Chapter 16: Temperament

After the female attendant left, Li Hao didn’t continue playing chess. He stood up and walked toward the courtyard. Li Fu rose as well. When Li Hao didn’t speak to him, he immediately reverted to his usual expressionless military demeanor—silent, motionless, a shadow trailing Li Hao’s every step.

He had questioned the household servants about the earlier assassination attempt, gathered every detail, and still felt a chill of dread. Especially over the past few days, as he’d sat beside this child during their daily games, he realized just how close he now stood to the very spot where the assassin had once been—only one chessboard apart.

At that distance, in a moment of carelessness, a child utterly defenseless—anyone could have struck down Li Hao in an instant.

Yet the attack had been stopped.

Was it because the assassin was incompetent? Or was it due to the terrifying skill of the clan elder who intervened? Or perhaps… this child was simply blessed with extraordinary fortune?

Whatever the reason, Li Fu took it as a warning. From meals to sleep, he remained constantly by Li Hao’s side. Any servant maid who came within three feet of the young master was met with his sharp, hawk-like gaze—scrutinized, questioned, and swiftly dismissed if suspicious.

The servants in the courtyard suffered in silence. Every time they approached the young master with reports, they trembled, eyes downcast, hearts pounding. They were becoming timid—almost shy.

When Li Hao arrived, Bian Ruxue, who had been practicing sword forms, pouted slightly and turned her body away, as if unwilling to be seen.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, Li Hao smiled. He called for a servant to bring a small stool and some sweet pastries and fresh fruit, then sat beside her, casually munching.

“You’re not focusing,” he said lightly, watching her clumsy, scattered sword swings. “If you keep this up, you’ll never beat anyone.”

Bian Ruxue’s eyes suddenly welled with tears. She lowered her sword, head bowed. “If only you could train, Hao Ge… With your mind, you’d master sword art in no time. You’d surpass me—become the greatest.”

In the past year of cultivation training, Bian Ruxue had grown rapidly. As she matured, her mind sharpened. She finally understood why, after Bone Quantification, the elders had looked at Li Hao with such pity. She now knew exactly what he had lost.

Hearing her words, Li Fu’s brow twitched slightly. His impassive eyes, usually devoid of emotion, flickered with a rare flicker of sorrow and regret.

This was not just Li Fu’s sorrow. It was the sorrow of the entire Li family. The sorrow of Xing Wuhou himself.

Li Hao sighed inwardly. He wasn’t even sad—yet this girl was already heartbroken.

“Don’t say that,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Training’s boring. Look at you—sunburnt, wind-battered, freezing in winter, sweating in summer. What a life! Meanwhile, I’m over here in the pavilion, eating chilled melons, playing chess, or snuggling under the quilt in winter, sleeping till noon. That’s the good life!”

Li Fu glanced at him, barely suppressing a smirk. Only this kid could say something like that.

With Xing Wuhou gone and the other ladies too lenient to discipline him, Li Fu had noticed the change—this child’s spirit had grown a little too carefree, too playful.

“You’re not afraid of hardship,” Bian Ruxue shot back, eyes narrowing.

“What do you know?” Li Hao retorted, unimpressed. “Look at me—I’m too lazy to stand. If I can sit, I won’t stand. If I can lie down, I won’t sit. Some hardships aren’t worth it. If we had to eat only bitter things, why bother with sweet ones? You’re still young. Just focus on your sword.”

“That’s nonsense!” Li Fu snapped, unable to bear it anymore. “What kind of talk is that? In the Frontier Regions, every warrior lives in hardship. A true martial cultivator fears nothing more than lack of talent or resources. But you—born into privilege, with nothing to do but complain? You’re wasting your life, and now you’re dragging Snowy down with you?”

Bian Ruxue’s Sword Dao talent was exceptional, Li Fu saw it clearly in her eyes—she would one day become a towering figure in sword cultivation, a protector for Li Hao. He couldn’t allow this reckless boy to destroy her future with his foolish words.

“Uncle Fu,” Bian Ruxue quickly defended Li Hao, “I think Hao Ge is right.”

Li Fu’s eyes snapped wide. This girl listens too much to him! If she fell under his influence, it would be disastrous.

“Don’t encourage his nonsense,” Li Fu growled. “You think I won’t beat you? I’ll knock you down, and even your father will say, ‘Good job, Li Fu!’”

He didn’t dare raise his voice at this orphaned, delicate girl. Instead, he resorted to threats—harsh, stern, but not cruel.

Li Hao chuckled nervously. He knew this man had no patience for his brand of carefree philosophy.

After all, Divine General’s Residence was a military family. The Li clan had always valued frugality and endurance. Though the ladies of each courtyard lived in luxury, admired by all, the family’s wealth and power could easily support even greater extravagance.

Yet Lady He Jianlan, the eldest, still ate vegetarian meals twice a week. She wasn’t a believer—she didn’t follow the Buddha’s path. She did it simply to remind herself and the children: never lose sight of the warrior’s duty, never forget the core values of discipline and humility in the midst of wealth and comfort.

“Yes, yes, Uncle Fu is right,” Li Hao said to Bian Ruxue. “Look—your stubbornness has made him angry. Hurry up and practice!”

Bian Ruxue blinked her big eyes, lips puffed out. It was you who made him angry, Hao Ge… But she didn’t argue. If she could take the blame for him, she’d gladly do it.

Li Fu nearly laughed. This kid is impossible to manage.

“Uncle Fu,” Li Hao said, turning to him, “help me look over Snowy’s sword form. Give her some guidance.”

Li Fu replied coldly, “I’m a swordsman with a blade. I don’t know sword techniques.”

“Blades and swords are similar,” Li Hao smiled. “The principles are the same.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Li Fu snapped. “Each weapon must be mastered to perfection. Even the smallest difference makes a world of difference.” He paused, then sighed. This boy doesn’t understand the martial path. He’d think like this. It’s natural.

Li Hao sighed. He went back to eating fruit, legs stretched out, watching Bian Ruxue train.

“That rotating strike—you’re doing it wrong,” Li Hao said casually, observing mid-motion. “Lower your arm a bit more, and it’ll look better.”

“Don’t interfere,” Li Fu scowled. “An outsider giving advice to an expert? That’s absurd.”

But Bian Ruxue ignored him. She was used to Li Hao’s casual, offhand guidance. Even though he hadn’t entered the martial path, every time she followed his advice, her movements felt smoother—more natural.

She lowered her arm again, executed the rotation. A sudden clarity surged through her—like a door opening in her mind.

Li Fu inhaled sharply. It wasn’t just that she’d obeyed—she was too obedient. But the change in form… it was sharper, more ferocious, exactly as Li Hao had described.

He looked down at the boy, now casually chewing fruit, legs crossed in a careless, unorthodox way. Was it luck? Or did he see it—by instinct?

“Your waist needs to lead,” Li Hao added. “When doing a sweeping slash, power doesn’t come from the arm alone. You must drive it from your core—let the waist whip the arm.”

Bian Ruxue nodded, then tried again—repeating the motion several times. Soon, her sword cut through the air with a fierce, controlled wind.

Li Fu raised his brows. One was luck. Two? That wasn’t chance.

This child… could he actually understand sword art? Was he hiding a Sword Dao talent?

Li Fu disliked Li Hao’s attitude—frivolous, disrespectful—but he had to admit: over the past half year, the boy was astonishingly intelligent. Beyond his years. Mature. Wise.

Could it be… he did have Sword Dao talent? But because he couldn’t cultivate, he couldn’t manifest it?

The thought struck him like a hammer. What a tragedy.

As Li Hao offered his casual, effortless advice, Bian Ruxue’s technique slowly approached perfection.

There was no other way—Li Hao’s understanding of Sword Dao was so complete, so refined, that after just a glance, he could absorb her entire High-Grade Sword Technique into his character panel, then instantly elevate it to Supreme Perfection.

With his flawless, perfection-level insight, he skipped the stage of “perfect.” Even a small grasp of his guidance allowed Bian Ruxue to achieve results nearly indistinguishable from perfection.

Then, Li Hao asked her to re-perform the move she’d lost to earlier.

Bian Ruxue obeyed, stepping forward.

Li Hao watched—already visualizing the exact moment the opponent had defeated her.

But he said nothing. He didn’t want to reveal too much, not with Li Fu present. A hint of talent was acceptable. But too much—too precise—would mark him as a prodigy, and that would attract danger.

“That slash isn’t elegant,” Li Hao said, as if casually. “Change it to a diagonal cut. Raise your elbow slightly.”

“Here, switch from chopping to a straight thrust. Keep your wrist steady—no tremble.”

Bian Ruxue frowned, listening intently. She practiced again and again, slowly aligning her form with his words.

Li Fu watched Li Hao closely. He was certain now—this child possessed a rare, innate Sword Dao talent.

Even if he expressed it in childish terms—“looks good,” “doesn’t look good”—the fact that he could feel the beauty of motion, the rhythm of the blade… that was talent.

In the eyes of a genius, the world isn’t just seen—it’s felt.

Li Fu sighed inwardly. The sorrow grew heavier. What a loss…

The next day, the two headed to the Changchun Courtyard for morning prayers. Then, Bian Ruxue dashed off to the Training Ground with excitement.

After morning drills and lessons, she found the Minor Branch youth from the previous day—smaller than her, but carrying a sword nearly as tall as herself. Her face was serious, determined. She was ready to challenge again.

The youth laughed without restraint. So did the others standing around him.

The Main Line Family kids were too dangerous to provoke. But Bian Ruxue? She wasn’t even a true Main Line heir—just a fiancée, still unwed. And worse—her betrothed was the infamous “Worthless One” of Divine General’s Residence, a name whispered throughout the family.

One day, any of them could surpass him.

So they couldn’t help but mock the one who sat atop a mountain of privilege, soaking in endless resources and affection.

“Didn’t you learn from yesterday?” the youth sneered. “Brother Bai beat you once—still want to play hero for the useless one?”

“Let him come himself. I’ll let Brother Bai beat him with both hands tied!”

“Brother Bai held back yesterday. You’re still not getting it.”

“You’re talented, yes. But Brother Bai has trained here for eight years. If you want revenge, wait half a year. By then, Brother Bai will already be gone.”

Bian Ruxue bit her lip, eyes fixed on the boy. “You dare?”

The challenge ignited the youth’s blood.

Li Dongbai—full name Li Dongbai—was one of the top three talents among the minor branch youths. Seventh-Rank Combat Body. He enjoyed nearly Main Line resources, and had already entered the Circulation Realm.

But the Training Ground’s Duel Rules required the stronger cultivator to suppress their cultivation level to match the weaker’s realm.

Bian Ruxue was currently at the Ten-Step Completion of the Thorough Strength Stage.

“Today,” Li Dongbai said coldly, “you’ll lose—clearly.”

He hadn’t planned to provoke her. He’d just been talking casually with friends, mentioning the “Worthless One,” when she appeared. Though a minor branch youth, he had pride. He wouldn’t apologize. That was why the fight happened yesterday.

“Come on,” Li Dongbai stepped onto the training ground’s platform.

Soon, the crowd gathered. Everyone was eager to watch the clash between two rising geniuses—this girl, the so-called “exceptional talent,” and the rising star of the minor branches.

Outside the arena, the Military Elder smiled faintly, eyes half-closed. He approved of these young sparks clashing.

True blades are forged in fire. Without struggle, how can they grow? Without failure, how can they learn?

We don’t wait till old age and brittle bones to fight. That’s too late.

The two figures clashed—small and large, swift and fierce.

It was the same scene as yesterday. But today, Li Dongbai’s attacks were sharper, more vicious.

This girl will lose again, the Military Elder thought. Talent is strong, but cultivation is too short. She still needs time to be tempered.

Then—suddenly—the two blurred, swords flashing in a final, thunderous clash.

Clang!

A sword flew from the platform, spinning through the air, then pierced into the sand beyond.

The figures froze.

The cheers died.

The Elder’s smile froze on his face.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end