Chapter 107: Disinherit His Son (Supplemental Chapter 120)

Seeing Li Hao’s举动, Li Qianfeng froze in shock.

Then, his eyes widened slightly—his entire body trembling faintly, as if he’d just heard something utterly unbelievable.

“What… do you mean?”

“Since the sword might injure you,” Li Hao said with a gentle smile, “I’ll use this instead.”

Beneath his calm expression, however, a cold, merciless killing intent seeped through his soul.

The moment Li Hao spoke, every person in the courtyard was stunned—half-believing their ears had betrayed them.

Facing Li Qianfeng—Fifteenth Rank, direct disciple of the Buddha Lord, a top-tier celestial talent—the idea that Li Hao would fight him with nothing but a pair of chopsticks was nothing short of madness.

This wasn’t arrogance. This wasn’t even recklessness.

This was sheer, absolute contempt. A complete dismissal of all limits.

Beside the dining table, Li Tiangang’s face darkened instantly. Horror flashed across his features, his eyes blazing with fury.

Earlier, he’d tolerated Li Hao’s recklessness. After all, unguided and only fourteen, reaching such a terrifying cultivation realm was bound to breed overconfidence.

But this… this was no longer arrogance.

This was arrogance taken to its ultimate extreme.

Even if Li Hao had the skill to win against an ordinary Fifteenth Rank cultivator, Li Qianfeng was no ordinary man—he was a disciple of the Buddha Lord!

And even if Li Hao truly possessed such power—what kind of devastation would it be for Li Qianfeng to be defeated by a mere chopstick?

It would shatter his pride, break his Dao heart, and ruin his life forever.

How could Li Tiangang face his late elder brother’s spirit, knowing he’d let such a disgrace unfold?

Across the table, Jian Wudao and Chu Jiuyue exchanged stunned glances, utterly dumbfounded. They had never imagined this natural talent youth would dare to be so utterly insane.

A chopstick defeating a prodigy?

How could that even be possible?

Was he replacing his sword with a chopstick? Jian Wudao wondered, studying Li Hao’s form. Given that the Li Clan had gifted him a famed sword, he was almost certainly cultivating the Sword Dao.

But then he remembered the child’s eyes from years past. A faint, silent shake of his head followed.

When Li Hao had spoken of the Eternal Night sword, Jian Wudao had already felt uneasy. The Li Clan had once again buried a legendary weapon—like a talent buried in obscurity.

This boy… he had no chance of mastery in the Sword Dao.

In contrast, Liu Yuerong and Sword Saint Jiang Haiping, along with others, were both shocked and furious—but also secretly thrilled.

This Li Hao is courting death!

That thought echoed in the minds of most guests. Yes, prodigies were prodigies—but they also carried the fatal flaw of arrogance. And that flaw was the quickest path to an early end.

“You…” Li Qianfeng glared at Li Hao, his jaw clenched. Though the boy wore a serene smile, the cold disdain in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I’ll make you pay for this.”

His aura flared violently, rippling through his robes like a storm. With a snarl, he swung his sword, gritting his teeth.

“Take my sword!”

Li Hao remained perfectly still, his smile now gone—replaced by a chilling stillness. Even mockery had lost its appeal.

A sharp, translucent sword qi slashed through the air, tearing at Li Hao’s clothes and whipping his hair into the wind.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Li Hao sent a single chopstick flying.

Boom!

The two sword qis collided midair—canceling each other out. Dust erupted from the ground.

The surrounding tables and buildings, protected by Li Qingzheng’s spiritual barrier, remained untouched.

But as the clash unfolded, Li Qingzheng suddenly remembered—he hadn’t yet summoned the Spirits of the Ancestors from the Ancestral Hall to temporarily lift the Heart Oath between the two.

Then he paused.

These two weren’t soul inheritors of the Li Clan’s ancestral spirits. There was no risk of them harming each other and breaking the oath.

“Damn kid…” Li Qingzheng muttered under his breath, his gaze locked on the battlefield.

At first, he’d believed Li Hao would win easily. But now, with this reckless overconfidence, doubt crept into his heart.

The brief exchange—though both sides held back—had ended in a stalemate. Even so, the onlookers were stunned.

“Hmm?” Jian Wudao narrowed his eyes. That flick of the chopstick… the sword qi had been perfectly natural, flawlessly balanced.

Li Qianfeng’s eyes were cold, a flicker of murderous intent buried deep within. He hadn’t expected the opponent’s object manipulation force to be so overwhelming. No longer holding back, he surged his aura to its peak—like a war god wielding a sword.

“Sword Incantation: Moon Rises!”

This was his strongest technique—meant to obliterate Li Hao in a single strike.

Terror filled the air as sword intent coalesced in his palm, sword qi slicing through the atmosphere. The guests recoiled, their throats tightening as if cut.

“That’s the Li Clan’s Sea of Boundlessness Sword Art!”

“Third Level already? At such a young age?”

“Such a high sword talent—only a master could possibly defend against this!”

The crowd was stunned, their expressions grave.

Ren Qianqian, standing outside the arena holding her sword case, felt a spark in her eyes. That sword… it felt familiar.

But… it was different from the one she’d seen before. Simpler. Cruder.

Li Hao watched the technique unfold, his expression icy and indifferent.

A Perfect Level technique—remarkable, yes. But still… not enough.

Slowly, he raised the chopstick in his hand.

In an instant, a blinding light erupted from his fingertip.

Sea Without Shore. Rising Moon.

A full moon, sudden and radiant, burst into the sky—illuminating the entire courtyard.

It lit up every pair of eyes.

Even in broad daylight, that moon’s brilliance could not be hidden—dazzling, overwhelming.

Jian Wudao, who had just lamented how wasted a talent Li Qianfeng was—how tragic it was he hadn’t joined his sect—now snapped upright, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The wrinkles around his eyes seemed to stretch open, as if the very skin had torn from shock.

That’s… entering the True Realm?

He stood, trembling, unable to contain his astonishment, staring at the boy.

No one else in the courtyard was spared the same horror. His four disciples—Bian Ruxue included—were frozen, mouths agape, staring in disbelief.

They were sword cultivators. How could they miss the sheer terror and perfection of that sword technique?

The light from the ancient city wall—long forgotten—reappeared, once more bathing the world in its glow.

Ren Qianqian gripped her black sword case so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were fixed on the light, on the boy’s silhouette.

“Hao Ge!”

From another corner, Li Yuanzhao clenched his fists, trembling with emotion.

“What…?” Liu Yuerong’s mocking smirk vanished, replaced by shock. She was speechless.

Beside her, Sword Saint Jiang Haiping and Bodhisattva Lin Wujing exchanged stunned glances. They had never expected Li Hao’s sword art to reach such a level—this was a once-in-a-thousand-years sword prodigy!

But the most profound shock came from Li Qianfeng.

He was stunned—his own Perfect Level technique was already extraordinary. Even his third uncle at that age hadn’t matched it.

Yet this boy…

Before he could process further, the moon—born from a single chopstick—crashed down upon him.

Li Qianfeng roared in fury, his eyes wild with shame. His hair flared. He screamed, “Break!”

Two identical sword techniques collided—but in an instant, Li Qianfeng was flung backward, crashing into a banquet table. Blood spurted from his mouth.

His luxurious silk robes were torn and shredded. In just one clash, he was already riddled with wounds.

And this was only because Li Hao had used a chopstick. If he’d used a sword—his body would have been torn open, blood spraying in every direction.

Li Qianfeng staggered to his feet, eyes locked on Li Hao—shocked, humiliated.

Even though his sword art was inferior, the gap in weapons was enormous. Yet his sword hadn’t even cut through the chopstick.

He felt it—the moment of impact. The object manipulation force wrapped around his sword, deflecting it violently, preventing true contact.

He’d done this before—used the same method to shatter opponents in the Fifteenth Rank.

But never had he been on the receiving end.

Only overwhelming object manipulation force could achieve such a result.

And yet, he cultivated the most elite spiritual object manipulation technique in the world.

To surpass him… only the Imperial Clan’s Nine Heavens Soaring Cloud Technique could do it.

But even then—how could the gap be this wide?

As Li Qianfeng stared, Li Hao strode forward—calm, deliberate.

Li Qianfeng’s pupils contracted. His heart burned with humiliation and fury. He’d intended to crush Li Hao with his power—but instead, he was being driven back.

He had four years of cultivation advantage!

His eyes nearly burst from their sockets. He suppressed the bloodlust on his face, but within, he raged:

Die!

With a roar, he gathered his power in his chest, unleashing the power bestowed by his master.

Hummm…

A deep, resonant sound like morning bells and evening drums echoed in his mind—like a torrent of power surging through his soul.

Then, overwhelming force flooded his limbs, his qi and blood surging to their peak. His power skyrocketed.

And in that instant, his unopened Great Meridians—those hidden pathways—snapped open one by one. The raw, chaotic power poured into them, filling them to bursting—even if only temporarily.

In the blink of an eye, Li Qianfeng’s Great Meridians leaped from 58 to 82.

The Li Clan’s Pulse-Opening Technique opened 54 major meridians. The Wuliangshan Buddha Master’s top-tier version opened 58. The Royal Family’s best technique opened 62.

But now, under this surge, Li Qianfeng had pierced through to 82—twenty more than the royal standard.

The sudden expansion of his meridians flooded his body with a sense of boundless flow. In his mind, the low chant of a Buddha echoed. His soul energy surged, his mind clearer than ever, his soul force expanding at breakneck speed—from twenty li to thirty li!

Even the Imperial Clan would pale in comparison.

As his spirit soul power grew, so did his object control.

Li Qianfeng felt his entire body blazing with power. He felt as if he could pluck stars from the sky, grasp the moon with his hands.

His eyes turned deadly. He rose from the ground, facing the boy.

Then, with a flicker of motion, he vanished—like a streak of light, enhanced by object control, teleporting across space in an instant.

He wouldn’t give Li Hao time to react. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to interfere.

One sword. One strike. He would erase Li Hao.

The surge of Li Qianfeng’s aura drew gasps from the crowd. No one recognized the combat technique—but all felt its terrifying power.

Li Qingzheng’s face darkened. He was about to step in—when suddenly, Li Hao’s figure accelerated.

Not fleeing.

Charging forward.

Two figures collided in a blur—so fast that even the Fifteenth Rank cultivators could barely see more than faint gray afterimages.

Li Qianfeng slashed downward—but the moment his sword met the chopstick, he felt a sudden, overwhelming tiger-like aura. His pupils contracted. Shock filled his eyes.

The sword struck the chopstick—but it missed.

The chopstick shot straight for his eye socket.

Reacting instinctively, Li Qianfeng swung his other hand in a Buddhist Palm technique—hand combat, enhanced for weapon mastery.

But that very arm—once meant to block—was seized by Li Hao, faster than thought.

His palm was crushed like a sponge.

98 meridians. 369 circulating qi. Yin-Yang Dual Meridians—doubled in power in an instant.

The hand shattered completely—flesh and bone reduced to pulp.

Before Li Qianfeng could scream, the chopstick plunged straight into his eyeball.

Boom!

A shockwave erupted outward.

But at the same time, a far greater, protective aura enveloped Li Hao—shielding him from the blast.

A flash of white—like snow in motion.

The Bodhisattva from the Buddha sect appeared between them in an instant, separating the two. He lifted Li Qianfeng away, hurling him back ten meters.

“Fierce… ruthless strike!”

Lin Wujing’s eyes narrowed coldly, glancing at Li Hao—then turning to the bleeding Li Qianfeng, his eye socket pierced.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end