Chapter 145: Li Tiangang, He Defeated Your Younger Self (Part 2)

“What?”

Hearing Li Hao’s words, the disciples of the White Palace were all stunned.

In the face of this overwhelming Demon Tide, with Dayue City on the brink of falling, Li Hao still hadn’t forgotten he owed them one final lesson.

Hummm—

Before anyone could react, the Longxiao Sword in Li Hao’s hand resonated with a deep, icy hum, crackling like frost splitting open. A torrent of sword qi erupted from it—sharp, radiant, spiraling around his arm like a living storm.

“Rising Tides!”

Li Hao stepped onto the sky itself, ascending the city wall as if he were a celestial immortal descending from the clouds. His presence radiated an otherworldly calm, a serene detachment that defied the chaos below.

Within him, the Combat Scripture surged like a tidal wave. He forced his body to push forward once more—this time, summoning the Third Star-Pointing Light.

The power from every great meridian in his body roared toward his palm. For an instant, the air seemed to fill with the distant cries of seabirds and the crash of waves—but it was only the auditory illusion created by sword qi tearing through space.

The Longxiao Sword flew from his grip.

At the same moment, a phantom image of crashing ocean waves flickered across the city wall—a mirage born of pure sword intent. An endless tide of qi surged forward, gathering in a single, devastating strike.

The Longxiao soared into the sky, transforming into a roaring True Dragon, its body coiled in a storm of waves, charging headlong into the Demon Tide at a distance of ten li.

Boom—

The clash was cataclysmic. The sword tide exploded outward in a wave of pure destruction, swallowing everything in its path.

Within the chaos, the Longxiao darted like a dragon playing in the sea, roaring through the ranks of demons. In an instant, it tore through a vast cloud of blood mist, annihilating countless beast warriors.

The sight froze every soldier on the wall, every master, every soul watching—Shen Yunqing among them.

One man, one sword, holding back an entire army of demons.

This was no mere technique. It was the fusion of Rising Moon, Sea Without Shore, and the Snowfall Sword Art, layered with the artistic conception of waves and avalanches. Its depth and mastery barely matched the newly awakened Cyclic Sword Art—but while Cyclic Sword Art was a single, explosive release, this was a vast, sweeping tide of sword power.

Boom, boom, boom, boom—

The sound barrier shattered again and again. The Demon Tide burst apart like rotten sandcastles under a storm surge. The Continuation of Soul Realm, Divine Travel Realm, even the Fifteen Li Stage—all were swept aside like pebbles in a flood, utterly powerless, utterly destroyed.

Only a few Human-Heaven Stage demons managed to hold on, desperately using demon magic and spiritual treasures to survive. But even they couldn’t withstand the relentless tide. As more demons fell, the sword qi grew stronger, merging into concentrated beams that focused on the Great Demons.

Each beam began to take on the form of a Master’s martial realm—

Stars and Moon.

Flowers and Birds.

Falling Leaves. Decay. Sharpness. Swiftness.

Dozens of artistic conceptions rose like waves, crashing into the Demon Tide with the force of a thousand storms.

Shen Yunqing and the others gasped, their pupils shrinking. Zhao Zongyuan shouted urgently: “Quick—watch closely!”

The disciples of the White Palace strained their eyes, not just in awe, but in desperate hunger to understand how this sword was born, how it could create such a world-shattering aura.

“Don’t look at the form!” Shen Yunqing yelled, his voice trembling with excitement. “You don’t understand! He’s not teaching you a move—he’s teaching you the Dao! The Sword Dao!”

His own eyes were locked onto every flicker of intent, memorizing every nuance.

“This is the Master’s Martial Realm he’s achieved?” Su Yehua whispered, stunned. “How can it contain so much…? It’s impossible…”

His mind reeled. Each wave was a different path of cultivation. A universe of mastery unfolding in real time.

On the city wall, even the commanders—some of them Masters themselves, including Bai Chunhai and his disciple—were frozen in place. Bai Chunhai, once defeated by Li Hao, now stared in silent disbelief.

The young man stood still, aloof and serene, radiating a presence so overwhelming it felt like standing before an army of ten thousand.

The sword tide was terrifying—unheard of, unimaginable.

“Quick—look closely!” Bai Chunhai snapped at his disciple.

The hulking man was already entranced, lost in the sea of sword intent, his mind shattered by its magnitude.

“This is the limit of the Sect Master Realm…?” Bai Chunhai murmured. Then, suddenly, he remembered the young man’s request for a painting. If I survive this… I’d be willing to part with it…

Outside the city, the Demon Tide was in ruins. The sword tide had severed them ten li from the gate, preventing any advance.

The front lines were now nothing but blood-soaked skeletons—bodies pierced through, some with wounds so small they seemed impossible to be fatal.

Among them, a Three Immortalities Great Demon watched in horror, its eyes wide with disbelief. No human could possibly produce such power.

Maintaining this volume of sword qi required an endless flow of vitality—impossible unless one reached the Unfading Stage.

“Damn it!” It roared, rage twisting its face. The Minor Demon King was dead. Retreat was not an option.

“Kill!”

It charged forward, roaring through the tide, aiming straight for the dragon-shaped Longxiao.

But the sword sensed it instantly. It shrieked, rising from the chaos, and shot toward the demon like a bolt of lightning.

“Demon Marsh Enveloping Heaven!”

The Great Demon roared, its body erupting in black miasma. The ground beneath it crumbled, turning into a quagmire. From it, a mud dragon surged forth, aiming to devour the sword.

Crack!

The Longxiao exploded with divine light, cleaving the mud dragon in two. The blade pierced through the Great Demon’s body in an instant.

The shattered mud rained down, swept away by the sword tide.

Panic flared in the demon’s eyes. It wasn’t at the Unbroken Realm—its body was too fragile. This sword was too sharp.

Fear overcame pride. It turned to flee.

But the Longxiao pursued.

Then—ROAR!

A dragon’s roar erupted from behind. The sword had broken free from the tide, now a golden dragon soaring through the air, leaping out to tear the demon apart.

The beast’s body shattered under the impact.

Countless sword qi surged, slicing it to pieces.

Its spirit soul screamed as it tried to flee—but the Longxiao whipped around like a whip, crushing it into oblivion.

The Great Demon was gone.

The Longxiao returned to the tide, roaring through the remaining demons, cutting them down like wheat.

Within moments, the once-mighty tide was reduced to a few thousand survivors—terrified, broken, finally realizing they had no choice but to flee.

The Longxiao chased after them, its range spanning a hundred li. The sword tide faded—but the sword itself became a golden needle, darting through the air, eliminating every last demon. Not one escaped.

The soldiers on the wall, who had been tense and sweating with fear, now stood stunned, as if waking from a dream.

In the face of certain doom… one man, one sword, turned the tide.

Unbelievable.

A piercing hum cut through the air.

A golden streak of divine light, traveling from tens of li away, reversed mid-flight and landed in Li Hao’s hand.

Li Hao’s face was pale. The effort had drained him.

Back in Cangyu City, he had faced a similar horde alone—but that battle had already left him exhausted. The demons here were far stronger. The Fifteen Li Stage ones were merely lieutenants. There were seven Human-Heaven Stage demons, and that Three Immortalities Great Demon—each one capable of slaughtering an entire city.

He took a deep breath, steadying his aura. Then he turned to Su Yehua and the others.

“I’ll go check on the others.”

He stepped forward, heading toward another gate.

Behind him, his spirit soul extended, scanning the battlefield. He saw the other walls—Demon Tides had reached them, and chaos reigned.

He activated Spirit Sword Control, diving into the fray.

But this time, he had no energy left for a sword tide. Only the Longxiao’s edge, and the last of his object manipulation force.

Still, with the sword’s precision, the Western Wall’s defenders found their burden lifted.

Masters who had been surrounded, moments from death, were suddenly saved—by a golden streak of light that circled once, then cut down every demon in its path.

The masters recognized the sword. Their faces paled. They looked around—then saw Li Hao, weary and battered, flying in from the distance.

Most of them had fought Li Hao during the Master’s Martial Discourse. They weren’t enemies. They had come to test themselves, to see where their flaws lay. And now, this young man—once their opponent—was saving them.

Their eyes filled with complex emotions. They stared at him, then steadied themselves, and returned to battle, reinforcing the others.

Soon, the Western Wall was cleared.

Li Hao turned again—only to notice that the corpse of the Young Demon King of Wan Mountain was gone.

Someone had slipped in and stolen it.

He shook his head. A pity—but he didn’t need the corpse. He only needed the sword.

As the Demon Disaster faded, Li Hao withdrew the Longxiao. He tossed it casually into the air.

The sword flew, landing with the grace of a falling leaf in the Discourse Arena, sliding into Ren Qianqian’s hands.

Ren Qianqian exhaled in relief. She hadn’t been able to sense the outside world—she hadn’t reached the Divine Travel Realm. But now, seeing the sword return, she knew Li Hao was safe.

Li Hao hovered in midair, scanning the sky. The black clouds of Demon Qi had vanished.

Old Feng… how did he fare?

Li Hao felt a pang of worry—but then he smiled. Old Feng’s ultimate technique might not be strong in direct combat, but his escape ability? Even Second Uncle couldn’t match it. The demons couldn’t touch him.

Just then—

A soft, amused laugh echoed behind him.

“Kid, I told you to hold on for just one minute. And you go and kill the Minor Demon King?”

Li Hao turned.

There stood Old Feng—his robe torn, stained with blood, but not his own.

Li Hao relaxed. “The demon? What happened?”

“Fled.” Feng Bo Ping shrugged. “I could’ve chased it—but it’d run beyond the frontier. Not worth it.”

“You’re okay?” Li Hao smiled.

“Fine. You killed the Minor Demon King. That exposed his weakness. I gave him a serious wound. If he hadn’t been hurt, he’d have gone berserk on you.”

Feng Bo Ping chuckled.

Li Hao understood. The battle on his end had been fierce—just like Old Feng’s.

“From the Minor Demon King’s title… he’s likely from the Wanshan Demon King’s faction. So there are two Great Demon Kings in Wan Mountain? Our intel wasn’t accurate.”

Feng Bo Ping nodded. “If they hide well enough, even the keenest eyes can miss them.”

He looked at Li Hao. “Little Squirrel… you need to level up fast. In half a year… trouble’s coming.”

Li Hao froze.

He understood.

News of the Minor Demon King’s death would spread. The Wanshan Demon King would learn.

If it were only one Demon King, Old Feng’s protection would be enough. But now there are two.

When Song Qiumo leaves… the attack will likely come then.

Or worse—it could come sooner.

Either way, the grudge was sealed.

“Half a year…” Li Hao sighed.

If he abandoned the pursuit of the Ultimate Master’s Realm, he could spend six months in deep cultivation and possibly reach Heart Merging with Spirit, even breakthrough to Three Immortalities or Four Foundations Realm.

But if he gave up now… the Heart Deficiency would remain. He’d never regain that path.

…

…

Old Feng vanished again—retreating into hiding.

Li Hao returned to the Discourse Platform to meet Ren Qianqian.

“You’re alright, Young Master?” Ren Qianqian asked, eyes full of concern.

Li Hao’s face was pale. The physical toll was catching up.

He’d endured battle after battle, faced every Master in the realm, slain a Three Immortalities peak Minor Demon King, and annihilated nearly a hundred thousand demons. The cost was immense.

“I’m fine. Rest a while.” He sat down, beginning to cultivate.

Soon, Masters began returning. Seeing Li Hao resting, they gathered—some came to thank him, others to bow in gratitude.

He had saved them, without holding a grudge.

They looked at him with newfound respect. Beyond his celestial talent, his character was truly admirable.

Others had heard of his solo defense of one wall, his massacre of ten thousand demons, his relentless aid across the battlefield.

They stared at him, their expressions complex.

A prodigy? Even in folk tales, no character was written this powerful.

“Master Zhou Haitang stepped forward. “Earlier, my disrespect… I ask your forgiveness. Thank you for your mercy.”

A Master’s apology was the highest honor.

Li Hao frowned slightly. “I don’t bear the Li surname anymore. From now on, I’m Ji Hao.”

The words struck silence.

The disciples froze.

Then realization dawned.

That’s right… the Qingzhou City war. He severed ties with the Li Clan.

They had thought it was just a passing mood. That he’d return once he hit a wall, once he needed protection.

But now… he was no longer a caged bird.

A prodigy? That word no longer fit.

He was a First-Class powerhouse, capable of slaying Great Demon Kings alone.

A Master Invincible.

Two feats—slaying a Minor Demon King, defending a wall—were enough to prove he needed no protection. He could stand alone.

The crowd fell silent.

They didn’t know the full story. But today… they had seen it with their own eyes.

What could have driven the Li Clan to cast out such a genius?

Zhou Haitang hesitated, awkward. He bowed. “If you ever need help, write to Iron Sword Peak, Plum Blossom Gate. I’ll remember this.”

Li Hao nodded. He didn’t know if he’d ever need it—but the future was uncertain.

Others came forward, thanking him. But they avoided the Li surname. Now, they called him Hao Gongzi.

No one dared say Ji. That name was too dangerous—rumors could reach the Divine General’s Residence.

“Hao Gongzi,” Bai Chunhai stepped forward, smiling. “I’ve reconsidered. I’ll give you that painting—free of charge. Want it?”

His hulking disciple stared at Li Hao, trembling. “I… I didn’t recognize your greatness. Forgive me.”

He bowed deeply.

A Master must never be disrespected.

But Li Hao didn’t care. He smiled. “Then I accept. Thank you.”

Bai Chunhai felt a strange joy. He’d never have given that painting to anyone—but this young man was different.

Outside the crowd, Li Wushuang had signaled the end of the battle. Now, she withdrew from the fray.

She’d heard everything.

Her face twisted. Her fingers clenched the sword hilt. She bit her lip.

Her cousin—her own blood—was truly leaving the Li Clan.

Publicly.

It would spread.

If he cut ties completely… would they still be cousins?

A sharp pain tore through her chest.

Soon, Li Hao received the painting. He glanced at it—then handed it to Ren Qianqian.

No one would see it now.

He bowed to the Masters, then turned, leading Ren Qianqian out of the arena.

His mission was complete. He’d even held a secret Dao discourse.

He had to return to the Heavenly Gate Pass.

As he passed the gate, he saw a distant army charging—iron hooves thundering across the land.

A banner with the Xuan character flapped in the wind.

That was Li Wushuang’s distress signal. She’d summoned her Fifth Uncle.

But his camp was far away. He wouldn’t arrive in time.

Li Hao didn’t greet him.

From above, he and Ren Qianqian vanished into the sky, silent and swift.

…

…

Dayue City narrowly escaped destruction!

The Young Demon King of Wan Mountain, leading a demonic army, had been repelled by a mysterious warrior. The appearance of a Four-Heaven Stage Demon King had caused shock—but the tide was turned.

The news spread across the realms.

Detailed military reports flew to Dayu Prefecture, the Imperial Capital.

And another report—carried across mountains and rivers—reached Qingzhou, arriving at the Heavenly Origin God General Mansion.

In the grand hall, Li Tiangang gathered his household, the Ladies of the various halls, and Li Moxiu, to discuss the crisis.

On the table: a massive map of Liangzhou River and Mountain.

The reports were grim.

Gao Qingqing’s face was ashen.

Her husband, Li Xuanli, was stationed in Liang Prefecture. Of the nine Li sons, six had fallen. She feared the seventh would be her husband.

She hadn’t slept since he left. She woke screaming from nightmares—seeing

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end