Chapter 80: The Heaven-Defying Boxing Gloves

Returning to Reed City, I was your father who found the monk trainer. When he proudly showed the monk’s tattoo on his arm to the trainer, a faint purple halo suddenly blossomed around him, symbolizing the successful completion of his job change quest.

Overjoyed, your father examined himself from head to toe, repeatedly testing the few beginner monk skills he had just learned. Three or four colorful magical auras flickered intermittently around him. Each time he switched skills, he fumbled through the skill descriptions in confusion. Suddenly, he seemed to notice something amiss and exclaimed in surprise.

“Boss, come take a look at this... what’s going on? Why has my attack power suddenly dropped so low?”

I carefully checked his status and sure enough, after the successful job change, all his attributes—health, spirit energy, defense, agility, and so forth—had significantly increased. Yet, his attack power had fallen instead of rising, plummeting from the original seventy-three down to thirty-four. Keep in mind that priests were never known for their combat prowess; their attack power was notoriously low. Now, as a newly minted monk, his attack power was even lower than when he was a priest, which was utterly disheartening.

Fuxiao also looked puzzled for a moment, then suddenly slapped the back of his head in realization. “Ah, damn it! I forgot! Throw away your staff; monks can only use gauntlets.”

His words instantly made sense. The monks’ steadfast faith dictated that they could only wield gauntlets as weapons. After the job change, the “Magic Ring Short Staff” your father held was no more valuable than a mere firewood stick. The attack power bonus it provided had no practical meaning for its new master.

This was a serious problem. If your father needed other equipment, Fuxiao and I might have been able to scrounge up a few decent replacements, especially weapons—because my “Forceful Throw” skill consumed one weapon at a time, I habitually saved some low-level weapons from my adventures.

But gauntlets were different from ordinary swords and armor; only monks could equip them, and my “Forceful Throw” skill was useless against them. Monks were rare throughout the Falvi Continent, and even if I happened to find one, I wouldn’t keep it long—I’d sell it immediately to a roadside merchant for a few bottles of health potions. Helping with this problem seemed difficult.

“Boss, you have to help me all the way. Like this, barehanded, I don’t even dare to leave the city gates...” Your father was genuinely panicked. He grabbed Fuxiao by the collar, pleading incessantly, afraid that he might be left behind alone in the city.

Fuxiao, obviously not one to shirk responsibility, comforted the distressed monk with a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’m heading to East Chelford Harbor for a mission. You can get your gauntlets there.”

“Boss, thank you so much...” Your father’s eyes glistened with tears.

“It’s nothing. Living in the same city is fate. A distant relative is not as good as a close neighbor.” Fuxiao’s eyes sparkled with a glimmer of humanity.

“Alright then, let’s head to that—what’s it called—East Chelford Harbor now.” Your father was already impatient.

“East Chelford Harbor,” I quietly corrected him.

“Whatever, let’s leave now. I have some business tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay up too late tonight...” Your father strode forward without hesitation.

Although there was no absolute need for me to help your father equip weapons, I had no pressing tasks at hand. Out of goodwill toward a guild brother—and more importantly, because Fuxiao didn’t know the way to East Chelford Harbor—I accompanied them to this pirate-infested port city.

East Chelford Harbor lay on the northern shore of Comet Sea, under the rule of the Montica Kingdom. Its dark beer was as notorious as the pirates that haunted its docks. No one could definitively say whether the beer’s reputation attracted the pirates or the pirates made the beer popular—both seemed inseparable.

Within the city walls, a few lazy patrol guards proved it still belonged to Montica. Beyond the gates, however, you were no longer under the kingdom’s protection. Pirates prowling nearby could swarm and throw you into the sea at any moment. Your only protection was the sword in your hand and the courage in your heart.

Fortunately, these “Ghost Reef Pirates” were mostly low-level nuisances under level forty. For us nearing level fifty, they posed little threat. Yet their annoyance lay in their numbers and persistence; once one spotted you, the rest would swarm relentlessly, unwilling to relent until death. While Fuxiao and I were unfazed by such group fights, your father, a burly monk barely thirty-five, found it difficult to withstand such continuous assault. We had to split our focus to protect him, making the journey arduous.

Though your father’s combat skills were clumsy at best, I had to admit his choice to become a monk was wise. The monk’s “Sacred Light Reflection” aura was perfect for close combat against groups of foes—an excellent skill for winning against overwhelming odds.

The pirates’ swords only reduced your father’s health by thirty or forty points per hit, while their own health plummeted by seventy or eighty points each strike, quickly ending their lives. This made fighting much easier for Fuxiao and me. I even felt that gauntlets were unnecessary; with this powerful reflection skill alone, your father could adventure and kill monsters slightly below his level.

Regrettably, “Sacred Light Reflection” only reflected damage—it did not reduce the damage your father received. Despite our protection, he often faced near-death situations. After the job change, he had lost the priest’s divine healing magic. Thankfully, we had stocked plenty of health potions before leaving the city, which barely kept him alive.

I was not mistaken—East Chelford Harbor was rife with pirates wielding gauntlets. I never understood why these pirates, clearly not trial-passed monks, carried large, ugly gauntlets but never used them in combat. It was as if they were waiting for some newly minted monk to claim them from their corpses—just as we were doing now.

Before long, we had gathered many gauntlets like “Serpent Fang Gauntlets” and “Broken Tooth Fist Blades.” Unfortunately, these were all low-level gear, around level ten to twenty, which seemed beneath the dignity of a level thirty-five monk like your father. This frustrated me greatly. Everyone knew only priests above level thirty-five could change jobs to monk, and only monks could use gauntlets. So why were there so many poorly made, low-level gauntlets in circulation? Such wasted potential!

Actually, after obtaining a level twenty-six “Mind Hammer” gauntlet, your father was quite satisfied. This backward country bumpkin likely only used gear appropriate to his level at level one; now, with a weapon less than ten levels below him, he was grateful beyond words.

The real dissatisfaction came from Fuxiao. To him, traveling all this way only to secure a poor-quality weapon for a level thirty-five junior was a slight embarrassment for a seasoned adventurer nearing level fifty. After his insistence, your father reluctantly set aside the gauntlet, trailing behind us gloomily as we ventured further into more dangerous pirate territory beyond East Chelford Harbor.

Finally, Fuxiao’s persistence paid off. Among the palm groves beyond sight of the city walls, we defeated the twenty-seventh wave of pirates. From one pirate leader’s body, we found a pair of level thirty-four “Pirate’s Iron Anchor Claws.”

These gauntlets increased the wearer’s attack power by eighty-four points, defense by thirty, and spirit energy by seventy-five. Three curved blades cunningly protruded from the back of the gauntlets, shimmering with a ghostly cold light. In battle, these hidden blades had a fifteen percent chance to cause a tearing effect, ripping the opponent’s flesh—similar to the effect of my former sword, the “Fanged Ripper.”

“Boss, I’m so lucky to be under your wing!” You can imagine the ecstatic feeling of a poor boy who had never worn a complete set of clothes before, now clutching such a weapon eagerly, practically wearing “admiration” on his face.

Armed with the new gauntlets, your father quickly bid farewell and soon crossed the dimensional rift to leave Falvi Continent. Fuxiao and I, mission accomplished, carried a large pile of low-level gauntlets back to East Chelford Harbor.

In a local general store, we piled the useless gauntlets on the counter, ready to sell. The shop was crowded with customers waiting in line. Fuxiao grew impatient, idly flipping through the gauntlets.

“This one looks pretty cool...” He pulled out a pair of “Sturdy Hand” gauntlets and slipped them on. Though only level twelve, these cowhide gloves were finely stitched with copper plates, more decorative than functional—useless for sword-wielders who couldn’t equip gauntlets.

“This one’s flashy too...” I grabbed a pair of “Serpent Fang Gauntlets” and wore them. Their surface was chillingly cold and black as night, with iridescent snake scale patterns on the wrists, lending an evil elegance.

“These are pretty good, too—different on each hand.” He held the “Balanced Fighter” gauntlets, with the right fist smaller and harder, the left larger and more flexible, ideal for novice monks using right-hand attacks and left-hand defense. Their asymmetrical streamlined design was strangely beautiful.

“Hey, why did you bring out your own equipment...” At that moment, I noticed a pair of gauntlets called “Boxing Gloves” on the counter. Unlike typical weapon gauntlets, these looked like armored gloves: plain, symmetrical, with spread fingers. I mistakenly thought Fuxiao had accidentally taken his own gear out.

“Nope.” Fuxiao stretched his hands, still wearing his “Angry Middle Finger” arm guards.

I examined the “Boxing Gloves” description closely; indeed, they were gauntlets, but their ordinary name and appearance made them easy to confuse.

Curious, I slipped them on. Suddenly, a strange sensation flowed through my fingers. I felt some change in myself and instinctively checked my attributes.

“Huh...” I murmured.

“Are these the ones you want to sell?” The shopkeeper’s wife, now at the front of the line, pointed at the pile of gauntlets and smiled.

“Yes...” Fuxiao began, but I abruptly cut him off.

“No, we’re not selling!” I scooped up all the gauntlets and bolted out. The people in line glared at us, annoyed: “If you’re not selling, don’t waste our time.”

Ignoring their complaints, I rushed out the city gates and stopped in a secluded spot outside.

“Jeff, what are you doing?” Fuxiao grabbed my arm, confused and irritated.

“Shh...” I glanced around cautiously. Aside from a pirate wandering about fifty paces away, no one was near.

“Look at my stats,” I whispered.

Fuxiao was stunned, then focused on my attributes. When I removed the “Boxing Gloves,” he gasped.

“Ah, no way...”

Before taking them off, my stats were: attack power 123+40, defense 159+173, agility 86+97, health 4,893, spirit energy 2,256. After removal, attack remained 123, defense dropped to 159+150, agility to 86+82, health unchanged, spirit energy 2,186, and attack speed slowed by 8%.

The attribute changes matched perfectly with the “Boxing Gloves” bonuses.

What did this mean?

An irresistible, tantalizing answer was almost within reach.

Suppressing my excitement, I tremblingly grasped my longsword.

The moment the sword settled in my hand, my attack power soared to 123+200.

My suspicion was confirmed!

For some unknown reason, this level fifteen “Boxing Gloves” differed from every other gauntlet we’d seen. Even non-monks gained attribute bonuses from wearing them, and these bonuses did not conflict with other equipped weapons.

Fuxiao immediately pounced on the pile of gauntlets like a starving man on bread. He finally found a matching pair of “Boxing Gloves” and eagerly fitted them on. When fully worn, he paused, then howled ecstatically.

The magical gloves had the same effect on him.

Suddenly, he stopped his wild celebration, eyes fixed intently on the scattered gauntlets. In his gaze, I saw a fervent zeal and the thrill of discovery. Without words, I understood his thoughts. In unison, we shouted and lunged again at the pile of low-level gauntlets.

A greedy voice filled my mind: maybe there were even better ones...

Hours passed...

“This one’s no good...” I waved a pair of gauntlets away.

“Neither is this...” Fuxiao carelessly tossed his into the sea.

“No... wait, the Furious Gauntlets—I think I tried those already.” The pair felt oddly familiar.

“You just realized that? I tried those three times.” Fuxiao shook his head in defeat.

We scoured every pirate camp around East Chelford Harbor, turning over every rock in search of high-level gauntlets. We amassed enough to open a sizeable museum, testing each pair until our fingers were raw—yet found no second pair that boosted attributes.

“Looks like it’s only this one...” Fuxiao looked at his “Boxing Gloves” with lingering dissatisfaction. “Too low level—only adds forty attack points.”

This guy clearly didn’t know the virtue of contentment. With the gloves on, I’d just seen him dispatch a pirate with two strikes, his damage greatly improved.

“Don’t be greedy. Adding these forty points of attack, even a level fifty weapon might not beat what you have now...” As his more easygoing and wiser friend, I earnestly reminded him that one should not be insatiable in life.

“...Though it would be nice if it boosted defense a bit more...”