Chapter 1: The Name Bestowed — Li Hao

Head pounding, a searing agony—

Li Hao tried to open his eyes, but it felt like his eyelids were made of stone.

Finally, a sliver of vision cracked open.

Dull, dim light spilled into his field of view. Before him stood a colossal ancient temple, majestic and solemn, its vast floor paved with a jagged, dark-golden dragon-scale carpet. At the far end of the carpet, atop a raised dais, sat a towering figure—imposing, regal, a man whose presence alone seemed to swallow mountains and rivers. His gaze burned like a candle in the dead of night, piercing, hypnotic, radiating an aura that froze the soul.

Where... am I?

Wasn’t I just playing a game?

Oh right—my phone died. I was about to plug it in...

Li Hao’s mind felt sluggish, foggy, utterly disoriented as he stared at the surreal scene around him.

No way… did I fall asleep clutching my phone again?

But this wasn’t a dream.

“Nineteen years old, valiant beyond compare—slew the Royal Court, destroyed the Great Demon, quelled a century-long chaos in Cangzhou! Such a hero—this is not only a loss for your family, the Li Clan, but for every soul in the Great Yu Dynasty!”

A voice thundered through the hall, deep and commanding, shaking the very air.

Li Hao strained to look. On either side of the carpet stood rows of officials in formal robes, heads bowed in silence. This… was the imperial palace?

Great Yu Dynasty?

That name didn’t ring a bell. No such dynasty in history.

As he struggled to make sense of it, a massive figure stepped forward from the crowd. Broad-shouldered, upright as a spear, the mere silhouette exuded an aura of blood-soaked discipline and cold steel.

“Today, the Li Clan’s ninth son, Li Junye, is hereby granted the title of First-Rank Marquis of National Protection, elevated to General of the Highest Rank, entitled to burial within the Imperial Mausoleum. He is bestowed ten chariots of ancient treasures, three Yu Dragon Edicts, and ten dou of gold!”

“Starting today, a three-day national mourning period shall be observed. Within the palace, a seven-day meatless fast shall be held in honor of the Marquis’s heroic soul!”

The proclamation sent shockwaves through the hall.

Only nineteen, and already a marquis?

And not just any marquis—Marquis of National Protection? The title alone was legendary, unprecedented. No one had ever received such a rank at such a young age. It was a name carved into history—glory that would never be matched.

“Your Majesty,” came a voice, low and steady, like stone grinding against stone. The figure knelt on one knee. “I, as elder brother, accept this decree on behalf of my younger brother. Thank you, Emperor Yu.”

No joy. No triumph. Only a deep, aching sorrow, the voice hoarse, raw.

“Your family has earned this,” the Emperor replied. “It is I who have failed you.”

“Xing Wuhou,” the Emperor continued, “that child—your son—is he not? I wish to bestow a name upon him. Will you accept?”

“Your Majesty, I have no merit. I dare not claim such grace.”

“Your sons are all heroes of the Great Yu Dynasty. When the Marquis of National Protection fell in battle beyond the frontier, your son was born. Perhaps this is the Cycle of Heavenly Dao—Heaven took my greatest general, and in return, gifted me a new son of valor.”

“Thus, I name him… Hao.”

“May he inherit the Marquis’s spirit, cleanse the realm, and unite the Eastern Radiance!”

“Your Majesty, such a name is too exalted. I fear my son cannot bear it…”

“Nonsense. The Li Clan’s sons are worthy of it.”

Single name—Hao?

Li Hao blinked, then nearly laughed. Coincidence? No way… I’m named Hao too?

Wait—was he the child?

Li Hao looked down.

His heart stopped.

He was wrapped in a swaddling cloth, tiny hands and feet, soft and pink, cradled in the arms of a stunning woman in full military armor.

“Bring forth the Dragon Blood Jade for the child,” the Emperor commanded.

A pale, expressionless eunuch stepped forward, holding out a pendant—a dark red jade carved with swirling dragon patterns.

A delicate, pale hand reached up, took the jade, and the woman murmured, “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindness.”

What… the hell is going on?

Li Hao blinked rapidly. Was this a dream?

Then, a wave of dizziness crashed over him. His vision blurred.

And he slipped into unconsciousness.

...

...

Qingzhou City, Divine General’s Residence — The Li Clan

The Great Yu Dynasty boasted Five Divine Generals—among them, the Li Clan.

A family of nine generals, every member a martyr of loyalty. In the Dynasty, they stood as the pinnacle of nobility—wealth beyond measure, power beyond reach.

But beneath the splendor lay blood and sacrifice.

Six of the nine sons had died.

The youngest, the ninth son, had only served two years in the army—just promoted to captain—when the Cangzhou campaign struck.

Leading tens of thousands of Iron Cavalry, he pierced through enemy lines, stormed all the way to the enemy king’s capital.

Fifteen cities fell. Hundred Spirit Beasts slain.

Ten generations of glory earned.

He became the sixth Li family general to die for the nation.

Now, his golden statue stood in the Martial Temple, honored eternally through incense and song.

It had been three months since the imperial proclamation.

The Li family had begun to heal. Grief still lingered, but shadows on their faces had lightened.

Today, joy returned.

A celebration—the Hundred-Day Celebration of Li Hao, son of Xing Wuhou, the Seventh General.

A child born with a silver spoon in his mouth, blessed by the Emperor himself with a name that echoed across the realm.

A scion of the Divine General Clan.

There was no doubt—he would one day stand among the greats.

As the old saying went: Bribe early, prosper later.

Inside the Mountain and River Courtyard, a quiet room.

Li Hao, still swaddled, lay in his mother Ji Qingqing’s arms, watching the bustling festivities outside.

Months had passed.

He now knew—this was no dream.

He had truly crossed over.

This world wasn’t our history.

It was The Ephemeral Realm—a world where Martial Practitioners, Great Demons, Sword Saints, and Courts of Power ruled.

But the Great Yu Dynasty was strong.

Demons and monsters were banned from entry.

Spirit Beasts that dared slip through were few and far between.

So life was peaceful.

And for a child born into the highest house in the land?

It was paradise.

There was hope.

Real hope.

“Hao,” his mother whispered, her voice soft, heavy with sorrow. “You know… I never wanted you to be born into the Li Clan.”

Li Hao looked up at her, startled.

His voice wasn’t yet developed—he couldn’t speak.

But even if he could, he wouldn’t dare ask why.

The truth would terrify a child.

Yet in his eyes, she was just a girl—barely twenty.

But in these months, her care had been unwavering, her warmth endless.

He had grown to depend on her.

“I had already chosen a name for you,” she murmured. “Le Ping. Le Ping—peaceful joy. I only wish you could be happy, safe, healthy. The dreams of unifying the world? That’s for the imperial family. Not for us. Not for me.”

She glanced toward the courtyard, where powerful aristocrats flattered and fawned, their smiles sharp and hollow.

They didn’t make her feel proud.

Only sickened.

“The Emperor gave you the name Hao because your brother died. He wanted the Li Clan to rise again. That name carries the Emperor’s hopes—his expectations, his demands.”

She fell silent.

The weight of that name—of that future—was unbearable.

The more honor bestowed today, the heavier the burden tomorrow.

Li Hao stared at the sorrow in her young face.

She wasn’t the revered Seventh Lady of the Divine General’s Residence.

She wasn’t the iron-willed warrior feared on the battlefield.

She was just a mother.

And in that moment, she was more real than any legend.

He buried his face deeper into her chest, seeking warmth, seeking comfort—trying to send her a silent message: I’m here. I’m okay.

Feeling the small movement, Ji Qingqing looked down.

She saw his long lashes, his perfect little face.

Her eyes softened instantly.

Holding him, she trembled slightly—comforting him, and perhaps herself.

“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “I’ll protect you. Your father has entered the Three Immortalities realm. There’s a chance you’ll inherit his power.”

“Even if your cultivation talent is ordinary, his strength will be in your blood. You’ll keep pace with your elders. You won’t fall behind.”

“No matter what the future holds… I will stand before you. No one will touch you.”

“Hundred-Day Celebration’s about to start,” came a deep voice.

Xing Wuhou stepped in, broad and towering. He gently wrapped an arm around Ji Qingqing’s waist.

“What are you thinking? You look troubled.”

“Of course not,” she said, forcing a smile.

She wouldn’t tell him.

She knew the Li Clan’s sons were all one thing—warriors.

Dying on the battlefield was their honor.

Their love for the family’s legacy would always outweigh any mother’s fear.

“Your sisters-in-law have arrived?” she asked.

“All here. They’re waiting for you and Hao.”

Xing Wuhou glanced at Li Hao, then ruffled his hair—rough, calloused fingers like sandpaper.

Li Hao winced, rolling his eyes.

This big clumsy oaf of a father… can’t he be gentle?

Ji Qingqing carried him into a room full of women from other branches of the family.

Chatter erupted instantly.

“Oh, Hao is so handsome—more beautiful than Jing’er was at this age!”

“Yes, Shuang’er, look at him—such a sweet little thing!”

“Oh my, his little eyes are staring right at me!”

Children of all ages were there—some just one or two years old, clinging to their mothers’ skirts, eyes wide with curiosity.

Others, five or six, stood stiffly, bored, watching the baby with polite indifference.

“Come here, Hao,” said a graceful woman, stepping forward. “Let Wu Niang hold you.”

She lifted him gently, smiling.

Then paused.

“Wait… Hao, are you hungry?”

“But you fed him this morning,” Ji Qingqing said.

The woman didn’t doubt her.

She just assumed the baby was hungry.

She began cooing, gently patting Li Hao’s cheeks, laughing.

The other women gathered around, playing, teasing, offering gifts.

Ji Qingqing tried to refuse, but they pushed presents into her hands anyway.

The treasures were priceless—rare artifacts, spiritual relics, masterpieces beyond value.

By the end, the Mountain and River Courtyard was filled with gifts—piled high, glittering, priceless.

One of them—a jade bracelet, the color of emerald—was placed on Li Hao’s tiny wrist.

Wu Niang said it would nourish the spirit.

Li Hao, already drowsy from the noise, suddenly felt a cool, tingling sensation run up his arm.

The sensation spread through his body—like a fresh breeze.

His spirit surged.

The drowsiness vanished.

His mind sharpened.

He squinted—

And before his eyes, a haze of blurred characters flickered into view.

They were clearer now—far sharper than when he’d first arrived.

With each passing month, his mind had grown.

And now, like a nearsighted man putting on glasses for the first time, the world snapped into perfect focus.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end