Chapter 132: Repaying the Li Clan – First Act of Gratitude (7K Two-Unity Chapter)

Seeing Li Hao chatting so casually with the Great Demon King, Li Hongzhuang and Li He felt deeply unsettled.

They could clearly sense the immense favor the Great Demon King showed Li Hao—almost as if they were old friends. Such a bond could not be earned by the Li Clan’s name alone, nor even by Li Hao’s extraordinary natural talent. After all, this was a Great Demon King of the Four Foundations Realm.

Even if Li Hao was a prodigy of unparalleled talent, his ultimate limit would likely remain within the Four Foundations Realm—perhaps only brushing the toes of the True Immortal of the Qian Dao Palace. As for transcending the Four Foundations Realm? That was an almost impossible feat. Within the Four Foundations Realm, each step was a chasm of Dao, like climbing the sky itself.

Above the clouds, Feng Bo Ping gave Song Qiumo a slight nod before fading into invisibility, not bothering to descend for pleasantries. He was used to freedom and disliked the tedium of social rituals. He had little in common with most other Four Foundations Realm cultivators—only a rare few could truly engage him in conversation.

Had it not been for Li Hao’s presence, he would have been nothing more than a clear breeze drifting through the mortal world.

When the wind stirs, the heart remains still. But when the heart stirs, the wind can never calm.

“Just how long do you plan to stay?” Li Hao asked Song Qiumo after finishing their meal, leading her to the camp.

Song Qiumo glanced around, her gaze lingering on the solitary small earth mound that passed for a city. A faint frown touched her expression. Then she noticed Ren Qianqian, the sword-wielding maiden, and the nervous little white fox watching her from afar. A soft smile curved her lips.

“How long do you want me to stay?” she asked Li Hao, her tone casual.

Without hesitation, Li Hao replied, “As long as possible.”

Song Qiumo’s lips curled into a quiet smile. “I thought I’d come to repay a small debt—help you survive the hardship, so you’d be eternally grateful. Then, when you reached the Four Foundations Realm, you’d return the favor. But now I see… I’m just an unnecessary flourish.”

She gestured toward the vast, endless desert beyond the border. “This thousand-li stretch of sand… maybe it was missing only one flower.”

Li Hao smiled. “You’re the flower.”

Song Qiumo blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected such a reply. A faint blush touched her cheeks. She gave him a playful side-eye before saying, “I’ll stay… at most, half a year.”

Li Hao nodded. He understood—she had commitments. That half a year was already generous.

“Whatever you want to eat, just say the word,” Li Hao said with a grin.

“Small fragrant crispy cakes.”

“Done.”

The camp had no flour or ingredients, so Li Hao fetched paper and ink, jotting down a long list of everything he needed—filled with personal indulgences, his favorite foods, and even brushes, inkstones, and paper. He even added a Go board for leisure.

Though he had no worthy opponent to play against—his experience in the game barely leveled up—it didn’t matter. He’d keep it ready. Someday, a kindred spirit would come.

Li Hao borrowed the topographical map of Liang Prefecture from Li Hongzhuang and handed it to Song Qiumo. “Go to the nearest city and procure supplies.”

Even the nearest city was a thousand li from the frontier pass.

Before, with Old Feng guarding their back, they couldn’t afford to leave. Now, with Song Qiumo handling logistics, the camp’s supplies finally began to flourish.

Li Hao used his Object Manipulation Force to summon trees and stones, building a sturdy fence around the small earth mound. Within it, he constructed elegant pavilions and halls from living wood.

Fifteen Li Stage cultivators, once mere laborers, now served as foremen—perfect for the job.

Watching Li Hao transform this run-down camp into something new, Li Hongzhuang felt a strange illusion: this young man might one day rebuild the city that had once been destroyed!

But the feeling was fleeting. The Great Demon King had said he’d stay only half a year.

When he left, only the elder from the Four Foundations Realm would remain—how long could even he protect Li Hao?

Top-tier cultivators rarely tied themselves to one person.

Not long after, Song Qiumo returned with a mountain of supplies and food. Li Hao had Ren Qianqian and the little white fox help carry everything into the fenced courtyard.

Though the fox couldn’t yet transform, it managed to hold some cool mats and blankets in its paws, standing on its hind legs and tottering forward with clumsy determination.

After half a day of hard work, the place looked brand new.

Yet the fresh scent of new wood still lingered—lacking the warmth of human life.

But a courtyard only became alive when people inhabited it.

Li Hao built a fire, selected choice cuts from demon beast corpses, and began roasting them over the charcoal. He had Ren Qianqian oversee the heat while he kneaded dough, preparing flatbreads for Song Qiumo.

If one ignored the blood-stained ground outside, the pile of demon corpses, and the sea of red beneath the sky, the scene inside the courtyard was peaceful—almost idyllic.

Li Hongzhuang, however, felt a strange emptiness. As if she no longer had a role.

With two Four Foundations Realm masters residing here, the news would spread fast. Unless some foolish minor demons were still stupid enough to come, the great ones would steer clear.

She no longer needed to grip her sword, ready to fight at any moment.

For the first time in over a decade, her body relaxed—slowly unwinding from years of tension.

She sat by the fire, breathing in the rich aroma of roasting meat, watching Li Hao kneading dough.

Suddenly, it felt like a dream.

Who would have thought… in this desolate, perilous frontier, she’d one day find such peace?

Soon, the dough was ready. Under Li Hao’s cultivation energy, fermentation accelerated.

He set up a griddle for pancakes and heated oil for deep-fried crispy snacks—adding chopped cilantro and other spices to heighten the flavor.

“Dinner’s ready!”

He called Old Feng over. Now that his true form was exposed, there was no need to hide.

Old Feng ate without ceremony, devouring roast meat and drinking wine.

Li Hao passed him a pancake stuffed with meat. Old Feng, surprised, took a bite—then burst into praise.

As he savored it, Li Hao casually reached over and snatched his wine bottle, taking two swigs. A wave of warmth spread through him.

Old Feng snapped awake, glaring. He snatched the bottle back—only a little left now.

Seeing Li Hao’s easy familiarity with the elder, Li Hongzhuang and Li He were more confused than ever.

After eating, Feng Bo Ping patted his back and vanished—effortlessly, like a wisp of wind.

Li Hao watched him go, silently sighing.

He knew the old man had left to avoid being recognized. He’d retreated to a tree branch on the mountain, choosing solitude with the wind.

Li Hao felt a pang of guilt. He stood up and began clearing the demon beast carcasses.

He planned to brew the old man a fine wine.

After carefully selecting the best parts from several Three Immortal Great Demons, he returned to the courtyard to begin brewing.

Meanwhile, Song Qiumo slept in the side room, yawning, bored.

Her eyes occasionally drifted to the figure busy with chores—kneading dough, tending fire—and she couldn’t help but smile.

She’d come to deliver the Sword Manual—the ultimate technique of the Tancheng Palace.

But the young man had simply tucked it into his robes, never once glanced at it since.

To him, the most sacred combat scripture in the world—alongside the Heavenly Fortune of the God General’s Mansion—meant less than the smoke rising from a humble kitchen.

What a peculiar little soul…

At dusk, Li Hao finally finished setting up the wine vats, burying them deep in the cellar behind the courtyard.

As the crimson sunset painted the sky, he finally sat in a master’s chair he’d carved from wood, gently swaying. From his chest, he pulled out the combat scripture.

Taiji Qiankun Sword.

Yin and Yang in union.

He flipped through the pages. When he finished, a prompt flashed in his mind: Beginner Level Achieved.

Li Hao closed the manual, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

As the sword art embedded into his mind, a flood of information poured in—its intent, its core, unraveling before him like threads pulled from a tapestry.

What is “Tai”? More than “great.”

What is “great”? Heaven and earth.

All things in heaven and earth possess Dao. My understanding of artistic conception… is still shallow. These combat scriptures—though different—share common roots. If I could merge them… perhaps I could forge a universal technique.

A revelation stirred within him.

Now at the Human-Heaven Stage, having entered the Heavenly Gate, his spirit and body one—this was a half-step toward transcendence.

His thoughts were no longer bound by cultivation techniques. He could see the marvels in all combat scriptures, yet he didn’t need to follow their forms.

His master path was all things.

But even now, he’d only just begun.

If he could reach the ultimate peak… his journey as a master would be complete.

What would that moment be like?

Li Hao smiled faintly.

Let things unfold naturally.

Just like his master heart—perfect when unforced.

The world doesn’t need to be forced or chased.

Like sunlight warming the earth—no intention, just the natural cycle.

To chase the sun, like Kuafu, is to die of thirst.

The sun is warm—but cannot be stared at.

The moon is cold—but shines across ages.

No need to cling to one side of heaven and earth.

All things have their own grace.

The world is like this. People are like this. Combat scriptures are like this.

Li Hao felt his mental state had subtly deepened. The scriptures in his mind shifted, subtly transforming—yet still far from the ultimate peak.

He smiled.

He didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he took out his painting board, paper, and brush.

With his spirit soul soaring, he gazed upon the distant piles of demon beast corpses.

He began to draw.

Each stroke was simple—yet each drawing brought a surge of Painting Art Experience.

In the blink of an eye, two days passed.

The camp outside remained eerily quiet. No demons approached.

Li Hao, grateful for the peace, painted over a thousand images—repeatedly sketching the corpses until every detail was captured.

His Painting Art level surged, approaching the Sixth Level.

Now, he was close to the threshold—only a few hundred points from breaking through to Seventh Level.

But to reach Seventh Level, he’d need to enter the Spirit Stage—a step that still eluded him.

“Enter the Spirit… when will I finally enter the Spirit?” he murmured, puzzled.

He put down the brush.

Instead, he resumed transcribing combat scriptures—recording every refinement and advancement, one by one.

At noon, smoke curled from the camp’s kitchen.

Suddenly, a rider galloped into view.

Feng Bo Ping, sensing something, flickered—then vanished beside the half-cooked roast.

The others barely noticed. Their attention turned to the newcomer.

Li Hongzhuang narrowed her eyes. “Chu Gonggong?”

She recognized him. He’d once come to their home when her father was given an imperial decree.

Chu Jiuyue rode through the gate, his gaze sharpening as he took in the devastation—the crimson-red earth, cracked and pitted, soaked in blood.

His eyes scanned the camp.

Tattered tents lay scattered.

And beside them—mountains of demon beast corpses, some already rotting.

The stench of decay and foul qi made him grimace. But he masked it quickly.

Then his gaze fell on the camp’s center.

And his expression froze.

Amidst the ruin, a small, fenced courtyard stood—smoke curling from its kitchen, like a humble farmhouse.

A farmhouse in the frontier?

Impossible.

He dismounted, followed by his court guards.

As he stepped into the courtyard, his eyes met Song Qiumo’s. She looked up, calm, expressionless.

Then he saw Li Hao and Li Hongzhuang.

Ah. That explains the peace.

The Great Demon King was here.

Even the Tancheng Palace’s reclusive worldview had made an exception.

He entered.

“The Imperial Edict of Emperor Yu,” he announced softly. “Li Hao, Baron Rank, receive the decree.”

Li Hao recognized him and wiped flour from his hands. He bowed slightly. “Gonggong. Long time no see.”

“Are you well, Master Li?” Chu Jiuyue asked, smiling.

Li Hao hesitated, then nodded. “All is well.”

“Emperor Yu, moved by your bravery in defending the frontier pass, grants you a Treasured Sword. Accept it.”

Chu Jiuyue handed over a dark gold sword.

Li Hao was surprised—but took it with both hands. “Thank you, Emperor Yu. Thank you, Gonggong.”

“No need for thanks,” Chu Jiuyue said. “I’m only a messenger.”

Then, softly: “The Emperor says… if you wish, you may travel to Dayu Prefecture at any time and join the Outer Hall of the Qian Dao Palace. You may hear the Divine Voice of the Sage.”

Li Hongzhuang and Li He shot to their feet, stunned.

This young master… favored by Emperor Yu?

The Qian Dao Palace’s cultivation path—reserved for only the Imperial Heir.

Even among princes, only the strongest were chosen.

And Li Hao was the heir of the God General’s Mansion—possibly the future True Dragon.

To join the Qian Dao Palace now… would make his ties with the imperial family too close.

How would the other Four Divine Generals’ mansions react?

This favor was terrifying.

Li Hao was equally stunned.

Did Emperor Yu actually see me?

Could it have been that old man beneath the willow tree… the one who played chess with him?

There was no other explanation.

He looked at Chu Jiuyue, who still smiled kindly.

“Thank you for the Emperor’s kindness,” Li Hao said. “But I have a mission to fulfill. I hope the Emperor will understand.”

Chu Jiuyue frowned. He studied Li Hao.

Is this boy truly serious?

He’d heard about the father-son battle. He knew the truth.

Was Li Hao truly ready to cut ties with his father? To abandon his noble name, his wealth, his honor… and now, this chance to train in the Qian Dao Palace?

He stared deeply into Li Hao’s eyes.

“You’re young,” he said. “Don’t make decisions too hastily.”

“Thank you for conveying the message.” Li Hao bowed.

Chu Jiuyue knew he wouldn’t change his mind. He nodded. “Then I’ll report back exactly as you said.”

Li Hao nodded.

Chu Jiuyue turned, mounted his horse, and left.

Only when he’d ridden ten li beyond the camp did he pause.

…I left too soon. The roast meat smelled good…

His stomach growled.

He shook his head. A good horse doesn’t look back.

He urged his mount forward—full speed ahead.

…

…

Inside the courtyard, Li Hongzhuang and Li He had heard everything.

They saw the resolve in Li Hao’s eyes.

They wanted to speak—but couldn’t.

Abandoning the Qian Dao Palace’s cultivation path? That was more than determination. That was willpower beyond comprehension.

They knew their words would be useless.

Li Hao returned to the fire.

Song Qiumo glanced at the sword in his hand.

“Nice sword,” she said.

Li Hao gripped the hilt and drew it.

Clang!

The blade sang—a dragon roared through the air. A flash of light split the sky.

Even the edge, drawn for just a moment, was blinding.

“Longxiao!” Li He gasped, eyes wide with shock.

Li Hongzhuang paled.

The Emperor had bestowed a sword of legendary status—Number One of the Ten Greatest Swords.

Its name and prestige surpassed even Eternal Night.

Eternal Night took ten years to forge, and only three years of use before sealing again.

Longxiao had passed through the hands of great warriors in the Great Yu Dynasty for centuries.

It had once been the side-sword of a Sword Saint.

“Indeed, a fine blade,” Li Hao murmured, tapping the edge.

A deep, rumbling dragon roar echoed—like a blood-chilling aura.

He sheathed it, handing it to Ren Qianqian.

She took it with both hands, eyes wide with awe.

She’d heard of Longxiao—her father had never even seen it.

Now she was holding it.

“The roast is ready,” Li Hao said with a smile.

Li Hongzhuang and Li He snapped back to reality, their expressions complex.

Then, without a sound, a figure appeared—Old Feng, just vanished moments before.

He didn’t care about the sword. He glanced at it, then pulled out his wine gourd and began drinking.

That night, Li Hao transcribed 124 combat scriptures—his refined, advanced-level versions of the Li Clan’s techniques, learned from the Pavilion of Listening to Rain.

The lower-grade texts he’d once studied? Now upgraded to upper-grade.

He’d returned principal and interest.

In addition, he’d written three ultimate techniques—born from his own artistic conception, forged after entering the Sect Master Realm.

He placed them all in a bundle, entrusted to Song Qiumo.

“Take them to Liang Prefecture. Find the Li Clan’s garrison. Have them send them back to the main family.”

…

…

A few days later.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end