Chapter 147: Fourth Elder of the Li Clan

“Ah-choo!”

In Cangya City Camp, nestled within Heavenly Gate Pass, Liang Prefecture, the snow-laden roof of a wood-fired shed trembled as Feng Bo Ping sneezed mid-task, nearly extinguishing the flames in the hearth. He rubbed his nose, muttering in confusion: “What’s this sudden itch? Did someone just be talking about me?”

Li Hao, nearby, was kneading dough. Once the ball was smooth, he tossed it onto a warm stone slab to ferment. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he summoned Longxiao Sword. With swift, precise strokes, he began chopping the bloodied meat of demon beasts he’d selected, turning it into finely minced filling.

“This fine sword, and you’re using it as a cleaver?” Feng Bo Ping shook his head in dismay.

“Use what you’ve got,” Li Hao grinned. “Waste not, want not.”

With all ingredients prepared, he set to cooking.

Since returning from Dayue City, life had settled back into quiet routine within Heavenly Gate Pass. Beyond the mountains, the lurking demon beasts and the rumors swirling in the world outside were all swallowed by the endless blizzard. Here, there was only the daily rhythm of hunting, fishing, and the simple comfort of three meals a day.

As noon approached, Li Hao sent Little White Fox to fetch Song Qiumo and Li Hongzhuang to prepare for lunch.

“Absolutely delicious!” The praise rang out from everyone present. For them, aside from their own private thoughts, the highlight of each day was the exquisite meals Li Hao prepared. Food and conversation flowed together like a gentle stream.

While they ate, Li Hao asked Song Qiumo to help arrange a trip in the afternoon—to the nearby city to procure supplies for the camp.

Now, beyond their fenced courtyard, Li Hao had been quietly building more homes for others. With his Fifteen-Li Stage Object Manipulation Ability, construction was effortless. He split distant mountains apart, carved out stone, and transported it to build simple, sturdy homes.

“You really plan to turn this place into a full city?”

Before Song Qiumo could respond, Li Hongzhuang spoke up, chewing thoughtfully on a strip of roasted meat, her eyes fixed on Li Hao.

“Not rebuild,” Li Hao smiled. “Just restore what was lost.”

“After all, we’ve nothing better to do. If we’re to defend the pass, we need a city.”

Li Hongzhuang studied him silently, then nodded. “If those demons don’t come again, fine. But what if we build it… only to see it destroyed?”

“Then we’ll rebuild.”

“And if we can’t hold it?”

“Then we rebuild again.”

Silence followed.

Watching the young man’s carefree demeanor, Li Hongzhuang said nothing more. But deep inside, a quiet hope stirred.

If this city could rise again—its walls restored, its defenses strong—then the demons beyond the pass would be driven back. The bloodthirsty beasts that once terrorized the land would be kept at bay, just as they were a century ago.

If the Third Elder and Sixth Elder could see it now… they’d weep.

She lowered her head, tearing at a tough piece of meat with her teeth—only to taste a bitter saltiness.

“Hear you killed the Young Demon King of Wan Mountain,” Song Qiumo said, frowning. “If I leave, what stops the Wan Mountain Demon King from launching a stealth attack while I’m gone?”

Li Hao had shared the tale of Dayue City with them all. Now, Song Qiumo learned he’d slain the son of a Demon King—a minor demon prince of astonishing talent. As a member of the demon clan herself, she understood just how dangerous such a prodigy was.

In human terms, that young demon could have matched Li Hao’s strength, almost on equal footing.

And yet, Li Hao had cut him down.

It was no wonder the Wan Mountain Demon King was furious. The fact that he’d secretly protected the prince, even placing him under the care of another Demon King, showed how deeply he valued him. Even a Four Foundations Realm demon would have struggled to survive such an ambush. Yet fate had brought them face to face with Feng Bo Ping and Li Hao—two forces not easily overcome.

“Within three hundred li of here,” Li Hao said calmly, “I’ve laid a hidden network. If any demon approaches, I’ll sense it. I’ll have time to retreat.”

Six-Stage Fishing’s Hidden Line, combined with its innate stealth attribute, was nearly undetectable—even to a Four Foundations Realm cultivator.

And thanks to the famous painting River Snow Painting, gifted to him by Master Bai Chunhai, Li Hao had embedded it into his Yi Dao. This provided a hidden environment that harmonized with object manipulation, making his Vital Energy attacks nearly invisible.

The combination was perfect for his fishing line—so subtle that even a close-range reconnaissance by a Four Foundations Realm expert would struggle to detect it.

But maintaining such a long line required constant flow of Vital Energy. Only with his Great Meridian system expanded to 98 channels, and Yin-Yang Dual Meridians, could he sustain it. Even now, it was barely manageable.

“I’ll go instead,” Li Hongzhuang said, turning to Li Hao. “Senior Master Song is right. Though you have protection, you killed a Demon Prince. I’ve heard the Wan Mountain Demon King adored that son like a treasure. If he hasn’t attacked yet, he’s likely waiting for Senior Master Song to leave.”

Song Qiumo’s eyes flickered. She glanced at Li Hao, then whispered, “I originally planned to stay only half a year. But now that you’re involved in this… I’ll stay for three.”

Li Hao froze, his gaze sharp. A wry smile tugged at his lips. “And what about Tancheng Palace?”

“Three years?” Song Qiumo said, calm and light. “I’ve already overseen nearly a millennium. What’s a little longer?”

But Li Hao knew better. Song Qiumo was bound to Qingzhou, the Demon King’s domain—she couldn’t leave for long. A half-year was her maximum. Three years? That was impossible.

“Let’s see,” Li Hao replied. “Maybe they won’t wait that long.”

He felt the urgency in his own heart. His strength needed to grow—fast.

Still, he had another option. He could abandon the camp, retreat.

But breaking the three-year promise—especially under non-life-or-death circumstances—was something he refused to do.

Song Qiumo nodded. “If the Wan Mountain Demon King comes… we’ll likely face a Three-Headed Demon King.”

She’d mentioned this before. Li Hao and Li Hongzhuang exchanged solemn glances. Beyond Wan Mountain’s territory, the Dragon Lord who had fought Song Qiumo before might also intervene.

This tranquil pass, so peaceful on the surface, was a powder keg—waiting to erupt in fire and destruction.

Li Hao simply nodded. No more words were needed.

For the next few days, life continued as normal within the courtyard. Carefree on the surface, but all three remained alert, nerves taut, awaiting the inevitable assault.

Yet the Wan Mountain Demon King did not strike.

Perhaps he was wary. Maybe he saw Li Hao still moving freely within the pass and suspected hidden protection. Or perhaps he was waiting—patiently—for the right moment. A weakness. A chance.

On this day, two letters arrived at the courtyard—both from the Divine General’s Residence in Qingzhou.

One bore Li Tiangang’s personal seal. Li Hao glanced at the handwriting, then crushed the envelope between his fingers and tossed it into the fire.

The other had no signature. He opened it. It was from Second Uncle.

The letter spoke of longing, of concern. And then, of the Wan Mountain Demon King.

Li Moxiu warned him: the demon king, grief-stricken over his son’s death, might lash out in madness. Li Hao should prepare for an assault by three or four Demon Kings.

More importantly, he advised a retreat. If things turned dire, Old Feng should take Li Hao and flee beyond the border—to a hidden place known only as the Me River.

A Youdu Rank zone. A super-dangerous territory, so fierce that only a Four Foundations Realm cultivator could possibly escape. Its reach was vast, nearly impossible to contain—so the land had been cordoned off and declared a Forbidden Zone.

But Li Moxiu wasn’t suggesting Li Hao use the Me River as a trap.

No. The reason the Me River was guarded was not for defense—but for preservation.

Inside the river’s depths, Li Moxiu’s younger brother resided.

The Fourth Elder of the Li Clan—Li Xiaoran.

In Li Moxiu’s generation, there had been six sons. Three had died. The remaining three: Li Qingzheng, who oversaw the Ancestral Hall; Li Moxiu himself, who presided over the Listening to Rain Pavilion; and Li Xiaoran, the Fourth Elder.

Li Xiaoran dwelled within the Me River—of Youdu Rank.

Once, the river’s path had stretched across the land of Liang Prefecture. But because the Me River could not be fully completed or subdued, even the Great Yu Divine Dynasty had been forced to admit defeat—renouncing the territory.

Yet Li Xiaoran did not guard the river for its power.

He guarded it for a soul.

A heroic soul, drowned in its depths.

Li Hao’s own grandfather—Li Tianzong.

Li Hao had once heard Second Uncle mention that the Fourth Elder rarely stayed at the Divine General’s Residence. He spent his days in some remote Me River, endlessly challenging and breaking through its barriers—trying to complete the river, to reclaim his elder brother’s soul.

Now, it turned out the Me River was right beyond the border of Liang Prefecture.

Li Hao paused, then carefully folded the letter back into place.

The days passed. The Wan Mountain Demon King remained silent.

But then, another imperial decree arrived—this time from the Imperial Capital, delivered by the ever-constant Chu Jiuyue.

“Baron Rank again,” Chu Jiuyue said, stepping into the courtyard. “We meet once more.”

He glanced at the familiar faces—the warmth of the household, the simple life, the peaceful countryside vibe. It was different from last time.

Li Hao welcomed him with a smile, accepted the imperial edict, and learned he’d been granted a noble title—promoted from Third-Class Marquis to First-Class Marquis.

The decree also bestowed gold, treasure artifacts, and servants.

Li Hao hadn’t even checked the fief he’d been granted last time. It was likely still being managed by servants in his absence.

He wasn’t particularly interested in titles or wealth. But considering he’d be leaving Heavenly Gate Pass in three years… having his own fief to return to? That wasn’t a bad thing.

After accepting the edict, Li Hao invited Chu Jiuyue to stay for dinner. This time, the eunuch didn’t refuse.

When they finished eating, Chu Jiuyue, sleeves rolled up, sat casually on the edge of the stove—no dignity, no restraint.

Once full, he mounted his horse and rode off. But as he left, he slipped a talisman into Li Hao’s hand.

“His Majesty’s true gift,” he whispered. “A Holy Heart Talisman. It can save your life in peril.”

Li Hao was stunned.

He’d heard of this artifact from Second Uncle and the Fifth Elder.

It was a rare item—reserved for Four-Heaven Stage Masters. Even among the most powerful, it was scarce.

In the cultivation world, items were ranked.

Weapons and treasures had their tiers:

- Zhou Tian, Soul Inheritance-grade artifacts.

- Spiritual objects for the Divine Travel Realm to Heavenly Human Master Stage.

- Divine weapons and armor for the Three Immortal and Four Foundations Realm.

Li Hao’s Longxiao Sword belonged to the Divine Weapon tier—among the strongest, even if not the highest rank in terms of purity.

There were weapons forged so rarely, so powerful, that few had seen them—and those who had, were long dead.

But this sword was still among the top-tier Divine Weapons.

Above that? The Holy Heart Celestial Treasures.

Extremely rare. Even most Four Foundations Realm cultivators didn’t possess one. Only a handful of Four-Heaven Stage Masters could claim such a treasure.

And this talisman? Even rarer.

It was a consumable item.

For a Four Foundations Realm cultivator, it was nearly impossible to obtain.

The one Li Hao held wasn’t a weapon. It was a life-saving talisman.

If it were an offensive type, it could even wound or threaten a Four Foundations Realm expert.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end