Chapter 19: Thin Fortune

Li Hao took the sword, his mind racing.

He no longer cared about concealing himself—what mattered now was weighing the pros and cons.

If he unleashed his sword technique, displaying his talent, he’d undoubtedly stun everyone present.

Even without revealing his physical cultivation level—just wielding the blade with an ordinary ChildBody—he might not reach the peak of the Tide Sword Art. But if he merely infused it with a hint of Supreme Perfection’s essence, the sharp eyes of this Sword Saint elder would surely sense his potential on the Sword Dao.

Having a Sword Saint as a master meant no one would dare covet him.

But the cost? To become his disciple meant leaving for the Southern Sword Pavilion—his sacred cultivation ground.

Though it was a hallowed place, its depth of cultivation and resources were likely inferior to the Divine General’s Residence, let alone the Pavilion of Listening to Rain.

And Li Hao needed to level up through the Go Art and other disciplines.

Given this stern, unsmiling elder’s rigid demeanor, he’d probably be harsh beyond measure—certainly not tolerant of any “unfocused” pursuits.

Or… could he negotiate? Ask the Sword Saint to stay behind and teach him at the Divine General’s Residence?

But the Residence wouldn’t welcome an outsider of such stature—comparable to a generation-defining figure in the Li Clan—lingering for long. And the elder likely wouldn’t agree anyway.

“Forget it. He doesn’t need to perform.”

Jian Wudao’s voice cut through the silence, laced with mild displeasure.

Li Hao snapped back to attention, eyes flicking toward him.

He Jianlan reacted instantly, stammering, “Sword Saint Elder, this… why not give him a chance to show himself?”

“He has no sword in his eyes. He doesn’t love the blade. So young, yet his heart is scattered—clearly not suited for sword cultivation.”

Jian Wudao’s expression remained cold and distant. Had this not been the Divine General’s Residence, he’d have already turned and left without a word.

“Sword Saint Elder, the child is just nervous. Please, give him a chance to prove himself…” Li Fu hurriedly interjected. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—missing it would be catastrophic.

But before he could finish, Jian Wudao cast him a glance.

That icy, blade-like stare sent a chill down Li Fu’s throat—a sensation like his life was being sliced open. His words died in his mouth.

“Sword Saint Elder,” He Jianlan said softly, her brows furrowed, “Master Hao has grown up within the manor. He’s never seen the world. And since he can’t train in martial arts, he’s never even touched a sword. It’s natural he wouldn’t be drawn to it.”

Jian Wudao spared her a glance—more lenient than toward Li Fu, after all, she was the current Elder Lady of the Divine General’s Residence, the one who wielded authority over the ancestral domain. He gave a slow, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“Lady, I understand your concern. But you don’t wield a sword. You don’t comprehend the Sword Dao. If he trained under me to reach even a modest level, or even become a master in the mortal world, I might consider it acceptable.”

“But to reach the pinnacle—let alone the lowest threshold of my Sword Pavilion? He’s far, far behind.”

“On the Sword Dao, I judge only two things: innate talent, and true feeling for the blade.”

“Talent alone, but no connection to the sword? He’ll never rise above mediocrity.”

“But a child who loves the sword, even with average insight—once he discovers the Sword Heart, he’ll step into the realm of the elite.”

Rarely had he spoken so much. Now that he had, he laid it bare.

His gaze shifted to Bian Ruxue. “That little girl—when she came forward, holding the sword, I saw it in her eyes. The sword. The love. Among a thousand weapons, she’d pick the blade without hesitation.”

“Even if her talent were merely average, with time and practice, she’d refine her Sword Heart and achieve greatness. And her talent? It’s exceptional.”

Then he turned to Li Hao. “But this child—his eyes are empty. Not a trace of sword. Even now, holding it, he shows no emotion. Talent means nothing when the heart is absent.”

“He is not suited for the Sword Dao.”

The verdict was final.

He Jianlan’s mouth snapped shut.

Silence blanketed the courtyard.

She opened her lips, then closed them again. When she met his resolute gaze, she knew arguing was useless. Only a Clan Elder could override him—something that would shame the Li Clan beyond repair.

She looked down at Li Hao, her expression complex, a quiet sigh escaping her.

She knew well enough—this child was wild, unruly. In the yard, he’d often play Go with servants, lost in trivial pastimes. But in this age of peace, such things were mere amusements.

Yet her husband and wife were absent. She couldn’t discipline him too harshly. A few words, ignored. A secret game with servants—she was powerless.

Was this truly fate?

As He Jianlan stood silent, Jian Wudao turned away, having said all he needed. If the Li Clan insisted on forcing this child into his lineage, he wouldn’t hold back—but he wouldn’t waste his breath either.

His gaze shifted to the little girl beside him. The love in her eyes was impossible to hide. Even his cold mask softened slightly. He smiled faintly.

“Little one, what’s your name?”

“Bian Ruxue.”

She answered honestly.

Then, turning to Li Hao, she said to the elder, “Can you let Hao-ge practice? He’s really smart—smarter than me!”

Jian Wudao chuckled. “Smart? What good is intelligence? Even the court’s most learned scholars are clever. But I’ve already seen the chaos in his eyes—mind too restless, too cluttered. At such a young age, that’s a sign of an impure heart. How can he build a solid foundation in sword cultivation? He’ll only waste time, scatter his focus.”

That was why some children who show early brilliance later fade into obscurity—while quiet, unassuming kids, overlooked by all, end up becoming true masters.

Jian Wudao disliked the phrase “late bloomer.” He saw it as the ignorance of ordinary people, unable to see through the protective veil of a true genius.

Focus. Devotion. That was the mark of a true genius.

Some children seemed bright—knowing a little of everything, chiming in during adult conversations to make them laugh. But in cultivation, that kind of “cleverness” was the worst flaw.

Steady. Grounded. A spark of natural talent—that was the perfect foundation.

“Xue’er,” he said gently, “come with me. Let’s go cultivate on the mountain.”

“Will you take Hao-ge too?” Bian Ruxue looked up.

“No. Just you.”

“Then I won’t go.”

She stepped back instantly, as if fearing he’d forcibly take her. She clung to Li Hao’s arm, pulling herself close. “I want to stay with Hao-ge. I won’t go anywhere.”

Jian Wudao’s expression flickered. His brows tightened.

But she was still a child. He didn’t grow angry—only turned to He Jianlan.

“Elder Lady, I’m taking this child. When she matures, I’ll bring her back. Or perhaps, in just a few years, you’ll hear her name echo across the land.”

He spoke with absolute confidence. For if he announced it now, the entire realm would know the name Bian Ruxue within days.

The new apprentice of the Unparalleled Sword Saint—just that title alone would make her famous across a province.

He Jianlan nodded. There was no reason to refuse.

Li Hao, meanwhile, had already regained his composure. He let a faint, wry smile touch his lips.

Good. She made the choice for me. No need to agonize.

“Hao-ge,” Bian Ruxue whispered, gripping his arm tightly, eyes red with tears, “I’m not leaving.”

Li Hao didn’t want to let her go either. But he understood—this was her chance.

Staying in the Divine General’s Residence meant only cultivation, and little beyond that—just his shadow.

But under the Sword Saint? The lineage alone was immense. She’d see the world beyond, experience realms far greater than this estate.

Part of him wanted to keep her—this little shadow at his side made him feel safe, happy.

But for her sake, he chose to let go. He whispered softly, “Xue’er, be good. Go with this elder. When you’ve grown strong, come back and I’ll take you to eat the best food.”

“I won’t go! I don’t want to cultivate! I hate swords!” She burst into tears.

Jian Wudao’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t realized how deep her attachment ran.

Of course—she was his childhood playmate, raised together.

If all else fails, he thought, I could take the boy too. Such talent as hers… even a worthless companion is worth fighting for.

“Be a big girl now,” Li Hao said, gently wiping her nose with his sleeve. “No more crying.” His heart ached.

The adults stood in silence, watching a child comfort another.

Many exchanged complex glances—jealousy, envy.

Children were children. They didn’t understand.

To be accepted into the Sword Pavilion? That was a destiny beyond compare.

If their own child had such a chance, they’d toss them out the door and teach them the taste of Mother’s Foot Discipline.

Finally, Li Hao managed to calm her.

Bian Ruxue, eyes swollen, whispered, “Promise me, Hao-ge. You’ll wait right here. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” Li Hao said, brushing her forehead with a smile.

Jian Wudao’s expression eased. Even his gaze toward Li Hao softened.

He could have forced her to come—she was still a child. Time would heal her sorrow in half a year at the Pavilion.

But it was better this way.

A child of such talent couldn’t afford delay.

“Xue’er’s gentle by nature,” Li Hao said seriously, looking up at the elder. “Please protect her. Don’t let anyone bully her.”

Jian Wudao raised an eyebrow at the casual “little fellow”—but he let it pass, for the child’s sake. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after her. Under my protection, no one in this world will harm her.”

“Good,” Li Hao said, meeting his eyes. Then, to Bian Ruxue: “If anyone picks on you at the Sword Pavilion, write it down in your little notebook. When I come back, I’ll make them pay.”

The others dismissed it as childish sentiment—nothing more than a child’s vow. No one took it seriously.

Just before leaving, Jian Wudao paused. “The Sword Pavilion has a Body Refining Secret Manual. I’ll send it over. If you place it in the Pavilion of Listening to Rain, he might reach the sixth level. Let him try it.”

He Jianlan beamed with joy, immediately bowing in gratitude. Then, hesitantly, she added, “Master Hao… truly, he cannot become your disciple?”

Jian Wudao didn’t answer.

He walked away, leaving only one final whisper behind:

This child is lucky in life… but thin in fortune.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end