Dimensional Storekeeper-Chapter 223: Elder Bai vs Sect Master Jiang 1

Chapter 223: Elder Bai vs Sect Master Jiang 1

“That’s gonna be tough though… the ones left are old farts from Drifting Sword Sect.”

“Yeah. And those old monsters don’t mess around. One wrong hit and you’re watching your dreams roll into the wrong pocket.”

Across the room, Dou Xinshi stood near the edge of the crowd, arms crossed.

He wasn’t sulking. Not exactly. Maybe.

Well… okay, a little.

Was it really that bad to lose to Ji Yunzhi? No, not really. The guy played as if divine guidance poured straight onto his bald head.

He clearly had some freakish talent. Even Dou Xinshi, who couldn’t stand Ji Yunzhi, had to grit his teeth and admit it.

But still.

All that hype… the clapping… the awe-struck expressions… the whispers of “genius” and “billiards prodigy”…

Why did it have to start with him?

He wasn’t even a stepping stone.

He was the floor tile Ji Yunzhi walked over on his way to glory!

Dou Xinshi let out a long breath.

Time to let it go.

He really wasn’t built for this game. That cue stick felt more like a broom in his hands anyway.

But in combat?

Oh, in combat, he could square up with that bald guy any day.

Sure, he might get knocked through three walls and wake up needing ointment in places he didn’t want to mention.

But lose?

Absolutely not.

He’d be bloodied, bruised, probably coughing up qi and pride – but standing.

‘Next time, we fight with fists.’

‘Let’s see how many trick shots that bald head can pull off then.’

As for the result of that possible future fight… well, Dou Xinshi might want to temper his expectations.

Because Ji Yunzhi wasn’t just freakishly talented in billiards, cultivation, and alchemy.

He was the kind of freak that made people wonder if the heavens accidentally dropped all the cheat codes into one guy.

Once, after harvesting spirit marrow blossoms deep in the Blackpine Ravine, Ji Yunzhi got ambushed by three rogue cultivators. They had blades, talismans, and a very clear demand.

Hand over the goods or get sliced.

They got sliced.

By their own weapons.

Ji Yunzhi didn’t just defeat them. He beat them so cleanly it looked rehearsed. Shattered two knees, one elbow, and a jaw using nothing but his body.

His Cracking Style martial technique was designed to deliver pinpoint shattering damage through reinforced joints. One moment, his elbow gleamed with qi, the next, it slammed into a bandit’s chest and sent the man tumbling backward, ribs crunching.

The technique strengthened different parts of his body – knees, elbows, fists, even his head. Yes, he once headbutted someone so hard their defense cracked with a loud “cshrrks.”

And after winning?

Ji Yunzhi robbed them back.

Took their pouches, confiscated their swords, snatched their boots, and then left a note: Thanks for the donation. Get stronger before trying again.

When asked about it later, Ji Yunzhi had the nerve to smile and say.

“Heaven’s clearly on my side. If blessings drop from the sky and land at my feet, am I supposed to just step over them? Be serious.”

“Also, if you’re out here robbing people, you better be ready to experience the full circle of karma.”

“I’m just speeding up the process. Public service, really.”

The rogue cultivators reported him out of spite, but no one believed them.

They were limping, bootless, and missing several teeth.

So yes.

Dou Xinshi could challenge him to a fight.

But unless he planned on bringing spare kneecaps, he might want to reconsider.

Hao stepped up to the billiard table again and flipped the copper coin high into the air.

It spun, caught the light, and landed in his palm.

“Heads.” Hao announced.

Elder Bai Qingshui would take the break.

The two cultivators simply nodded at each other. No words. No banter. Just the calm, steady silence of men who had nothing to prove – but everything to do.

Even from the edge of the crowd, one could feel it.

The atmosphere shifted.

Sect Master Jiang Xianwei, usually all smirks and lazy swagger, had his eyes narrowed.

Serious. Focused. Locked in.

This wasn’t the usual half-hearted style he used earlier. This was the first time people saw the sect master truly giving a match his full attention.

And it made sense.

He knew Elder Bai Qingshui.

The elder rarely displayed his full control. Most days, it hid beneath soft footsteps and polite smiles, so quiet it was easy to overlook. But when it surfaced – even in something as small as a game – it turned heads.

There was no need for theatrics. His presence didn’t shout. It didn’t even speak.

However, those who understood strength couldn’t help but listen.

Sect Master Jiang Xianwei always paid attention when the elder made a move. Always.

Even the collisions were strange to watch. There was no loud crack, no jarring clash.

Elder Bai Qingshui would nudge the cue ball forward with a whisper of motion, and it would glide across the table in a perfect line, tapping into the next ball with just enough force to send it rolling toward the pocket.

Not too hard. Not too soft. Just right.

Each shot felt inevitable. As if the balls were always meant to land where he wanted them.

The force behind his movements was measured down to the tiniest fragment. He didn’t strike to overwhelm.

He struck to align. The cue ball didn’t bounce. It flowed.

The impact barely made a sound, yet it was more satisfying than any showy break.

That level of finesse? Hard to match.

Harder to counter.

Truthfully, Sect Master Jiang Xianwei had always believed Elder Bai Qingshui could have been the first among the Drifting Sword Sect’s Pillar Elders to ascend to the upper realms.

If he wanted to.

If he weren’t so reserved. Still tied to unfinished matters. Still bound by that old tragedy.

Had all that focus been poured into cultivation, Jiang Xianwei had no doubt Elder Bai would already stand equal to him in realm and strength.

In truth, they already stood on equal ground.

And that made this match more than just a game.

More than just a sport.

Two mountains exchanging glances.

And only one would leave the table with the final shot.

Sect Master Jiang Xianwei had no intention of giving up the fight.

He needed to win. Not just for pride.

Because after this, he was disappearing.

He had been planning his seclusion for weeks now. A quiet retreat to finally digest the ancient technique he’d risked life and limb to obtain.

And for that, he needed isolation. Peace. Time.

And the perfect drinks from the Dimensional Convenience Store.

He had his eye on the Peach Oolong Tea and Lime Fizz, of course. But also that new Wing Blast.

Something about them paired too well with late-night comprehension breakthroughs.

The kind that happened after seven hours of sitting still, five spiritual ruptures, and one terrifying moment of thinking your left arm was turning into a sword.

He’d need all of it. Because once he entered seclusion, he wasn’t coming out for at least six months.

No store visits. No refills.

Just long hours of sword stances, breathing rhythms, and trying not to hallucinate elder lectures while starving from qi depletion.

And this wasn’t just any random technique he found lying around.

The scroll he now carried had nearly cost him more than just pride.

Three bruised ribs, a scorched sleeve, and a very rude vine beast that hissed like a teapot before exploding.

All of it traced back to one moment.

A month ago, during the once-in-a-century opening of the Flickering Mirage Valley. A realm that shimmered into existence only once every hundred years, when the stars aligned with the nine-layered moon lotus.

Only a select few were allowed inside. Sect masters, dao lords, rogue legends with too many titles and not enough manners.

They came hunting power. Weapons. Beasts. Pills.

Sect Master Jiang Xianwei came for knowledge.

The Mirage Valley didn’t make it easy. It was a place of illusions, twisting reality into puzzles and death traps painted with stardust.

He had walked paths made of broken constellations and crossed bridges that only appeared when he closed his eyes.

Most turned back early. Sect Master Jiang Xianwei kept going.

At the heart of it, beneath a mirrored lake that didn’t reflect anything real, he found it.

A single jade scroll floating midair, surrounded by spinning talismans and runes older than history.

Taking it wasn’t simple.

The realm forced him to fight.

Not a beast. Not a test guardian.

A memory.

His own reflection – younger, sharper, unburdened by leadership and reputation.

It fought with the hunger of someone who hadn’t tasted defeat yet.

And Sect Master Jiang Xianwei had to break it.

It ended with a bloodied lip and his fist driven through the illusion’s chest.

When the scroll finally opened, the characters on it twisted and shifted, then slowly aligned into meaning.

An ancient sword technique once guarded by the long-lost Azure Horizon Sect.

Said to harmonize divine energy with sword qi to a degree modern cultivators could only dream of.

The kind of technique that could elevate a sect.

Or destroy a battlefield.

And now, Sect Master Jiang Xianwei carried it.

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