Chapter 120: Dragon Gate Road

Bian Ruxue tilted her head slightly upward.

Before her, by the campfire, sat a young man with a gentle, warm smile.

Yet despite the familiar expression, she felt an odd sensation—though the smile remained unchanged, something had shifted between them, as if an invisible distance had grown between them, vast and unbridgeable.

But the feeling vanished instantly, like a fleeting illusion.

Her thoughts turned to the Sword.

The restless, drifting heart of a drifting weed suddenly found a place to settle.

She thought of the Peak of the Sword Path—the ultimate legendary Sword Art.

Softly, she said, “Big Brother Hao… you have greater natural talent than me. Maybe you’ll reach it faster than I ever could.”

“Not necessarily,” Li Hao said, spreading his hands slightly. “You saw it yourself—I don’t even have a Sword.”

"...?"

Bian Ruxue stared, then let out a bitter laugh.

A Sword Saint without a Sword? Then he wasn’t a Sword Saint at all.

Yet the memory of the flawless, breathtaking Sword he had wielded in his battle against Li Tiangang still lingered in her mind.

That masterful Sword Art, that overwhelming Sword Intent—how could someone who exuded such power be so indifferent to the Sword?

It had always been this way.

Big Brother Hao… what did he truly care about?

At that moment, a shadow slipped silently down from the treetops and landed softly on the ground beside the campfire, snapping her from her thoughts. Her eyes cleared instantly, and she turned to look.

A tall old man in a faded blue robe stood there, his beard and hair completely white, his topknot loosely tied with a worn wooden hairpin slanted sideways.

He flopped down casually onto a wooden stump by the fire, waved a hand toward the roasted tiger meat, and chuckled.

“No seasonings at all, yet this still tastes delicious. You’d make a great cook—if only you had the chance.”

“I’d love to be one,” Li Hao smiled. “But opportunity never knocks.”

“Is it done?”

“Ready to eat.”

Without further hesitation, Feng Bo Ping grabbed a roasted tiger paw, blew on it, and took a huge bite.

The meat was split open with deep cuts, salted generously, and seasoned with wild herbs Li Hao had gathered along the way—crushed and rubbed into the flesh. Now, after roasting, every flavor had seeped deep into the meat.

Feng Bo Ping devoured it with gusto, juice dripping down his chin, utterly unbothered by appearances.

Li Hao chuckled, then drew Ren Qianqian’s side sword and used it like a cleaver.

He carved off a chunk, then gathered a large mulberry leaf as a plate, handing it to her.

“Thank you, Young Master,” Ren Qianqian said with a gentle smile, taking it with both hands.

Li Hao repeated the process, slicing another paw and placing it on a fresh leaf, then waved at Bian Ruxue.

After days of relentless pursuit and restless travel, she hadn’t eaten or slept well. Now, her stomach growled. The scent was irresistible.

She stepped forward, took the leaf, glanced at the meat, didn’t hesitate, snapped a twig to use as chopsticks, and took a bite.

“Wow… this is incredible!”

The moment the meat touched her tongue, her eyes widened slightly. The flavor was astonishing.

She’d cultivated at the Sword Pavilion, where luxury had no place. Her Master had always said: If one grows attached to pleasure, the Sword Heart will rot. How can the heart hold the Sword when it’s full of food, drink, and idle pleasures?

So the meals at the Pavilion were always plain, simple.

“Eat as much as you want,” Li Hao said with a smile.

He took a tiger paw himself, cut off a chunk, tossed it to Little White Fox, then blew on the rest before biting into it.

Feng Bo Ping laughed heartily. “Little Squirrel, you haven’t even married him yet, and you’re already scolding him?”

Li Hao merely smiled faintly, didn’t respond, and kept eating.

Bian Ruxue flushed slightly, then sighed inwardly. She couldn’t convince him, so she lowered her head and ate quietly, properly.

Dark forest. Flickering stars.

Long night.

After they’d all eaten their fill, they settled down to rest.

Li Hao lay comfortably before the campfire, his face peaceful, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Bian Ruxue sat by the fire, occasionally adding a log to keep the flames alive. Her eyes kept drifting toward the boy, her gaze growing still, thoughtful.

He’d just left the Divine General’s Residence. He’d been severely wounded. He’d broken ties with his father…

Yet here he was, sleeping so soundly, so at ease.

What dreams haunted him? Who walked through his sleep?

She didn’t know. Slowly, she turned her gaze away, watching the dancing sparks in the fire.

Birds startled in the trees. Dawn’s first light crept over the horizon.

The fire died down.

Another day had begun.

At the forest’s edge, on the road leading into Liang Prefecture, Li Hao parted ways with Bian Ruxue, telling her to return. No need to worry.

She had said all she needed to. No longer insisting, she sheathed her sword, turned back three times—only to find the young man already gone.

Without hesitation, she retraced her steps along the path she’d come.

A quiet relief welled up inside her.

If Li Hao no longer needed her by his side, then she could now fully devote herself to her own Sword Dao.

“Big Brother Hao… I’ll climb the Peak of the Sword Path. And when I do, I’ll tell you what I’ve seen.”

Her voice was soft, but her eyes were steady.

…

…

Following the Imperial Road, the emerald cypresses grew sparser. In places, the trees had been crushed, trampled—cleared and never replanted.

The road itself became worn and broken. Cracks split the surface. Deep, massive indentations marked the ground—like the passage of a colossal serpent, slithering through the road, crushing it beneath its weight.

“This is where it ends,” Feng Bo Ping murmured, his expression darkening.

The Dragon Gate Road stretched from the frontier’s Imperial Road like a sharp spear, piercing deep into the wilderness for thousands of miles—its end was the Heavenly Gate Pass, where the Li Clan’s garrison stood, guarding Cangya City.

This road was the only way to reach the Heavenly Gate Pass. It was long—riders on horseback took a full day to cross.

Centuries ago, Emperor Yu had forged this path, leading his ancestral spirits of the Li Clan in a relentless campaign to conquer this land.

With this road, Emperor Yu’s armies could march without delay, striking deep into the Beilin Kingdom beyond the pass.

Beilin had once been one of the six neighboring states subdued by Emperor Yu, now a vassal of the Great Yu Dynasty.

But the dynasty had fallen from glory. And the vassal states—once loyal—now seemed restless, uneasy.

Li Hao gazed ahead, catching sight of a vast white path stretching straight into the distance.

“Coming fast,” he murmured, then continued forward.

Not long after, ahead on the Imperial Road, he spotted an old man and his grandson, both carrying baskets of medicinal herbs.

Though Li Hao moved with leisure, Little White Fox and Ren Qianqian trailing behind, his pace still outpaced theirs. Soon, he drew near, then passed them.

The old man and boy noticed immediately. Their eyes flickered with suspicion, even fear—despite the road being wide and empty. Instinctively, they stepped aside.

Only when they saw Li Hao didn’t even glance their way did they relax.

They followed slowly from a distance, careful not to draw attention.

But to Li Hao, the entire exchange was strange.

People here were deeply wary of strangers—almost terrified.

“Young man,” a frail voice called from behind.

Li Hao stopped.

He turned, surprised to see the old man had spoken. He smiled. “Can’t go forward?”

The old man peered at Li Hao, then at Ren Qianqian.

Not demons… he thought. Just noble family heirs out to test themselves.

He sighed inwardly.

“Young man… beyond this point lies the Dragon Gate Road.”

“Hmm?” Li Hao tilted his head.

The old man saw the confusion in his eyes, and continued with a weary tone.

“Once you enter the Dragon Gate Road, you can’t go further. It’s overrun with Demon Beasts.”

“Demon Beasts?” Li Hao raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ren Qianqian.

“Dragon Gate Road is still within Emperor Yu’s realm, isn’t it? The Demon Beasts live beyond the Heavenly Gate Pass, not here.”

“The Heavenly Gate Pass?” The old man blinked, then shook his head.

“There is no Heavenly Gate Pass anymore. Only mountains of corpses and seas of blood. The stench of rot and the scent of blood—thick in the air.”

He glanced at the sky, as if realizing the time.

“Son, I see you have a noble heart. A desire to slay demons and save the world. That’s admirable. But this place isn’t a playground. Turn back now. Before nightfall, this road becomes deadly.”

With that, he took his grandson’s hand and walked on.

Only the boy—small, curious—kept glancing back.

When they were a kilometer away, the boy suddenly said, “Grandpa… they just went in.”

“What?”

The old man spun around.

But the Imperial Road ahead was empty.

No trace of the young man or the girl remained.

He let out a long, weary sigh.

“Foolish souls. No warning can save the doomed.”

…

On the Dragon Gate Road, Li Hao and Ren Qianqian continued walking.

But after only a short while, Li Hao froze, his expression shifting. He turned toward the path the old man and boy had taken.

“Young Master?” Ren Qianqian asked, puzzled.

Li Hao didn’t answer. He scanned the area, then spotted a broken stick.

He bent down, picked it up, and with a flick of his wrist, sent a blade of Sword Qi flying.

The Sword Qi cut through the air like a clear breeze—silent, swift, and invisible.

It swept past the Imperial Road, brushing the old man and boy, lifting their hair as if a gentle wind had blown from behind.

Then it raced forward—over twenty li ahead.

There, a beast like a crocodile lay coiled by the roadside, waiting.

It sensed the wind—its pupils narrowed.

It tried to move—

But its body locked up.

Then, from forehead to chest, it split open in a straight line. Blood and organs spilled across the ground.

…

Li Hao smiled faintly, tossed the stick aside, and brushed off his hands.

Then he walked on.

Ren Qianqian watched, confused, but didn’t ask. She’d long grown used to his strange habits.

As they pressed deeper into the Dragon Gate Road, Li Hao saw countless skeletons of Demon Beasts—rotted, reduced to bones, left unburied.

Along the way, he even passed beasts sleeping soundly on the road, treating the once-feared path as their own warm bed.

To them, the road was no longer a danger zone. It was home.

Li Hao didn’t hesitate. Without needing Feng Bo’s help, he dispatched them all with ease.

With each step, his face grew darker.

Now he understood why the old man had warned them.

The Dragon Gate Road—once a grand path carved by Emperor Yu and the Li Clan’s ancestors—was now a wasteland.

Why?

The Li Clan still had garrisons here. Why had this place fallen into ruin?

They walked, stopped, walked again.

Finally, Li Hao, with Ren Qianqian and Little White Fox at his side, reached the end of the Dragon Gate Road.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end