Chapter 12: The News of Death

Lin Haixia had finally left.

But unlike the previous melancholy and regret, this time he carried an exhilaration so intense it nearly made him leap with joy—almost sprinting out of Divine General’s Residence.

He wanted to deliver this monumental news to the Commander of the Frontier Region as swiftly as possible.

If they learned their child possessed a Sword Dao Talent once in a thousand years, they would surely be overjoyed and deeply moved!

That single strike—Lin Haixia had understood it, yet not fully.

He recognized the technique: the most legendary sword art in the Li family’s collection—Sea Without Horizon · Tidal Sword Decree.

Yet, even when compared to the perfected versions of the Tidal Sword Decree he had seen—masterpieces of Skillful-level mastery—it stood equal, or perhaps even surpassed them in a certain profound, ineffable quality.

After racking his mind, he could only settle on two words:

Perfectly Round.

Even beyond Perfect—truly flawless.

Lin Haixia knew that beyond the realm of Combat Techniques Perfect, there existed a deeper level—Supreme Perfection.

Even those who had devoted decades to mastering a single technique often failed to reach it.

Beyond relentless practice, it required divine talent.

And yet, this world-shattering strike had just emerged from Li Hao’s hands.

A six-year-old child.

Even the most prodigious geniuses struggled to master a single technique at such a young age.

To reach Skillful level by six was already extraordinary.

Yet Lin Haixia had never once seen Li Hao train with a sword.

Still, he couldn’t help but suspect the boy had been practicing in secret.

But no matter one’s wealth or status, time remained equal—twelve hours each day.

When Lin Haixia observed Li Hao, the majority of his time was spent playing chess, wandering, daydreaming, indulging in food and drink.

Never once had he seen him touch a sword, let alone train.

Even if he practiced in secret, how much time could he possibly steal?

He asked Li Hao: Why did you secretly train? Why hide such a legendary talent?

But Li Hao only smiled and shook his head, silent.

Lin Haixia thought of many things—the intrigues of royal bloodlines, the bitter feuds of noble houses—rumors he had heard in passing. A vague suspicion stirred in his heart.

Looking at Li Hao’s calm, smiling face, Lin Haixia felt a lump rise in his throat.

He understood—had the man from the Frontier Region returned, this child would never have to hide, never have to endure such quiet obscurity.

Li Hao was meant to shine like a star in the sky, yet here he was, crouched low, suppressing his brilliance.

Only because he saw through Li Hao’s true nature—only then would he have been allowed to glimpse this hidden self…

Touched and moved, Lin Haixia felt a deep sense of pride.

That one sword strike hadn’t just revealed Li Hao’s Sword Dao Talent.

Combined with the boy’s sharp words and mature demeanor, it finally confirmed: this child was not just gifted—he was extraordinarily wise.

...

Lin Haixia left in a hurry, even failing to greet Bian Ruxue as he passed through the front courtyard.

With his departure, the courtyard returned to its usual serenity.

But now, at six years old, Li Hao was required to rise early each day and pay morning respects at Changchun Courtyard—part of the ritual to cultivate in the young the values of reverence for teachers and gratitude for kindness.

As Bian Ruxue, Li Hao’s childhood fiancée, was already considered half of the Li family, she naturally accompanied him.

During these morning rituals, he occasionally met other children from the various courtyards—only about four or five in total, of similar age.

There was Second Lady’s second son and youngest daughter.

The sole surviving son of Sixth Lady.

The son and daughter of Eighth Lady.

The rest had either been taken by renowned masters due to their exceptional talent—like Li Qianfeng or Li Wushuang—or had grown too old, enlisting in the army to pursue military glory.

Even the children of the First Lady had long since reached their twenties, serving as junior generals in the military.

They only returned occasionally when there was no war.

Yet as members of the Li family, they had long since internalized the military code—discipline etched into their bones.

They led by example, and so the First Lady rarely saw her own children.

After the morning ceremony, He Jianlan invited Li Hao and Bian Ruxue to stay for a nutritious breakfast.

While seated, Li Hao chatted casually with the dignified, composed lady, and only then did the two small figures sway back to their own courtyard.

Li Hao resumed his usual state—gazing blankly, lost in thought, playing chess in his mind.

Bian Ruxue practiced sword forms in the courtyard, diligently training with the high-grade sword technique Lin Haixia had taught her—enough to occupy her for years.

The peace and stillness of this moment seemed destined to stretch on, unbroken.

Until, several days later, a sudden message arrived back at Divine General’s Residence.

Lin Haixia had returned.

But not alive.

A towering warrior, clad in heavy armor, eyes cold and piercing, brought him back—only a single hand.

When Li Hao heard the news from Zhao Bo, he froze.

The chess piece in his hand slipped to the floor—but he didn’t even glance at it.

Without bothering to put on his boots, he raced barefoot from the courtyard, dashing toward Changchun Courtyard.

The maidservant at the gate tried to announce him, but Li Hao had already burst through the doors.

Inside, he saw the main hall of Changchun Courtyard—his usual place for morning prayers—now occupied by a warrior kneeling on one knee.

Li Hao’s heart lurched.

Past the warrior, he saw a red cloth on the ground—on it lay a severed hand.

The wound was torn apart, flesh and bone exposed, uneven and ragged.

The green sleeve band—it was the same clothing Lin Haixia wore when he left.

That hand had only days ago ruffled the head of a little girl.

Beside him, the warrior was reporting to He Jianlan:

“Captain Lin was ambushed by Spirit Beast demons along the Qizhou National Road during his journey to Yanbei.”

“The Yanbei Battlefield remains stalled. Recently, Spirit Beast demons have infiltrated cities across Yanbei, attempting to scatter our forces. Similar incidents have been reported in other provinces…”

“Wait,” He Jianlan interrupted.

She paused, eyes flickering as she looked at Li Hao—barefoot, breathless, rushing into the hall.

Then it struck her.

Her expression softened, and she gave a quiet sigh.

“Xuejian,” she said, “take the arm away.”

“Yes.”

Xuejian nodded, her delicate eyes briefly meeting Li Hao’s as she stepped forward.

She knew this child well.

She knew the arm belonged to the man who had been Li Hao’s hidden mentor—his half-teacher.

But in a family of military elite, she had seen too many departures—too many deaths.

She felt sorrow, but no more.

As Xuejian approached, Li Hao stepped forward and blocked her path.

Ignoring her startled gaze, he turned to the warrior, his eyes locked with the man’s.

“Which Spirit Beast demon killed Lin Shu?”

The warrior looked up—facing a boy barely his height, kneeling on one knee, yet his eyes burned with such icy fury, such adult-like intensity, it chilled him.

From the jade pendant at the boy’s waist, he recognized the mark of the Li family’s麒麟 child—though he couldn’t tell which branch.

He answered truthfully:

“A Fourth Realm Millennial Demon Beast. It led several Spirit Beast demons in an ambush. They devoured Captain Lin. By the time the city guard from Qizhou arrived, only this arm remained.”

Devoured.

Li Hao’s mind exploded.

His eyes burned red. Blood surged through his veins, pounding in his ears like war drums.

He could picture it—how brutal, how merciless.

Though he had heard much about Spirit Beast demons from the world around him, he had never truly seen one.

He knew war was cruel—but this was the first time he had faced such horror, so raw and immediate.

“Did that demon have a name?” Li Hao asked, voice low.

“Yes,” the warrior replied. “It dwells outside Qizhou City. It calls itself the Tiger-Robe Immortal.”

Li Hao etched the name into his heart.

A surge of killing intent surged within him—unbearable, overwhelming.

Yet he held it back.

He didn’t ask further.

Instead, he knelt, picked up the red cloth, and carefully wrapped the severed hand, covering it.

Then he looked up at He Jianlan on the dais.

“Madam,” he said, “I’m taking Lin Shu’s hand back. I apologize for my rudeness today.”

With that, he turned, barefoot, clutching the wrapped arm, and walked away.

He Jianlan’s eyes flickered.

For the first time, she sensed something in Li Hao—something rare, something beyond his years.

This child was far more mature, far more intelligent than she had ever imagined.

“Xuejian,” she said softly, “bring Chengzhi’s boots to Hao.”

Xuejian nodded and went to the side chamber to fetch the shoes.

But as she stepped out, she saw only an empty path—Li Hao had already vanished.

...

Back at Mountain and River Courtyard.

Li Hao found a quiet spot and buried the hand beneath the earth.

Then he carved a wooden plaque, inscribed with the name: Lin Haixia, and planted it into the soil.

He ordered Zhao Bo to fence off the area—Restricted. No one allowed to enter.

Zhao Bo, upon learning what lay beneath, quickly protested:

“Master, this is a family residence. We cannot bury a corpse here. There is the Martyr’s Cemetery—let us send Captain Lin there.”

“Let us prepare a proper coffin tomb for Lin Shu,” he insisted.

Li Hao shook his head, glancing at the vast courtyard.

“This Mountain and River Courtyard can hold one hand.”

“Master…” Zhao Bo began again, but Li Hao silenced him with a look.

He only said:

“See to Lin Shu’s family. Provide them with proper compensation. Treat them well.”

Zhao Bo hesitated, then nodded.

“The military in Yanbei should already know. They’ll take care of his family.”

“Yanbei is Yanbei,” Li Hao said calmly. “This is here. You know what I mean.”

Zhao Bo paused, then slowly nodded.

“I understand.”

Lin Haixia’s death—like a small stone dropped into a still pond—sent only ripples through Divine General’s Residence.

The other courtyards carried on as usual.

But in Mountain and River Courtyard, Li Hao grew even more obsessed with chess.

Even Bian Ruxue’s sword practice went ignored.

He didn’t tell her about Lin Shu.

Not wanting her to grieve.

Time passed.

One day, Li Hao awoke abruptly from a dream.

He was playing chess with Lin Shu—then, from outside the board, a massive tiger charged in, knocked over the chess set, and pinned Lin Shu to the ground, biting into his neck.

He sat up in bed, gasping for breath.

Beside him, the little girl stirred, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

“Hao Gege… what’s wrong?”

Li Hao snapped back to reality.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head.

Once she fell asleep again, he gently pulled the blanket back over her.

Then he rose and walked to the window.

Moonlight poured in.

And suddenly, before his eyes, words appeared in the air:

> [You have awakened the Chess Heart.]

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end