, unsettlingly wrong.
Nevertheless, even with this unsettling premonition, there was no longer any room for retreat.
To cower and refuse to even throw a punch before such a throng would be an even greater humiliation.
Gao Jie balled his massive fists, as large as overturned bowls. "Very well," he growled, "I shall strike then."
Li Daoxuan simply beckoned, "Come forth."
He waved Gao Yiye to step back, then slid his hands into his pockets, his feet splayed ever so slightly apart, adopting an air of utter nonchalance.
Gao Jie bristled at his opponent’s stance. "If you possess the mythical skills of the Golden Bell Shield or Iron Cloth Shirt," he challenged, "now would be the time to assume a proper defensive posture! What is the meaning of this lax, unconcerned pose? Are you deliberately mocking me?"
Li Daoxuan, with the smooth, self-assured cadence of a video app narrator, responded, "That year, with my hands in my pockets, I found no equal."
Gao Jie roared, "Have at you!"
He lunged forward with the speed of an arrow, unleashing a fierce, direct punch aimed squarely at Li Daoxuan’s abdomen.
The blow was somewhat restrained; he had no intention of killing the man.
The fist whizzed through the air. Li Daoxuan, true to his word, made not the slightest move to evade. Gao Jie’s punch landed, unerring and solid, directly upon his midsection.
Initially, his knuckles registered the yielding give of soft skin. But in an instant, Gao Jie felt his fist connect with something impossibly rigid beneath—bone, yet harder than any bone he’d ever encountered. *So hard!*
With a resonant "thump," Gao Jie stifled a groan. He clutched his aching fist, stumbling back several paces, his eyes wide with shock.
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