The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 277

Someone once said that in the martial world, there are four types of people you should never provoke: monks, Taoist priests, women, and children!

Jiang Fei thought this made perfect sense.

After all, monks and Taoist priests were supposed to be devoted to quiet cultivation. If one dared to wander the martial world, they must have reached a certain level of mastery. Moreover, Taoists were primarily associated with Wudang, and monks with Shaolin—if they were easily defeated while traveling, it would tarnish their sect’s reputation. As for women and children? Well, if they dared to roam the martial world alone, they must have some serious skills.

So, when encountering monks, Taoist priests, women, or children in the martial world, one should never underestimate them. Instead, they should be treated with caution!

…Alright, fine—that saying was actually Jiang Fei’s own invention.

He had adapted it from a line in Gu Long’s novel The Seven Weapons, which originally stated that the three most dangerous people in the world were monks, beggars, and women.

But since Jiang Fei had just encountered a Taoist priest, he decided to add that to the list.

To be honest, though, Jiang Fei genuinely believed this middle-aged Taoist priest was someone best left alone. That was why, in order to meet with him, he had even risked angering Ye Yuanyuan, letting her storm off in frustration.

After Jiang Fei’s physical abilities had improved, his senses had also sharpened far beyond those of an ordinary person. Now that he had mastered the North Darkness Divine Art and cultivated inner energy, his ability to detect danger had become extraordinarily precise—almost as if he could foresee threats before they happened.

For example, when Ye Yuanyuan had entered the Japanese dojo with armed soldiers, ready to intervene in his fight with Miyamoto Kazuma, Jiang Fei had been fully aware of her movements despite being completely focused on the battle.

But this Taoist priest, carrying a wooden sword on his back, gave Jiang Fei an unprecedented sense of danger.

There was no concrete evidence to support this feeling, yet Jiang Fei was certain—this man seemed even more threatening than Miyamoto Kazuma.

This is one troublesome Taoist priest.

Despite his heightened senses, which now rivaled those of a wild animal, Jiang Fei had no idea when this priest had started observing him—or whether he had even witnessed the duel with Miyamoto.

Before leaving the dojo, Jiang Fei had been completely unaware of the priest’s presence. He had recognized every other martial arts expert in the audience—except this one.

Miyamoto probably hadn’t noticed him either. If either of them had sensed such a formidable figure watching their duel, they might not have fought so recklessly.

“I’d like to have a word with you, young friend,” the Taoist priest said, locking eyes with Jiang Fei.

Jiang Fei tensed, replying cautiously, “About what?”

I don’t even know you. What could we possibly have to talk about? When a stranger suddenly approaches, they’re either selling something or trying to scam you.

“I had the privilege of watching your duel with Miyamoto Kazuma earlier,” the priest said casually.

Jiang Fei’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

So he really was there—and I didn’t even notice him? The thought sent a chill down his spine. A true master wasn’t just powerful—they could conceal their presence completely, blending in among ordinary people until they chose to reveal themselves.

How terrifying is that?

It was like a beggar on the street suddenly standing up and unleashing an authentic Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, announcing himself as the leader of the Beggar Sect!

Jiang Fei couldn’t help but wonder: If this priest could track me without detection, could I even defeat him?

At least the man wasn’t Japanese. As a fellow Chinese, no matter how strong he was, he probably wouldn’t kill indiscriminately like Miyamoto, who had been determined to eliminate potential future threats.

But what exactly did this priest want from him?

A Taoist… probably from Wudang Mountain?

But Wudang shouldn’t have anyone this formidable. During his time at the Central Martial Arts Academy, Jiang Fei had learned about Wudang’s current state from Chen Zhoujian, a former Wudang disciple. The strongest there now was Reverend Qingxu, whom Miyamoto had planned to challenge next.

But Qingxu’s skills were on par with Wang Haoran’s—neither was a match for Miyamoto, let alone Jiang Fei. They certainly couldn’t compare to this unfathomable priest.

Of course, all of this was just speculation. Jiang Fei had no proof.

For all he knew, this “mysterious master” might just be a fraud.

“May I ask your name, Reverend?” Jiang Fei inquired.

“This humble priest is Xuanjizi,” the lean Taoist replied.

Xuanjizi… The name sounded pretentious, as if deliberately meant to sound profound. Jiang Fei kept that thought to himself and pressed further: “Which mountain do you cultivate on? Wudang? Zhongnan? Or somewhere else?”

“I wander the mortal world. To me, every mountain, river, island, city, and wilderness is a place of cultivation. A blade of grass, a drop of water, a single snowflake—all are part of my practice.”

Jiang Fei’s lips twitched.

This guy really lives up to his name—full of cryptic nonsense! I just asked where you’re from, and you hit me with this philosophical drivel?

“Reverend, you are…” Jiang Fei paused, searching for a polite word, “…remarkably detached from worldly affairs. But even those who cultivate among mortals must belong to a sect, no?”

Xuanjizi nodded. “I am a disciple of the Tianji Sect.”

“Tianji Sect?” Jiang Fei’s eye twitched in irritation.

Hearing that name, he began to suspect he had overestimated this man. Maybe he wasn’t some unfathomable master—just a con artist putting on airs.

Tianji Sect?

Are you kidding me? Jiang Fei had never heard of such a sect in the martial world. What’s next—are you going to tell me you can divine the secrets of heaven? It sounded like something out of a cheap novel.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of the Tianji Sect before…” Jiang Fei said carefully.

But Xuanjizi showed no embarrassment. “The Tianji Sect has always been a single-lineage tradition. At present, I am its only member.”

Jiang Fei barely stopped himself from spitting out his tea.

This guy has the audacity to admit that? If you’re going to scam someone, at least come up with a convincing backstory!

He could have claimed to be from some hidden, ancient sect that rarely interacted with the world—like those reclusive medical families Jiang Fei knew of, whose skills rivaled even the legendary Dr. Cui’s.

But no—this guy went with “I’m the only member.”

How lazy can you get?

Suppressing the urge to walk away, Jiang Fei asked one last time: “Reverend, what exactly did you want to discuss with me?”

Xuanjizi’s expression turned solemn. “I wish to perform a detailed fortune-telling for you.”

“Fortune-telling?” Jiang Fei didn’t react with shock or anger this time. Instead, he laughed.

He laughed heartily.

I’m such an idiot. I actually thought this guy was some hidden master, when he’s just a charlatan!

This was beyond embarrassing.

Worse than anything Ye Yuanyuan had ever done.

Here he was—a once-in-a-century swordsmanship prodigy, destined to become the Sword God, fresh off his victory over Japan’s greatest dual-blade master—getting scammed by a roadside fortune-teller.

If word got out, how could he ever show his face in the martial world again?

At least I had the sense to send Ye Yuanyuan away first. Otherwise, she’d never let me live this down.

“Yes. Fortune-telling,” Xuanjizi confirmed.

Jiang Fei nodded. “Alright then. But let’s get one thing straight—how much do you charge? Hang on, let me check…”

He pulled out his wallet and counted. “I didn’t bring much cash today. After paying 350 for tea, I’ve got less than 100 left. I’ll need 50 for the taxi back to the hotel, so if your fee is under 50, go ahead. If it’s more… well, sorry.”