Chapter 139: The Divine General's Residence Lost Him (Part 2)

"One strike," Li Hao mused after a brief pause, speaking with calm sincerity.

Ren Qianqian's eyes sparkled with excitement, unshaken by doubt. After all, Li Hao’s Sword Art Realm far surpassed her own—she’d barely managed to hold her own against him for a few exchanges.

"What about someone at the tenth level of the Continuation of Soul Realm?" she pressed, eager to test the limits.

"One strike."

"...And someone just stepping into the Divine Travel Realm?"

"One strike."

"...!"

Seeing Ren Qianqian’s stunned expression, Li Hao smiled faintly and turned away. "Come on. We’ve had enough fun. Let’s head back and rest."

Ren Qianqian snapped back to her senses and hurried to catch up with Li Hao’s pace. "Young Master," she asked, breathless, "are you serious? Is it really just your Sword Art?"

Li Hao lightly tapped her head. "Don’t compare yourself to me."

His Great Meridian and Circulation Technique, both cultivated from the Heavenly Human Stage, were among the most refined in existence—powerful enough to sustain cross-realm combat. Combined with his Continuation of Soul Realm, his soul formation was so dense and refined that even a single level of Continuation of Soul Realm equaled the cultivation of someone five levels deeper. Add in the Yin-Yang Dual Meridians, and he could dispatch a Martial Practitioner just stepping into the Divine Travel Realm in one strike.

If he used his Sword Art as well? That calculation became far too complex.

Ren Qianqian clutched her sword in one hand and rubbed her head with the other, pouting slightly. But she knew deep down—Li Hao wasn’t exaggerating. Comparing herself to him would only shatter her spirit.

"Just follow your own Sword Dao," Li Hao said gently. "Don’t measure yourself against others."

Ren Qianqian’s heart jolted. Follow your own Sword Dao… don’t compare… She looked at the young man’s back ahead of her, silently wondering: Is that how he walks too?

As the two departed, on the opposite side of the city, near the Spirit Travel Stage Arena, a gathering of figures slowly approached.

One woman paused mid-step.

"What’s wrong, Yueyao?" Lin Feifei asked, surprised.

"I… just thought I saw Li Shi," Song Yueyao said, halting and peering toward the distance.

"That’s the Soul Succession Stage Arena over there, isn’t it?" Lin Feifei followed her gaze, frowning.

Song Yueyao squinted at the flickering figures in the distance, her brow furrowing slightly. Then she shook her head. "No… probably just my eyes playing tricks. Someone at his level wouldn’t be down there."

She dismissed it, turning back. "Let’s go. Let’s see what the Divine Travel Realm masters from across the provinces are really like."

"Right," Lin Feifei replied, her eyes alight with anticipation. The desire to compete was in every martial cultivator’s heart.

Time passed swiftly.

Li Hao and Ren Qianqian settled into an inn within the city, spending their days eating, drinking, and strolling through the streets. Three days slipped by in a blink.

During that time, Ren Qianqian returned to the Soul Succession Stage Arena for sparring matches, achieving decent results—but still failing to crack the top ten. Her cultivation realm was too low. She’d only just entered the Soul Inheritance Stage, and hadn’t yet fully refined her Soul Condensation Art. She had the realm, but not the power.

The top contenders were all at the peak of the Soul Succession Realm, prodigies from renowned sects, or rare talents blessed by fortune from some ancient cliffside hermit.

After that, Li Hao stopped accompanying her. Instead, he roamed the city, searching for rare paintings and ancient chess manuals.

To his surprise, though he couldn’t find the chess manual, he learned of two famous paintings in the collection of a wealthy nobleman.

Unfortunately, one was a forgery—worthless. But the other was a genuine masterpiece by a legendary painter, titled A Thousand Sails Pass the River.

The nobleman had no intention of selling—he collected art purely for personal pleasure. Silver coins meant nothing to him. And if Li Hao tried to steal it, the painting would instantly rot, vanishing from the world.

The nobleman was kind and generous. Li Hao quickly abandoned the idea.

But the nobleman’s son was a martial arts enthusiast. Li Hao casually demonstrated his strength, effortlessly suppressing the man’s martial instructors in the courtyard. The boy and the instructors were thoroughly impressed.

Li Hao then offered a deal: he would find a renowned master to train the boy, and in return, the nobleman would hand over the painting.

So, on the day of the Master Assembly, Li Hao wasn’t alone. Beside Ren Qianqian stood the nobleman’s young son—Han Wu, about Li Hao’s age.

"There’s the Master’s Arena," Han Wu said, eyeing the inner sanctum with awe. "But we don’t have an invitation. We can’t enter the inner arena."

Li Hao didn’t even glance at him. "We can."

He already walked forward. Though he had no invitation, his Heavenly Human Stage cultivation allowed him direct entry.

Two twin youths from the Heavenly Insight Tower blocked their path, polite but firm. They assumed the three were disciples following their masters—or noble youths seeking a master.

Li Hao had no invitation. He simply raised a hand and lightly tapped the nearby Dragon-Ridged Drum.

The drum, wrapped in the hide of a spirit beast with dragon scales, required a Sect Master’s power to vibrate. Inside was a clever force mechanism—no matter how strong a Fifteen Li Stage cultivator, brute force alone couldn’t stir it. Yet Li Hao’s light, effortless tap sent a deep, resonant thrum through the air.

The twin youths froze. Their eyes widened in shock, staring at Li Hao.

Han Wu jumped back, stunned. He’d seen Li Hao defeat martial instructors before—but he’d thought Li Hao was only at the Divine Travel Realm. At such a young age, that was already legendary. But this… this was Celestial Human Sect Master level?

"You… you can’t be…" The twins stammered.

They’d never seen the Qianzhou legend in person—but no one else at this age had reached the Sect Master Realm. The world’s only possibility was this young man.

"Can we go in now?" Li Hao asked calmly.

The twins snapped out of their shock, their expressions alight with excitement. They stepped aside immediately.

Ren Qianqian, already aware of Li Hao’s realm, simply smiled. Han Wu finally snapped out of his daze and hurried after, trembling with awe, too nervous to speak.

Behind them, a few figures approached slowly, having witnessed the scene. The young man in saffron robes narrowed his eyes, silently taking note.

The Master’s Arena wasn’t in the city center. It stood beside the river outside the city moat—the famed Dragon River of Daliang Prefecture.

Seven thousand li long, the Dragon River snaked through half the prefecture, linking dozens of cities. Now, the waters surged violently, churning up thick, muddy yellow waves. Along its banks stood a grand Dao field. When the river surged, splashes occasionally lashed against the arena’s edges.

The place was both majestic and perilous—perfect for stirring the hearts of cultivators, awakening a fierce, unyielding spirit.

Here, masters competed with the heavens themselves. The environment resonated with the mind state needed for true Dao cultivation.

Inside the Inner Arena, a sea of figures moved. Though only masters and their associates could enter, the sheer number of masters—each bringing five guests—filled the space with vibrant energy. Masters greeted old friends, introduced their disciples, or recommended noble youths who’d paid their way in.

Li Hao scanned the scene. He saw not just martial fervor, but the intricate weave of prestige, influence, and personal gain.

Ren Qianqian and Han Wu felt uneasy. Around them stood masters from across the lands. Above them, the Three Immortal Realm cultivators—those who had nearly stepped beyond the mortal realm—were legends in the making.

"Let’s find a seat," Li Hao said, leading them to an empty table with snacks and drinks. He picked up a pastry, took a bite—average at best—and set it down.

"You’re not… really the fifth-ranked Divine General’s Residence from the Qianlong Ranking, are you?" Han Wu finally blurted out, his voice hushed with awe.

Li Hao shook his head slightly. "You’re overthinking it."

You can’t fool me… Han Wu thought, secretly grinning. His father had always called him “you foolish son—why must you train in martial arts? Just inherit my ten-thousand-talent fortune and be done with it!” But Han Wu knew better. In this age of rampant Demon Beasts, wealth meant nothing. Power was supreme.

He wanted to transform his family from merchant nobility into a true martial lineage—like so many ancient clans whose ancestors had once been commoners. Once that shift happened, his name would be the first in the family’s new genealogy.

And now, that moment was here.

"You… you’re a master, right? Will you take me as your disciple?" Han Wu said, about to kneel.

But before he could touch the ground, a gentle force lifted him back up. Li Hao chuckled inwardly. The boy might be young, but he had the sharp instincts of a merchant.

"I don’t take disciples," Li Hao said.

"I’m hardworking, enduring, kind-hearted—I’ll do anything!" Han Wu insisted, eager to prove himself.

Li Hao waved him off. "I don’t have time to teach. Even if you became my disciple, it wouldn’t matter."

He wasn’t bored of teaching chess or painting—those he could enjoy. But teaching martial arts? That was agony. Only Ren Qianqian’s journey from Qingzhou had compelled him to guide anyone.

"Master…" Han Wu’s face fell into a pitiful expression, eyes watering. "I… I lost my mother when I was young…"

Li Hao blinked. Is he trying to perform a song?

Just then, a voice cut through the air. "Hey—how did you even get in here?"

Li Hao turned. Zhou Haitang and his disciples were approaching.

Zhou Ling’er locked eyes with Ren Qianqian. Her face flushed with embarrassment. She, the daughter of a master, had been defeated by a peer just entering the Soul Succession Stage—humiliation beyond words.

She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t ignore it. Her frustration boiled over, and she glared at Li Hao.

"Master Zhou," Li Hao greeted, bowing slightly—but remained seated. Among masters, they were peers. Only within the same family did age and rank dictate formalities.

Zhou Haitang’s brow twitched. He assumed Li Hao was still resentful of his earlier coldness. Without further ado, he said, "Bai Chunhai is over there."

He pointed. Li Hao followed, spotting an old man in gray robes, calm and kind-faced, chatting with others.

"Thank you," Li Hao said.

Zhou Haitang didn’t pause. He turned and left.

He’d already felt he owed a debt. His daughter had accepted Li Hao’s dagger gift. This gesture was repayment—no more, no less.

In the world of martial arts, debts were dangerous. Some could only be repaid with one’s life—sometimes, with the lives of an entire family.

As the master departed, Xu Wan’er nodded at Li Hao, then followed.

Zhou Ling’er stood frozen, glaring at Li Hao—then, after retreating, she muttered, "They’re probably sneaking in. I’m so furious!"

Zhou Haitang frowned. "That youth was composed, respectful to masters, not arrogant. Likely from a noble family with an invitation. Don’t provoke him. From what Wan’er said, you didn’t even beat his maid."

"Father!"

"Back to the mountain. Seclude yourself. Don’t come down until you’ve reached the Divine Travel Realm."

Zhou Haitang’s voice was firm. Zhou Ling’er stomped her foot, glaring at Xu Wan’er.

Elsewhere, Li Hao stood and approached Master Bai Chunhai.

The old man sat with three others. Behind them stood their disciples—lively and animated.

"Master Bai?" Li Hao asked politely.

The gray-robed elder turned, eyeing Li Hao. "You are?"

Li Hao nodded. "I’ve heard you possess a famous painting. I wish to purchase it. What would it take?"

Bai Chunhai frowned. He spent his days training and painting—his only joy. "Young man, if you want to be my disciple, just say so. No need for games."

A stout middle-aged man beside him—already at the peak of the Fifteen Li Stage—snorted. "Are you mocking us?"

Bai Chunhai raised a hand to silence his disciple. "Young man, I won’t sell. Please leave."

Li Hao understood. To a master like Bai Chunhai, money meant nothing. Only something priceless could tempt him.

"Master Bai," Li Hao said again, "what if I offer advanced martial techniques or rare weapon treasures?"

Bai Chunhai studied him. For the first time, he wondered—was this youth genuinely interested in the painting?

"No," he said calmly. "I have no need. Nothing in this world can buy what I truly cherish. Leave now. Don’t return."

Li Hao paused, surprised. The man was adamant.

Or perhaps he thought Li Hao couldn’t offer anything worthy.

"Master Bai," Li Hao pressed, "I know it’s hard to part with it. But do you have any other interests? I can trade."

"Who are you?" the middle-aged man growled, stepping forward. "My master told you to go. Did you not hear?"

Bai Chunhai raised a hand, blocking him. "Young man, I’ve said it clearly. Leave."

Li Hao studied him, then nodded. "I understand."

He turned and walked away. If no trade, then he’d have to wait for the right moment—a moment to steal.

A gentleman does not take what does not belong to him. But if you force me to break my principles… then I shall no longer be a gentleman.

Returning to his seat, Li Hao had barely sat when a voice rang out in delight.

"Master Li?"

Li Hao turned. A group stood nearby, eyes wide with shock.

It was Song Yueyao and the White Hall disciples—led by Shen Yunqing, Zhao Zongyuan, and Su Yehua.

"Is it really you?" Shen Yunqing laughed, genuinely surprised. "Zhou Zheng just mentioned you, and I didn’t believe it!"

"Master Li!" The White Hall disciples called out, bowing respectfully. Though Li Hao was younger than them, and had only taught two classes, their lives had been transformed by his wisdom.

Song Yueyao’s eyes gleamed. She remembered the figure she’d seen at the Soul Inheritance stage—she hadn’t been mistaken. It really was Li Hao.

"What are you doing here?" Li Hao asked, surprised, rising to greet them.

When he left Qingzhou, they had all come to see him off. He’d avoided saying goodbye—afraid of dragging them into danger. But their kindness remained in his heart.

"Such a grand event? We couldn’t miss it," Zhao Zongyuan smiled.

"You were at the Heavenly Gate Pass. Why are you here?" Su Yehua asked curiously.

"Nothing dangerous there right now. I just came to explore," Li Hao replied.

Shen Yunqing’s smile faded slightly. "If things get too hard… just admit fault to your father. It’s not shameful."

Li Hao looked at him, then placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let’s not talk about the past."

Shen Yunqing sighed inwardly. He didn’t want Li Hao to suffer.

The others fell silent. Only this young man could so boldly abandon a status second only to the Imperial Clan.

"If you need anything at the Heavenly Gate Pass, let me know," Su Yehua said. "I know people here. I can’t help slay demons, but I can ensure your food and drink are never lacking."

"Fair enough. Sit down first," Li Hao invited.

Han Wu stood trembling. These were prodigies from Tan Palace Academy. He’d wanted to join the recruitment, but his father had locked him away.

Qingzhou to Liang Prefecture was five days on horseback—ten days round-trip. His father feared he’d be killed by Demon Beasts.

"Master Li," Zhou Zheng said once seated, "when we graduate, we’ll come find you at the Heavenly Gate Pass."

"Agreed," Song Yueyao added, her gaze fixed on Li Hao with quiet determination.

Shen Yunqing chuckled. "Don’t be ridiculous. The Heavenly Gate Pass is deadly. Don’t go adding to his burdens. He can go there—but you might not survive."

He turned to Li Hao. "I’m not refusing to help. I’m just afraid you’ll be slowed down by them."

"I understand," Li Hao smiled.

He glanced around. "Are all the White Hall disciples here?"

"All but a few," Shen Yunqing replied. "Our invitation quotas were limited. Others had to come through family connections."

Just then, voices rang out from afar.

"Teacher Su!"

"Master Li!"

More young men arrived—White Hall disciples.

Su Yehua glanced at Li Hao. "They say you taught just two classes, and they’ve leaped a full level. These kids really respect you."

She was a Fifteen Li Stage cultivator, newly graduated from White Hall, still teaching Class A students. This Master Assembly was her chance to reach the Human-Heaven Stage.

"Master Li," the disciples bowed, eyes full of reverence.

Though Li Hao had left the Divine General’s Residence, it didn’t diminish their respect.

Li Hao smiled and gestured to Han Wu. "Go get more chairs. We’ll make a bigger table."

As more White Hall disciples arrived, the table erupted into lively chatter. Fifty disciples in total—twenty led by Shen Yunqing, thirty others invited through family ties. Only a handful were missing.

Meeting here, far from home, felt like a reunion. Even though Li Hao had only left Qingzhou a short time ago, the moment carried the weight of long separation.

Their laughter drew glances from across the arena.

At Bai Chunhai’s table, several masters listened in. They recognized Shen Yunqing’s voice—and the names being tossed about.

"Is that youth really the prodigy from Qianzhou?" one gasped.

The one who reached the Qianlong Ranking fifth at fourteen? Who ascended to Master status—unheard of in history?

Bai Chunhai’s disciple, the stout middle-aged man, paled. He’d spoken rudely to this youth—only to realize he was a Master at fourteen?

No wonder he hadn’t responded.

"He’s Li Hao?" another whispered. "That’s why I couldn’t sense his cultivation level.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end