The Sect Leader System-Chapter 331: Tyranny of Talent

Huang Yimun was honestly surprised to make the final ten of the martial division. He definitely wasn’t as talented as his opponents. Of course, the combination of his Body Cultivation and the quality of the scriptures provided by the sect leader closed some of the gap.

Honestly, though, Huang Yimun attributed most of his success simply to being older than his opponents. There was a world of difference between fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds, barely considered adults, and him being twenty. He’d seen more. Experienced more. He’d been in fights where his life was on the line.

That gave him an edge against youths who mainly sparred with their peers in completely safe environments where even pain settings were reduced.

Huang Yimun’s astonishment at making the finals only enhanced his pride at standing on the stage with the finest cultivators the sects on the continent had to offer. With the exception of him, barely being an E with that minus designation, and Zi Delan, all the combatants were members of a big three sect with spiritual roots in the A and B range.

Still, Huang Yimun had barely made it onto the stage, ranking eighth. Zi Delan was even closer not to have made the cut at the very bottom, tenth.

Final ten was final ten, though.

It was almost a year to the day since Huang Yimun first departed Sixth Flawless City, and that version of him would have been absolutely astounded at where he’d ended up. Not only was he a cultivator in a powerful, up-and-coming sect, he was a leader in that sect—the guard captain.

To survive growing up on the streets and transition to earning a living in a respected manner as a mercenary was already beating the odds. To have almost no talent and be inducted into a sect was almost unheard of. To then achieve such success as to stand next to the best of the best was like something from a child’s overactive imagination.

But he had done all that. He deserved to take a moment to reflect on his accomplishments. He only wished that Ye Zan was there to share the moment with him.

The announcer recognized each of the contenders by name, to the cheers of the crowd. The Rising Tide Sect’s section—and the clan’s section for some reason?—went absolutely crazy when Huang Yimun and Zi Delan were introduced.

After the cheering died down, the finalists were ushered off the stage, and the first match began between the top ranked Swift Blizzard Sect member and … Zi Delan. The favorite to win the entire competition obviously wanted to reveal as little of his power set as possible and didn’t use any techniques, fighting instead with simple, clean strikes.

Zi Delan did his best. He kept good concentration and used his speed and strength to his advantage. Small mistakes added up against a superior opponent, though. Being an inch out of position here and a fraction of a second late with a block there led to a fairly fast defeat.

Within less than a couple of minutes, Zi Delan lay bloodied on the sand being fed a healing pill.

The battle of number two versus number nine went about the same, with the higher ranked combatant easily overwhelming his opponent. Thus, only several scant minutes after the final bouts began, it was Huang Yimun’s turn.

As he faced the number three finalist, a gray robed young man from the Jade Chameleon Sect, Huang Yimun discovered that he wasn’t nervous. While winning would be fantastic, it was both unlikely and unnecessary. In the history of the tournament, only very few members of clans or small sects made it past the middle rounds of any contest, and the number that actually made the finals was a tiny percentage, almost negligibly so.

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With him, Zi Delan, Wan Ai, and Xun Wu all making it that far, the stature of the Rising Tide Sect was proved beyond any doubt. Huang Yimun could only imagine the forces behind inviting them to the tournament pulling out their hair after every match.

His job was simply to do his best and to be a good sport whether he won or lost, both of which he could and would do.

Of course, losing was sure to be unpleasant. The Rising Tide Sect and the Jade Chameleon Sect were as hostile as they could be toward one another without outright war being declared. He could only imagine that the gray robed young man would do anything and everything he could to rub in his victory.

The match started, and the Jade Chameleon took the initiative, charging forward with his sword held at the ready. His speed, power, and precise movements indicated that he utilized a technique.

In a blink, he went from standing a dozen yards away to swinging his jian.

Only the advantages provided by Huang Yimun’s Body Cultivation gave him a chance to block the strike. He shifted the haft of his spear to intercept the blade, trusting the alchemically treated Orange Vigor Spirit Wood to handle any blacksmithed metal outside of what the sect leader could produce.

Thunk!

Already an underdog, reacting to his opponent’s attacks was not the way to pull out a win, so Huang Yimun sought to go on the offensive. Unfortunately, the Jade Chameleon was already doing so, seamlessly turning his blocked swing into a backhanded thrust.

Huang Yimun had enough experience to recognize a technique when he saw it, and all he could do was try to move his spear quickly enough not to be impaled.

Which he managed. Barely.

Two exchanges. Two techniques. That was the advantage of talented cultivators. They could learn techniques quickly and typically got more benefit from them. Members who were focused on winning the tournament could accumulate five to ten skills to Mastery above and beyond generalized weapon training as long as they were patient enough not to rise through the Qi Gathering realms too fast.

Even with Body Cultivation and the sect leader’s superior scriptures, it was difficult to compete with the power and speed provided by a technique. Not to mention that cultivators with higher spirit roots simply gained more from cultivation than lower ranked practitioners.

Huang Yimun stifled a sigh—the tyranny of talent.

If he had moved faster and with more power, his block could have forced his opponent out of position and left an opening. Dreams of such were only a fantasy, though. He’d barely intercepted the blade at all, forcing it just wide enough to prevent it from penetrating his stomach.

The Jade Chameleon flowed into another swing. There was no hesitation, not a single hitch in the motion. The speed, gracefulness, and power displayed were incredible. Another technique.

He’d earned his position as the number three rank.

If Huang Yimun were watching from the stands, he would have been very impressed and felt quite a bit of sympathy for the poor slob who had to face the guy. Unfortunately, Huang Yimun wasn’t in the stands. He was the poor slob.

If there was one thing he didn’t want to do in combat, that his every instinct told him was simply wrong, it was turning his back on an opponent.

But there was no choice, no time for Huang Yimun to determine an optimal way out.

The blade was coming for the back of his left shoulder, and his spear was completely out of position to block it. His only chance was a last resort.

He spun to his right, moving as fast as he ever had in his life.

Well before he could move the tough wood shaft between him and the oncoming steel, the blade bit into his right shoulder, cutting deep into his back.

Or that was what it felt like, anyway, with the arena’s arrays transmitting the feel of the strike if only allowing a shallow cut through cloth and skin.

Regardless, Huang Yimun was done. He collapsed onto the sand and pulled a healing pill from his pocket.

Three moves. That was all he lasted. His opponent used three techniques in quick succession. As expected from the third best combatant in the entire tournament.

Huang Yimun rose, faced the Jade Chameleon, bowed low, and cupped his hands. “Gratitude for giving this one pointers, Senior.”

The gray robed young man—surprisingly considering the animosity between their two sects—returned the bow and the cupped hands. “It was a good match. To match my speed and power without techniques is exceptional. Well done.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

Huang Yimun tilted his head at the young man’s actions and words. It just went to prove that there was no accounting for individuals. There were obviously at least some good people in a sect that was considered by the Rising Tide to be evil.

Yeah. That guy was all right. Talented and respectful. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be killed when the sect leader destroyed the higher realmed members.