Not long after leaving Blackwood Cliff, Lin Lang took off his mask. He had no desire to let the sun tan his face into light and dark halves.
This trip back to Blackwood Cliff had brought considerable gains, and he was in a very pleasant mood.
With the Golden Coin Gang expanding aggressively, the best approach for the Sun Moon Holy Cult was to sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight.
Northern Shaolin and the Wudang Sect had always done just that.
Whenever they felt a martial faction threatened their standing as the towering authorities of Jianghu, they would talk other sects into fighting it.
If one sect could not win, they would rally more people to join the fight.
That way, Northern Shaolin and the Wudang Sect could reap the greatest benefits at the smallest cost.
Although Northern Shaolin and the Wudang Sect had made no progress, the other factions had declined, leaving their positions as the martial world's towering authorities unshakable.
This also attracted more young geniuses to join them as disciples, further strengthening them and deepening their foundations.
Lin Lang knew he had not yet reached the point of invincibility, so clashing with Northern Shaolin now would be unwise. The Sun Moon Holy Cult would inevitably suffer enormous losses. Even victory would be a pyrrhic one, and the Wudang Sect, the Golden Coin Gang, and the others would certainly not miss that opportunity to destroy it.
How much better it would be to let the Golden Coin Gang lead the charge instead, let them wear each other down, and have the Sun Moon Holy Cult reap the fisherman's rewards.
"Shangguan Jinhong is wildly ambitious, and he's stopped even trying to hide it. I refuse to believe Northern Shaolin and the Wudang Sect can sit by