Chapter 102: Li Qianfeng Returns Home

The quiet days in the small courtyard slipped by like whispers on the wind.

Since Li Hao had returned home after the Temple Fair with Bian Ruxue, the two had not stepped outside again. They waited in silence—each lost in their own thoughts, hearts attuned to the approaching moment.

By day, Bian Ruxue practiced sword intent in the Inner Courtyard, moving with grace and precision, yet she never practiced full sword forms. The sheer ferocity of those forms would have severed the last traces of autumn’s fleeting beauty in the courtyard.

When her practice ended, she turned—her gaze drifting toward the pavilion.

But the pavilion stood empty. The boy who once lingered within its shadows was gone.

Her eyes—clear as first snow—glimmered with a fleeting sorrow, a quiet sadness she could not fully suppress. Yet it vanished in an instant, swallowed by discipline. She returned to her cultivation, her spirit unshaken.

Meanwhile, in the Li Clan’s Ancestral Hall, Li Hao’s presence became a familiar sight. He would seek out the Fifth Elder for a game of chess, or wander into the Pavilion of Listening to Rain, where he’d open any book at random and sit for an entire day, lost in thought.

With only ten days left until the deadline, the tension thickened.

On this day, Li Hao sat by a still pool in the Inner Courtyard, pulling out a painting board he had not touched in half a month. He dipped his brush into ink, preparing to finish the final stroke of Autumn Leaves in Deep Autumn.

Just then, a figure burst into the courtyard—Li Yuanzhao, breathless and flushed.

“Hao Ge,” he panted, rushing to Li Hao’s side, “Qianqian’s here. She wants to see you.”

“Qianqian?”

“The one from Cangyu City—Ren Qianqian,” Li Yuanzhao added quickly. “The one we met when we went there.”

Li Hao recalled. “What does she want?”

“She said her father agreed. She wants to learn sword art from you,” Li Yuanzhao replied eagerly.

Li Hao blinked. He hadn’t expected this.

“Hao Ge,” Li Yuanzhao pressed, “if you’re okay with it, I’ll bring her in.”

Li Hao paused, then nodded. “Fine. If she’s determined, I won’t refuse.”

“Great!” Li Yuanzhao grinned. “She’s waiting outside. I’ll bring her right over!”

Li Hao gave a small nod.

By the time he finished the painting, Li Yuanzhao returned—leading a slender, graceful girl with a sword cradled in her arms. Her eyes darted gently around, not wildly, but with quiet curiosity, taking in the famed Divine General’s Residence, a place countless dreamt of yet few dared to enter.

Even as a daughter of a master, well-traveled and well-versed, Ren Qianqian’s cheeks betrayed a hint of nervousness.

The journey from the main gate to the Mountain and River Courtyard was no short walk. Along the way, every first level distance bore guards—elite soldiers radiating stern, deadly auras. Patrols passed by at regular intervals.

Though called a “residence,” it was more like a miniature palace.

Ren Qianqian had already seen several figures whose auras matched—or even surpassed—her father’s. Yet, unlike her father, these men carried no trace of transcendent elegance. Instead, their presence was heavy with a repressed, battlefield-like killing intent, as if they’d walked through a field of corpses.

She trembled inwardly.

These are Heavenly Gate cultivators—true masters. Yet here, in the Divine General’s Residence, they are merely guards.

“Hao Ge,” Li Yuanzhao called with a smile, “Qianqian’s here.”

Li Hao sat alone by the pool, brush in hand.

Ren Qianqian looked at him—the prodigy whose name now echoed through Qingzhou like thunder. She had expected it, yes, but not this… this overwhelming fame.

Now, before her, he stood in a white robe, exuding refined nobility, his fingers still tracing the final strokes of his painting.

She was startled. She had imagined someone like Li Hao—such a genius—would be constantly cultivating, burning through every moment.

Yet here he was, calm, composed, almost leisurely.

“I’ve made up my mind,” she said, straightening her back. Her voice was firm. “I want to learn your sword. I want to master the strongest sword art of the Li Clan. I will serve you for life!”

Li Hao’s lips twitched slightly. Another child, willing to sacrifice everything for the sword.

He exhaled softly, setting down his brush beside the inkstone.

Then, slowly, he turned to face her.

“Are you truly sure?”

“Absolutely,” she declared, her eyes sharp with resolve.

“Did your father agree?”

“He said yes.”

“Are you certain?”

She nodded, clutching her sword tighter. “I want to surpass masters. I want to forge immortality with my own sword.”

Li Hao smiled faintly. “Immortality? What good is it? Even masters are not beyond this world. Immortality is not truly immortality.”

“From this day forward, you belong to the Li Clan. You’ll never be able to leave—no matter what. Even if you destroy your own cultivation, you can’t escape. Because as long as you remember, you’ll never be free.

Unless you die.”

His gaze hardened—sharp as a blade.

“Can you truly do that?”

Ren Qianqian’s heart trembled. The pressure in his stare was unbearable. She instinctively took a step back, but her heel barely lifted before her body froze.

If I can’t even bear the look of a boy my own age, how can I ever master the sword? How can I ever achieve immortality?

She drew in a deep breath. Her fingers gripped the sword tighter.

“Yes,” she said, teeth clenched. “I can.”

Li Hao studied her for a long moment—then looked away.

“Very well. From today, you are my Sword Attendant. You’ll carry my sword.”

Ren Qianqian’s chest surged with emotion. She bowed deeply. “Thank you!”

“No need for thanks,” Li Hao said calmly. “We each have our duties.

Later, I’ll take you to meet Zhao Bo. You’ll sign the Household Contract with him and learn the customs and layout of the Divine General’s Residence.”

“Yes,” she replied. Then, hesitantly: “When can I start learning sword?”

Li Hao glanced at her. “I’ll teach you one sword. You’ll study it on your own. Learn it. Understand it. Ask when you don’t get it.”

“Understood!” She smiled, her eyes bright.

Then, noticing Li Hao had no sword at hand, she quickly offered hers.

“You can use mine.”

“No need,” Li Hao said, turning to pick up the brush handle resting beside the inkstone.

With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a burst of sword qi.

The qi shot across the pond’s surface—water parted instantly, splitting like a waterfall.

For several heartbeats, the split remained open. Then, slowly, the water sealed back together.

The sword qi vanished beyond the pond’s edge—leaving no trace, no damage to a single blade of grass.

Li Yuanzhao and Ren Qianqian stood frozen, stunned.

They could generate sword qi too—but never so effortlessly. Never so precise. Never so utterly gone, as if it had never existed.

The effortless mastery was breathtaking.

“Hao Ge…” Li Yuanzhao stammered, recovering. “I want to learn too!”

“Go to the Pavilion of Listening to Rain,” Li Hao said, eyeing him flatly. “Read the sword manual yourself. Come back when you can’t understand it.”

“Got it!” Li Yuanzhao grinned, then dashed off like a happy child.

Ren Qianqian, however, remained by the pool, lost in thought.

Time passed.

For the next few days, Li Hao remained in the Pavilion of Listening to Rain, reading. Occasionally, he’d stand in the courtyard, lost in contemplation.

As for Ren Qianqian, he didn’t rush her into the Pavilion’s sword art. Instead, he let her train in the courtyard, offering occasional guidance—correcting flaws in her form, refining her technique, pushing her toward perfection, toward the peak.

In the Inner Courtyard, Li Hao stood with hands behind his back, gazing at a withered, bare yellow tree.

Bian Ruxue approached, catching sight of the girl training across the courtyard.

She blinked.

So this is the one Li Hao took as his Sword Attendant—the daughter of a master.

Yet, even among the elite, such a title meant little here.

She assessed the girl’s sword art—exquisite, yes, but still far beneath her own.

In a world of countless sword saints, the truly refined were countless.

She turned away, unimpressed.

“Hao Ge,” Bian Ruxue asked softly, “what are you looking at?”

The last of autumn’s color had long since fallen from the tree.

Li Hao’s gaze sharpened.

“I’m watching the wind.”

“The wind?” She looked around. She felt it—yes—but how could you see it?

“Too weak,” Li Hao murmured, smiling. “It’s too small to stir the fallen leaves, let alone move this tree.”

Bian Ruxue frowned, staring at the bare branch.

She did feel the breeze—light, fleeting. In spring, she could see the leaves tremble. But now? Autumn had stripped everything bare.

Then—thud, thud, thud—a rhythmic pounding shook the ground.

Horse hooves thundered in from afar, galloping past the courtyard’s outer path.

Bian Ruxue frowned.

Riding horses inside the residence was common—but not in such a large, reckless group.

She sent her spirit soul soaring above, scanning the sky.

A procession of figures in saffron robes galloped down the road beyond the Mountain and River Courtyard, heading toward the distant Water Splendor Courtyard.

At their head rode a middle-aged man, clad in pure white robes, his face serene—radiating the aura of a Bodhisattva.

Bian Ruxue had studied the great powers of the world under the guidance of her senior brothers. She knew this place.

These were disciples of Mount Wu Liang.

And the man at the front? A Bodhisattva—one of the Four Foundations Realm.

Only the Unworldly Buddha, who received incense offerings for a thousand years, stood above him.

Her expression flickered.

Then she saw it—the boy riding beside the Bodhisattva.

He passed by, glancing up—his eyes locking with her spirit soul in a split second.

Bian Ruxue froze.

She knew him.

This was the Second Aunt’s son—the true dragon competitor Li Hao had been preparing for.

Li Qianfeng.

The horse thundered past. The moment passed in an instant.

But in that flash, she felt a chill run down her spine.

If he had attacked… he could have killed me. Now.

Her spirit soul returned to her body. Her face was grave.

“Hao Ge,” she said, voice low, “be careful. That man… he’s not ordinary.”

She shivered.

The brief eye contact had left her with the sensation of being stared down by a predator.

“Hmm,” Li Hao replied, smiling faintly.

A gentle breeze brushed past his feet—lifting only one fallen leaf, sending it tumbling onto his shoe.

As the countdown drew near, the days grew busier.

Since Li Qianfeng’s return, the Divine General’s Residence had become a hub of activity.

Visitors came daily—but mostly to the Water Splendor Courtyard.

Most were relatives of the Liu family, come to support their nephew.

On the third day before the deadline, Li Tiangang arrived with Li Xuanli and the various Lady-mothers from the different courts, leading the way to the remote Wangyou Mountain.

There, they retrieved the old lady—Chen Hefang, Li Tiangang’s mother, and Li Hao’s own grandmother.

She was also a descendant of the Five Great God General Mansions—the Chen Clan.

Once, she had married into the Li Clan, becoming the true dragon of her generation, bearing nine famed sons.

But she had long since severed ties with her clan.

The web of grudges and emotions within the thousand-year-old residence was tangled beyond words—too deep, too complex to unravel in a single breath.

Now, with Chen Hefang returned, all the elders and heirs gathered in the Blue Lotus Courtyard—once abandoned, now swept clean.

In the vast Main Hall, the Second Generation of the Li Clan paid their respects. Even the Eighth Uncle, Li Fenghua—on duty at the frontier—had returned.

This true dragon selection was not to be missed, unless one was truly unable to leave.

And here, for the first time, Li Hao and Li Qianfeng met face to face.

For Li Qianfeng, this was his first real look at Li Hao.

He had seen the boy as a child—when his mother once brought him to the courtyard. But he had paid no mind. The memory had long since faded.

So this is the Seventh Uncle’s son?

He stood with hands behind his back, eyes narrowing as he studied Li Hao.

He glanced at the Li Clan’s Third Generation behind him—Li Wushuang, and the others.

None impressed him.

Even Li Wushuang, once regarded as a rival, now seemed only a Divine Travel Realm cultivator—still far from the fifteen-year mark.

Even if they were of the same realm, Li Qianfeng felt no fear.

Only one person stirred his unease—this boy, whose name had spread like wildfire across Qingzhou, whose qi had begun to echo beyond its borders.

For the first time, Li Qianfeng felt a strange, incomprehensible sensation.

He could not fathom Li Hao’s cultivation realm.

Not even a hint.

Not a single trace.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end